Sulu/Chekov Mirrorverse Fic
Here's this mirrorverse fic I was grumbling about. I think the version where Sulu gets split into two different people (one is mean! one is sappy! lol) is better, and maybe I'll finish that one today, too.
Title: Reflection
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7,800
Summary: Mirror!Sulu ends up on the U.S.S. Enterprise and tries to blend in, which means being the recipient of U.S.S. Enterprise!Chekov's clueless affection.
Notes: I wanted to write a fic where the Mirror people aren't evil BDSM torturers, just robotic and joyless, and confused by their counterparts' tenderness. It ... kind of turned into the 'everyone is a Vulcan!' fic. >__<
Sulu returns from a successful mission with minimal injuries and accompanies the Captain to sick bay, where Dr. McCoy bandages his arm and gives him an antibacterial hypospray before sending him to the bridge. Sulu was offered an optional five hours of post-mission rest, but he feels energetic enough to take his regular shift, and returning to his chair after being away from the ship always gives him a pleasant, steady feeling. Chekov is already seated in the navigator's chair, and they acknowledge each other with a nod as Sulu takes his place.
"The mission went well?" Chekov asks, his eyes still on his data screen.
"Of course," Sulu says. "I was injured in a skirmish, but it wasn't serious."
Chekov makes no response, and Sulu feels a bit foolish for trying to continue the conversation. He begins to examine the course Chekov has set for their next warp, looking for mistakes, but there are none. Behind him, the Captain is already arguing with the hot-headed Vulcan. The crew of the R.S.S. Enterprise puts up with Spock's irrational outbursts because of his value as a Commander, but it can be very difficult to relate to him at times. He's much less popular than Uhura, the mute computer engineer, who is often commended for being the most efficient communicator on board.
After his shift, Sulu eats dinner in his usual place in the mess, sitting between Uhura and the Captain, a place of honor he's earned by adhering to the Royal Federation's standards of diligence and restraint. Blissfully, there is no need for conversation this evening, as their upcoming mission to Zadek-9 is going smoothly in the initial planning stages. Chekov sits across from Sulu, and Sulu tries to keep his mind clear of any hopes for what may occur after dinner, wanting to be prepared should the Captain require his attention in response to an unexpected comment.
When dinner is through, the group moves to the communal showers to clean themselves, and then on to their individual quarters. Alone in his room, Sulu takes a moment to write about the mission he just completed in his log, then waters the neat row of plant specimens that he keeps on a narrow shelf that is mounted over his desk. He takes an odd pleasure in looking at these plants, one that he sometimes wonders if he should be wary of, in case it stems from a kind of fundamental weakness. The plants are not the only thing Sulu has a tendency to look at longer than necessary, wasting valuable time. The chime on his door rings, and Sulu puts his watering can down on the desk, feeling as if he's been caught.
"Yes?" Sulu calls.
"It's Ensign Chekov, sir."
Sulu pauses for a moment, modulating his reaction. "You may come in."
Chekov enters, wearing his uniform, though he's off duty. Sulu is wearing a black t-shirt and black sweatpants, and he feels under-dressed, even though he's in his own room. Chekov clasps his hands behind his back and stares at Sulu, waiting, as if Sulu will give him orders, being the superior here. Sulu wonders if Chekov is thinking about Sulu's plants, judging them as a frivolous hobby that reflects poorly on Sulu.
"You were away for five days," Chekov says.
"I know that."
"I haven't engaged in recreational physical stimulation with anyone else in that time."
"Neither have I."
"Well, of course you haven't, you were working."
Sulu shrugs. Perhaps he said something obvious, communicating inefficiently. He just didn't know how else to respond to that statement, and if Chekov wants something, he certainly could have asked for it already.
Instead of asking, Chekov takes off his shirt. Sulu's body responds immediately to the sight of Chekov's skin. Crew members are encouraged to engage in physical stress relief at appropriate times, but it is generally recommended that they couple with people outside of their immediate departments to avoid complications. It's probably Sulu's fault that he and Chekov have been meeting like this, going against policy. He was the one who initially suggested that they participate in each other's stress relief practices. He is a bit dangerously proud of the fact that Chekov continues to come back for more, and it might be damaging to their work relationship, indeed, if Chekov one day decides to discontinue these visits.
They both undress completely and move toward the bed. Sulu's cock doesn't need much additional stimulation beyond the sight of Chekov's naked body, but he lets Chekov move down the bed to take it into his mouth anyway, dropping back onto his pillow as he feels the stress begin to drain out of him. His shoulder is still sore, throbbing under the bandage, and he wonders if he should see McCoy about another antibacterial treatment.
"Chekov," Sulu says, choking a little on the name, because Chekov's lips are still sliding around his cock, soft and wet. Chekov lifts his head and regards Sulu blandly.
"Yes?"
"Do you think my earlier treatment with Dr. McCoy was sufficient? One antibacterial hypospray and some topical ointment?"
"I don't have enough information to answer that question," Chekov says. He seems a bit irritated, and Sulu again feels guilty for saying unnecessary things; of course Chekov is not sufficiently informed to offer Sulu advice about his injury.
Chekov flops onto his back, and when his cheeks begin to turn pink, Sulu knows what he should do next. He's proud of himself, again, dangerously, for knowing Chekov well enough to understand what he needs. He retrieves the bottle of lubricant that he keeps in a discreet box beside the bed and slicks his fingers with it, kneeling over Chekov. Sulu can feel Chekov tremble as Sulu lowers his fingers to begin stretching him, and his trembling is a simultaneously pleasant and alarming sensation.
"Ready?" Sulu asks, looking up at Chekov, who nods. Sulu lets out his breath and concentrates on his task, trying not to allow his enjoyment of this activity diminish its effectiveness. It makes little sense that he should enjoy it so much, as he's not the one being stimulated, but perhaps he's only relishing the anticipation of soon having his cock in the tight heat that his fingers are pushing into.
"Ahh," Chekov says, and Sulu waits for more, then lets the warm feeling he gets whenever Chekov makes uncontrolled noises during sex concentrate into a sharper heat in the pit of his stomach. He hasn't coupled with anyone else since his days at the Academy, and sometimes he wonders if he's the only person on board who is skilled enough to make his partner emit unintentional noises like this. It's prideful and ridiculous and he often has to internally scold himself for this sort of thinking.
"I'm ready for you now," Chekov says. He's panting and flushed, and Sulu is ready, too, already trying to rein himself in so that he won't cut their stress relief session short. He pushes Chekov's legs apart in the customary manner and coats his cock with lubricant, using more than necessary in what he hopes will be taken as a gesture of protectiveness. Chekov doesn't seem to notice, impatiently reaching for Sulu, his little pink hole flexing with the need to be filled. Sulu almost lets out an exhalation of appreciation at the sight, but he swallows it down and manages to remain perfectly silent as he pushes into the familiar warmth of Chekov's body.
"Oh," Chekov says, his eyelids drooping as Sulu fills him. Sulu watches Chekov's face, his heart pounding. Never once has Chekov been able to hold back a little oh of surprise when Sulu slides into him, as if he forgets, every time, how big Sulu is. It makes Sulu feel better and stronger than accomplishing any difficult or harrowing mission ever has, and he's always guilty about this, but later, not when he's inside Chekov, watching his face slacken with pleasure.
"Are you comfortable?" he asks when he's settled deep into Chekov, whose crazed breathing has begun to slow down a bit. Chekov nods languidly, and Sulu has to catch a kind of whine before it can escape past his lips. It hurts, in a strange way that is also enjoyable, to see Chekov when he's looking up at Sulu like this.
Sulu thrusts in once without waiting for further permission, and Chekov hisses in approval, grabbing Sulu's hips. He's pushy, even though he volunteered to be the one who lies on his back while Sulu is always the one who kneels between his legs. Sulu tries to keep his thrusts very measured so that he can last as long as possible, but Chekov always pulls at him, trying to make him give in to his urge to fuck hard and fast and let it all be over too quickly. There was a time when Sulu would give in and let Chekov pull him over the edge of his restraint, but afterward he would always feel as if he'd failed a test, so now he fights Chekov's attempts to get him to unleash the full force of his coiling need for release, even when Chekov growls in frustration.
To placate him, Sulu takes hold of Chekov's cock, his hand still slippery with lubricant. Chekov moans a little, weakly, in a way that makes Sulu want to pump him full of come, but he holds back and jerks Chekov's cock in measured strokes, watching Chekov's fists ball up in the sheets.
"Harder, please!" Chekov cries, and Sulu grins. It makes no sense that enjoys watching Chekov fall apart, because Chekov is his friend and Sulu wants to see him do well and reach his potential. But this is different; this belongs to him.
He gives Chekov what he wants and watches him come, Chekov's low groan biting its way down Sulu's spine. While Chekov's cock is still spurting, Sulu begins to drive into him, relinquishing control. Chekov gasps and moans, and Sulu pulls out before he finishes, watching his come mix with Chekov's on Chekov's trembling stomach, because for some reason he likes this, not only the sight of it and the filthy idea of it, but the opportunity to clean it carefully away while Chekov lies on his back, recovering.
"You don't have to do that," Chekov says as Sulu reaches for a towel that he keeps near the bed in the same discreet manner that he keeps the lubricant handy.
"I don't mind," Sulu says, cleaning Chekov thoroughly. He's exhausted, his legs shaking and his back sore, but he likes the idea that Chekov is more weakened by this than he is, not because he wants to think that Chekov is weak, but for some other, inexplicable reason. It's the same reason he enjoys caring for those plants, though he can't define that, either.
When Chekov is clean, he gets up with a sigh and begins to dress. Sulu cleans himself as well and hurries to put his t-shirt and sweatpants back on, though he will only take them off again when Chekov leaves. He knows it's impractical to sleep naked, but he likes to sometimes, especially when he still has the scent of Chekov on his skin.
"Goodnight," Chekov says, already walking to the door. He's always very tired after sex and eager to get back to his room for sleep.
"Goodnight," Sulu says, the familiar ache that fills him whenever Chekov leaves beginning to flood his chest, making his heart feel sore and heavy. It's a fear, he supposes, of enjoying this too much, or needing it more than others do.
"You should go see Dr. McCoy if your shoulder is still hurting you," Chekov says when his hand is on the door panel. He presses the button and walks out into the hall without waiting for Sulu to answer.
Sulu doesn't follow Chekov's suggestion. He gets into bed and lies there feeling more stressed than he did before their session. It is often said that prolonged coupling with the same person can cause more stress than relief. Sulu considers selecting someone else to couple with, but he doesn't like the idea. He rolls onto his side and spends some of the time that he should be using for rest feeling angry with Chekov for reasons he can't determine.
*
The next day, everything goes wrong. The warp drive malfunctions unexpectedly, and the ship is catapulted into an asteroid field. Sulu concentrates fiercely on piloting the ship past constant obstacles, but one of them still strikes the hull, shaking the entire bridge. Sulu looks over at Chekov, sorry for letting him down more than anyone, but instead of Chekov he sees a blinding light, and he feels himself falling to the floor.
"Hikaru?" someone is saying frantically when Sulu comes to. He wonders if he's dead, or dying. Who would use his first name but the disembodied spirit of his mother?
"Jesus, what happened?" someone else shouts, and it sounds like the Captain, but the shouter is so agitated that it must be Spock. Sulu blinks awake, glad to see that he's only on the floor on the bridge and not dead or even dying. After taking a quick appraisal of his surroundings he hops to his feet, ready to continue piloting the ship through the asteroid field, but when he looks up at the view screen, the asteroids have all disappeared.
"Hikaru!" Chekov says, pulling at Sulu's shoulders. Sulu turns with a frown, confused. Chekov is staring up at him with very a frightened look on his face, and Sulu's shame at allowing the ship to collide with an asteroid is increased tenfold.
"What happened, Lieutenant?" the Captain asks.
"I'm sorry, sir," Sulu says, stepping away from Chekov, who is hovering much too close. "It won't happen again. Did we -- are we clear of the asteroid field? Were we able to warp away?"
"Huh?" Kirk says. "What are you talking about?"
"He must have hit his head when he fell," Chekov says. He puts a hand on Sulu's back, and Sulu goes tense, waiting for him to remove it. "He's confused."
"Well, dammit, go and see McCoy, then," Kirk says, sighing. Sulu nods; he feels fine and can't imagine why the Captain is ordering him to sick bay over something as minor as a fall from his chair, but he has no right to argue with Kirk's decision. Chekov's hand slides off of Sulu's back slowly as he walks away, and Sulu turns back to look at him, confused. Chekov is still standing and looking terrified as he watches Sulu walk to the lifts, and Sulu almost crashes into Uhura as he looks back over his shoulder, wondering why Chekov hasn't gotten back to work.
"Watch it, Hikaru!" Uhura says irritably as she pushes around him, and Hikaru opens his mouth to apologize before he remembers: Uhura can't speak. Something is very wrong.
When he arrives at sick bay, he waits for quite some time before the doctor is available to see him. All sorts of crew members are being treated, some for things as minor as a stomach flu. Sulu's posture is very straight as he sits on a bio bed waiting for Dr. McCoy, his heart beginning to race. Before he woke up on the floor of the bridge, he'd seen a bright light. Did something happen to everyone else while he was out?
"So what's wrong with you?" McCoy asks when he walks over to Sulu.
"I don't know," Sulu says, confused. Usually the doctor simply reads a chart prepared by the nurse, administers a hypospray and makes an abrupt hand gesture indicating that his patient should get back to work.
"Well, that's helpful," McCoy says with a scoff. "Shouldn't you be on the bridge? Did Jim send you back here?"
At first Sulu has no idea who Dr. McCoy is talking about, and then he remembers: the Captain's first name is James. Jim is a nickname for James, but why would McCoy refer to their Captain by either name?
"The Captain sent me," Sulu says. "I -- blacked out for a moment. It's nothing, I'm sure."
"You're sure," McCoy says. He gives Sulu an incredulous look. Sulu frowns; if the doctor is going to doubt what Sulu tells him, why is he discussing Sulu's condition with him at all? He gives Sulu a cursory examination, shining a light into his eyes and checking his heart rate. He shrugs and tells Sulu that everything is normal, and Sulu is glad to return to the bridge until he remembers Uhura speaking to him before he left. No one had even turned with surprise.
He stops in his tracks in the hallway outside of sick bay. He's heard stories about alternate universes, skewed realities that mirror each other and rips that can open between them. Exchanges. His breath starts to come faster as he walks back toward the bridge. Over the lifts he reads the words U.S.S. Enterprise. He stares for a long time, letting it sink in.
There was an exchange person on board the R.S.S. Enterprise once, five years before Sulu graduated from the Royal Academy. The stories were very bad: the person was cruel and calculating and tried to stage a mutiny before he was exposed and imprisoned. Sulu begins to sweat at the thought of being imprisoned as an impostor. He thinks of the R.S.S. Enterprise, wondering if an impostor who looks like him has replaced him there. It makes him feel ill: what if this person who is called Hikaru on the bridge is an inferior pilot who ruins his reputation? What if he's cruel to Chekov and makes him never want to come to Sulu's room again?
Sulu realizes that these are not his biggest concerns; there's no guarantee that he'll ever get back to that reality, anyway. The thought makes him heartsick, but he steels himself and walks onto the bridge of this U.S.S. Enterprise. Until he figures out what to do, he'll have to try to blend in, lest he be locked up and distrusted by the others.
"Back already?" Kirk says as Sulu walks to his seat. Sulu nods curtly, not sure if he's being tested. But this is a different world -- maybe the Captain actually wants him to speak?
"What did McCoy tell you?" Chekov asks quietly, shifting his chair closer to Sulu's. Sulu stiffens and looks over his shoulder, but the Captain doesn't seem to have noticed Chekov's forward manner. Kirk is slouching in his chair and speaking to Spock, who is standing at the Captain's side, his usually expressive face completely blank.
"Hikaru!" Chekov whispers, and Sulu turns back to him.
"I'm sorry," Sulu says. "McCoy told me that everything was fine. As I suspected."
"Then why did you just fall out of your chair?" Chekov asks, frowning.
"I can't explain that. Shouldn't we get back to work?"
Chekov's frown becomes a scowl, then a wounded expression as he turns back to his data screen. He keeps sneaking looks at Sulu throughout their shift, and when a pop-up message appears on Sulu's screen he jumps a little, still expecting asteroids to come hurtling out of nowhere. He leans in close to read the communication:
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): hikaru are you ok
Sulu glances over at Chekov as discreetly as possible, and finds Chekov staring at him with a forlorn expression on his face. Another message pops up, and Sulu reads it, quietly horrified. Chekov is secretly communicating with him during their shift, when they should be monitoring their data screens.
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): are you mad at me
Not wanting Chekov to think that anything is out of the ordinary, Sulu composes and sends a response:
Sulu_Hikaru(Lieutenant): I am not mad at you.
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): you look weird
Sulu_Hikaru(Lieutenant): How so?
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): like you are angry
Sulu_Hikaru(Lieutenant): I am sorry. I do not mean to look angry.
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): hikaru!!!
Sulu_Hikaru(Lieutenant): Yes?
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): are you sure mccoy said nothing was wrong
Sulu_Hikaru(Lieutenant): Why would I lie to you?
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): hikaru you are giving me the creeps
Sulu_Hikaru(Lieutenant): I'm very sorry. Can we talk after our shift?
Sulu is scrambling, completely taken off guard by this method of conversation and by Chekov's ability to see through him so quickly. If he's discovered, he'll never have any hope of getting back to his Chekov and his orderly ship, where crew members would be sent to the brig for daring to waste time and resources with such inane exchanges while on duty.
He manages to make it through the rest of his shift and walks to his room afterward, having no interest in finding out what the mess is like on this strange ship. Thankfully, his room is the same place that it is on the R.S.S. Enterprise, and even his entry code is the same. It makes him shudder, the similarities of this place to his home: everything looks the same but feels completely different. Inside his room, almost every corner is crowded with potted plants, and for a moment Sulu allows himself the thrill of examining each one. Some of them are similar to species he's studied, but most are completely alien to him, and he begins to feel as if he should be taking notes.
The door chimes, and Sulu's heart races as he tries to decide if he should answer it or not. The Sulu who actually belongs here probably would, so he takes a deep breath and walks forward to open it.
Chekov is standing in the hall, and Sulu's body flushes in automatic relief at the sight of him, even though he knows this is a different Chekov, one who does not belong to him. Not that the other Chekov does, either. This Chekov pushes past Sulu and into the room without waiting for an invitation, takes his shoes off and lets them fall where they may, and flops onto Sulu's bed with a belabored sigh, as if he just finished a shift loading boulders onto a research craft and not sitting behind a desk and staring at a data screen.
"Why didn't you come to dinner?" Chekov asks.
"I wasn't hungry."
"I had to sit with Spock and Uhura." Chekov yawns, which pulls at Sulu a bit; he's never seen his Chekov yawn, and this one looks just like him, only his eyes are a bit different, less guarded. And maybe less intelligent. Chekov holds out his arms as if he's reaching for some invisible thing in the center of the room, and Sulu realizes that Chekov is reaching for him, beckoning him to come close. He walks forward cautiously, wondering if he should start taking off his clothes. Indeed, as he comes closer, Chekov begins unbuckling his own belt, and he slides his pants down before kicking them off. Sulu takes his pants off as well, and then his shirt, following Chekov's lead.
"Come here, weirdo," Chekov says. He's smiling, and Sulu smiles back, struggling with it. He feels frightened and alone, and he longs for the comfort of his own Pavel Chekov, who would never call him a weirdo. He climbs into bed next to Chekov, hoping that this Chekov smells like his, and when he does it's such a tremendous relief that his arms wrap easily around Chekov, who moans as he folds one leg over Sulu's side.
"Oh!" Chekov says, touching Sulu's shoulder, which is unbandaged now, but still raw and sore.
"What happened?" Chekov asks, kissing the edge of Sulu's wound. "Did this happen when you fell?"
"Yes," Sulu says. "It doesn't hurt very much."
"McCoy should have bandaged it for you! I bet you didn't even tell him about it. Tsk! You never take proper care of yourself until you have a fever and you're falling out of your chair. And now you haven't even eaten dinner! Stay still, I'll get something for your arm."
Chekov climbs over Sulu, who lies on his back, overwhelmed. Chekov said so many things at once and Sulu has already lost track, not sure if he's even expected to respond to any of them. Chekov returns to the bed with some ointment and a bandage, and Sulu watches him tend to the wound and wrap it securely.
"Thank you," Sulu says, touched by his attention. This Chekov clearly cares very much for his Sulu, and suddenly Sulu feels guilty for not being him.
"What else can I do to make you feel better, hmm?" Chekov asks, grinning and sidling up to Sulu's side to nuzzle at his jaw like a child.
"Sex?" Sulu says. Based on Chekov's verbal and physical cues, this is what he's playfully suggesting. Chekov bursts into laughter, and for a moment Sulu is afraid he's guessed wrong. He laughs nervously, ready to play it off as a joke, but Chekov's hand is snaking down to cup the soft bulge between Sulu's legs. Sulu gasps in surprise and turns his face against Chekov's involuntarily. Chekov's eyes are huge, so close to his, and though it makes Sulu nervous to press his face against Chekov's like this, he doesn't move away.
"What's wrong, Hikaru?" Chekov asks. He kisses Sulu's cheek, and Sulu's breath catches. He always wants his Chekov so much, all the time, even when it's a distraction and a liability. This one feels just like him.
"Hmm? What's the matter?" Chekov asks, scrambling onto Sulu and straddling him like he's a hover bike. He kisses Sulu's neck and face, soft and breathy, and finally finds his lips. Sulu lies perfectly still, allowing Chekov to lick his lips apart as his heart hammers and his dick gets hard. They've never tried this before -- he and his Chekov. They've used their tongues to make each other feel good, but the most efficient place to apply them is between their legs, of course, and yet this is so good, too, brushing their tongues together in timid little strokes. Chekov captures Sulu's tongue and sucks on the tip, drawing a long, irrepressible moan from Sulu.
Chekov moves down to kiss Sulu's neck, scraping Sulu's skin with his teeth and then licking over the marks he leaves, which just feels odd at first and then very good. Sulu can feel Chekov's erection poking his stomach and scraping against his own as Chekov scrambles around on top of him, and he reaches between them to grasp it clumsily. Chekov laughs and licks into the hollow of Sulu's throat. Sulu thinks he could last a long time this way; they could prolong their stress relief session for hours, just kissing and touching each other like this, like they've got no schedule to keep.
"Your heart's pounding," Chekov says, his ear pressed to Sulu's chest as Sulu rubs his fingers over Chekov's back.
"Because of you," Sulu says, and Chekov laughs a little; everything Sulu does seems to make this Chekov laugh. He seems as if he doesn't really need the stress relief session at all, as if he's only doing this for fun.
"I was so worried about you," Chekov says, resting his chin on Sulu's breastbone. "The way you just fell over, it was like someone had hit you."
"I'm fine," Sulu says, again feeling guilty. What will happen to this Chekov's Sulu on the R.S.S. Enterprise? Will he be smart enough to lay low, or will he expose himself as an impostor and be imprisoned? Will Sulu's Chekov take pity on him?
"Hikaru?" Chekov says, leaning up to kiss his chin. He looks hurt, not missing the fact that Sulu's mind is drifting, and Sulu feels dizzy, trying to consider the feelings of three different people in parallel universes. He flips Chekov over onto his back and smiles at his little yelp of surprise.
"Everything's okay," he says to this sensitive Chekov, who his own Chekov would scoff at. Sulu feels a bit protective of this Chekov at the thought, and kisses his face until he's laughing again.
Though Sulu thought it would be easy to prolong things with this Chekov, that's not the way it happens at all. Once they're undressed Chekov turns onto his knees and holds the plastic headboard of Sulu's bed, presenting himself in a way that makes Sulu moan with anticipation. He opens Chekov the way he always does, using a bottle of lubricant that sits boldly on the bedside table, but Chekov doesn't only let loose an ahhh of appreciation: he curses and bucks backward onto Sulu's fingers, squeezing the headboard and groaning as if he's in agony, though when Sulu stops Chekov curses him and asks him to keep going.
"Fuck me now, Hikaru," Chekov finally pants, and Sulu flushes but doesn't hesitate. He lines himself up with Chekov's hole, which has been worked open well by Chekov's thrashing enthusiasm, dripping lubricant that Sulu almost wants to lick up as it slides down Chekov's pale thighs. When he slides in they both groan, embarrassingly loud and unrestrained, and Sulu realizes that he can't be quiet: this Chekov will want him to make a lot of noise, or he'll worry that Sulu's mind is drifting. Sulu thinks of his Chekov's irritable look when they were in bed together and Sulu asked Chekov what he should do about his arm.
"Fuck me, fuck me," this Chekov is moaning, already bouncing a little on Sulu's cock. Sulu puts his hand on the small of Chekov's back. He can't see this Chekov's eyes, and otherwise he's exactly the same as the Chekov he knows so well. He licks his lips, deciding to say all of the things he's always bitten back when he's inside his Chekov.
"I want to do this all the time," he moans as he begins to thrust, his face burning as if someone on the R.S.S. Enterprise will hear him.
"Yes, yes," Chekov says, his head dropping down between his arms.
"And never with anyone else," Sulu says. His voice breaks on never, which frightens him, but now that he's started he can't stop. "Only with you, only with you -- Pavel." It feels incredibly dirty to use Chekov's given name, and he shudders, his cock pulsing inside the heat of Chekov's body.
"Ungh, Hikaru," Chekov says, grunting the words out. He leans up from the headboard and Sulu holds him against his chest, fucking him hard while Chekov flops back, reaching up to cup Sulu's face in his palm.
"Hikaru, Hikaru," he whispers, like he feels dirty saying Sulu's name, too. He kisses Sulu's jaw, and Sulu holds him tight.
"Pavel," Sulu says. "You're -- everything -- you're --"
He doesn't have the words for the other unsaid things, so he just takes this Chekov's dick in his hand and pumps it until they're both watching Chekov come all over Sulu's sheets. The sight makes Sulu groan and follow quickly, still buried deep in Chekov when he finishes, still holding him like he'll never let him go. When he opens his eyes, watching Chekov disengage and crumble down onto the pillow, he thinks for a moment that he's passed some kind of cosmic test and will be returned to his own life now. He knows that he hasn't been when Chekov rolls onto his back and reaches for him.
Sulu drops into his arms, feeling awkward at first, but then quickly at ease as Chekov kisses him with all the energy of a man who has just finished a marathon. Chekov is moaning under his breath, and Sulu cracks his eyes, afraid that Chekov is in pain, but he's got a mindless smile stretched across his face. Sulu sighs and kisses Chekov's curls, unable to shake a feeling of sadness. He never realized how much he wanted to kiss the curls, how he had anticipated the damp springiness of them against his lips.
Chekov starts mumbling things in Russian, petting Sulu as they melt completely together, the stress release lingering and Sulu's every muscle relaxing against Chekov's weight.
"I love you, Hikaru, more than anything, don't ever leave me," Chekov says, still in Russian, and Hikaru smiles.
"I won't," he says, though he does hope to leave this Chekov and return to his. Chekov goes tense underneath him, as if he's heard an explosion from the other end of the ship. He pushes at Sulu's shoulders and sits up to frown at him.
"What did you just say?" he asks.
"I said I won't, I won't leave you," Sulu says, smiling shakily. Chekov is looking at him as if he's suddenly a stranger.
"What the fuck?" Chekov says, again in Russian. "Since when do you speak Russian?" he asks, back to English.
"You taught me," Sulu says. His heart is pounding; how stupid of him. Of course, in this world where there is plenty of time for lying about and kissing and secret conversations during work, Chekov wouldn't have painstakingly instructed him in Russian over many recreational hours.
"What's going on?" Chekov asks, scrambling out of bed. He lands on the floor, hard, and winces. Sulu offers him a hand, but Chekov crab-walks out of his reach.
"What's the matter?" Sulu asks. His voice is shaking. He's never been a very good liar.
"Just who the hell are you?" Chekov asks. Tears are pooling in his eyes, and Sulu feels terrible. He never should have tried to pretend; now this poor Chekov feels violated.
"Please," Sulu says, holding up a hand. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Hurt me?" Chekov shouts as he dresses, his arms shaking. "You just fucked me, I thought -- who -- what are you?"
"I'm Hikaru Sulu. Just -- a different version. Please, I just want to go home, I thought my best chance was trying to pretend --"
"Home? Where is home?" Chekov picks up his communicator.
"Please!" Sulu shouts. "Don't call the Captain! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pretended to be your Sulu, but please believe me, where I come from there is a Chekov, too, and I -- I need to get back to him -- I love him," he says desperately as Chekov brings the communicator to his mouth.
Chekov stares at Sulu, his chest heaving. His eyes are narrowed, but he's not speaking into the communicator.
"If we can send you back will I get my Hikaru back?" Chekov asks. Tears roll down his cheeks with the question, and Sulu wants badly to cross the room and comfort him, but he knows that Chekov will only feel threatened if he tries.
"Yes," Sulu says. "I think."
Chekov cries out then, pressing his hand over his face. He shakes his head.
"I knew something was wrong," he says, sniffling. "Oh, God! What have you done with him?"
"I haven't done anything -- I didn't want to switch any more than he did."
"Is the place you come from terrible? Will they hurt him?"
"It's not terrible at all. It's very much like this ship, only -- we are more -- efficient."
Chekov curses and throws his communicator onto his desk, wiping his face.
"You felt just like him," he says, whimpering.
"I know," Sulu says, beginning to get dressed. "You felt like -- my Pavel."
It's strangely satisfying to say those words: my Pavel. Sulu shudders with nervous happiness at the thought of seeing him again; he has to, somehow.
"Will you help me get back to him?" Sulu asks. "Please. I'm worried about him."
"Worried about him?" Chekov scoffs. "What about my Hikaru? Alone with some crazy mirror world people? God! It's like a nightmare!"
They spend the rest of the evening devising a plan to return to their loved ones. Both of them have a very good memory for coordinates, and they exchange the coordinates they remember seeing before the switch. It's worth a try, beaming Sulu to the exact quadrants where their respective ships were when the exchange took place.
"I'm exhausted," Chekov says after hours of calculations and speculation. He rubs his eyes, and Sulu is pierced again by the desire to see his Chekov, and to see him like this, sleepy and frustrated. It's so strange, to want these things from someone he respects so much, but he can't help it.
"You can stay here if you like," Sulu says, and Chekov gives him a reproachful look.
"No," he says. "I will go back to my own room."
As he heads for the door, Sulu feels heavy with something akin to guilt but maybe more like loneliness, and he recognizes the feeling as the same thing that courses through him when his Chekov leaves him alone.
"I'm sorry," Sulu says again, when Chekov opens the door. "I'm sorry - that I am not him."
Chekov lingers in the doorway, half-turned back to Sulu. He looks sad, and angry, too, glaring down at the floor.
"You should tell him," Sulu says. "What you told me in Russian, thinking I would not know."
"Have you told the man who you love how you feel?" Chekov asks, whirling on him. Sulu shakes his head, and Chekov scoffs.
"See," Chekov says, walking through the door. "It is not so easy."
*
Beaming into what is essentially an empty quadrant of space is terrifying ,but when Sulu opens his eyes he's still in the transport chamber, though he's no longer holding the communicator he was using to talk with Chekov as they enacted their plan. He stumbles off the platform and hurries out into the hall, looking for the words R.S.S. Enterprise. If they miscalculated, he could have ended up in the universe that the treasonous exchange person who was eventually executed by the Royal Federation came from. Sulu looks up above the lifts at the end of the hall with trepidation, and laughs loudly with relief when he sees the R.S.S. Enterprise insignia above them.
He checks the clock on one of the data screens in the hall and sees that it's late here, too, well past alpha shift. He goes to Chekov's room and rings the chime, but gets no response, even when he begins knocking on the door desperately. Heading to his room instead, he hopes that he won't find an impostor Sulu there, holding Chekov in his arms. What if Chekov was charmed by that strange Sulu's behavior? Sulu had certainly been taken in by the other Chekov's sweetness and kisses. His relief at being home fades as he pushes into his room, and when he looks at his bed and finds someone already sleeping there, his heart seems to crack in half in his chest. The exchange didn't work -- the other Sulu is still stuck here, and his Chekov will be heartbroken.
But it's not another Sulu who is lying naked in Sulu's bed: it's Chekov. Stunned, Sulu wonders if the Chekov from the other universe was somehow transported, too. He goes to kneel beside the bed, gently stroking Chekov's shoulder to wake him. Chekov rolls over to frown at him, and Sulu lets out his breath in a rush of relief. This is his Chekov, without a doubt; he doesn't know how, but he's sure of it.
"Sulu?" Chekov says. His voice is weak and scratchy from sleep, and Sulu's heart nearly bursts at the sound. He strokes Chekov's face, and Chekov smiles faintly.
"What are you doing?" Chekov asks. "Come back to bed."
"Yes, I will," Sulu says. He stands and undresses himself with shaking hands. He should tell Chekov what happened, but what if Chekov hates him for not being the Sulu who inspired him to stay and sleep in his bed?
"Did you go somewhere?" Chekov asks as Sulu pulls off his pants and underwear.
"Yes," Sulu says. "But I'm back now."
"I can see that," Chekov says, scoffing. Sulu grins; he's missed his Chekov's tendency to scoff at him when he says obvious things. He climbs into bed beside Chekov and pulls him into his arms, afraid that Chekov will sense that something has changed and jerk away. But he settles against Sulu's chest with a sigh, wrapping an arm around Sulu's back.
"Why have you never slept in my bed before now?" Sulu asks. He strokes Chekov's curls, and then kisses them, breathing in the smell of his Chekov, who does belong to him.
"You never asked me to," Chekov says. "Also, it's against regulation."
"I'm willing to break regulation for you."
"Well, you don't have to." Chekov looks up at him, his eyes softer than Sulu has ever seen them. "I wouldn't want you to be punished."
"I won't be," Sulu says. He kisses Chekov's nose, then does it again when Chekov smiles. "We'll be careful." He moves from Chekov's nose down to his lips, and kissing his Chekov is so much better than kissing that other one -- his Chekov is clumsy and shy, his breath shaking as Sulu kisses him.
"Hikaru," Chekov whispers, and Sulu squeezes him closer, shivering.
"I love it when you say my name," Sulu says. Chekov nods, and Sulu puts his lips against his ear to whisper Pavel until Chekov moans, rubbing his erection against Sulu's as if nothing has ever aroused him more than the sound of his first name.
"I had a dream that you were different," Sulu says. "You were you, but you weren't."
"Is that why you're acting so strangely?" Chekov asks, smiling up at him as if he approves of this strange behavior.
"Yes," Sulu says. "You know, I never thanked you for taking the time to teach me Russian."
"You're welcome, Hikaru."
"I should teach you this in return," Sulu says, kissing him again, hard and hungry, and Chekov lets out a little moan of distress that melts into a sigh.
"Are you trying to pass this off as a language?" Chekov asks. He licks Sulu's bottom lip and grins.
"I love your tongue," Sulu says breathlessly, and Chekov laughs. Sulu can't remember the last time he saw Chekov laugh. He doesn't look like that other Chekov when he does, though their faces are the same. He laughs a little darkly, in spite of himself, which makes Sulu feel that much better for being able to draw it out of him.
"I love making you happy," Sulu says, his heart still beating fast. "I worry about how much I love it. It's addictive." He wonders if all of this will feel like a dream when he wakes tomorrow: Chekov lingering in his arms, lots of irresponsible talk, the instructional kissing.
"I'm always happy when I'm with you," Chekov says. His voice is hushed, as if he's afraid he'll be heard by someone out in the hall. "Sometimes I think about the way things would be if you weren't here. I know it's pointless, but -- I think about it."
"I won't leave you," Sulu says, in Russian. Chekov kisses him, much more sloppily than that other Chekov did, as if he really is trying to use kissing as a form of communication. He kisses Sulu like he's got so much more to tell him.
"We'll regret acting this way," Chekov says as Sulu's hand slides down between his legs. "It's reckless -- there will be consequences."
"Not if we look after each other," Sulu says. He takes hold of Chekov's weeping cock and drags his thumb through the slit. Chekov cries out, bucking in Sulu's grip.
"Please, Hikaru," Chekov whispers, his eyes pinched shut as his hips twitch in pained little jerks. "I want you inside me."
"Again?" Sulu asks, his heart pounding with the question.
"Yes," Chekov says, nodding wildly as Sulu strokes him. "Again and again and, ahhhh, again - until I can hardly walk - oh - I, I want to think of you when my ass is sore tomorrow morning, when we're sitting together on the bridge."
"Pavel!" Sulu grins and kneels up over him. "What's gotten into you?"
"It's more like what's gotten out of me," Chekov says, looking up at him sheepishly. "It has been - inside of me - this wish - for some time."
It's a bit disconcerting, being inside Chekov when he's already open and wet from being fucked by Sulu's mirror self, but the strangeness of it, the dirtiness, makes Sulu wild with lust all the same. Still, he keeps quiet, and so does Chekov, because they can't be caught overindulging in each other, and also because they can't stop kissing each other long enough to make a sound. Even when Sulu comes, his mouth is still open over Chekov's, and Chekov licks across Sulu's trembling lips with the tip of his tongue until he's coming, too, with a pinched-up little noise that closes around Sulu's heart and claims it forever.
When they're through, they don't clean or dress or move apart. Sulu closes Chekov tightly into his arms, his heart pounding as he waits for Chekov to make an excuse to leave. Instead, Chekov yawns and settles back against him.
"How did you get the idea to try this?" Chekov asks.
"Try what?"
"This! Sleeping together, holding me, kissing my mouth. It's very good stress relief, quite advanced. You must have - gotten the idea from someone you have been with recently."
"No, no," Sulu says. Somehow it doesn't feel like a lie. "I always wanted to try this. After that disaster in the asteroid field today, well - I needed additional stress relief. I needed this."
Chekov moans happily, wiggling back against Sulu as if he can somehow get even closer.
"I needed this, too," he says. Sulu kisses Chekov's shoulders, licks the back of his neck, and feels like he's just successfully piloted the ship through ten thousand asteroid fields when Chekov laughs.
As Sulu falls asleep, he hopes that the Sulu and Chekov from the mirror world have been reunited, wishing he could know for sure. He dreams during the night that they have been, that they are in a bed just like this one, noses together on the pillow and talking late into the night.
"You've got to be kidding," that Chekov says to that Sulu. "Hikaru, you can tell me, I'll forgive you for sleeping with another version of me."
"Pavel, I'm telling you the truth! I really didn't know!"
"You traveled to another universe and had sex with mirrorverse me and didn't even realize it?"
"I just thought you were in a bad mood!"
They dissolve into delirious laughter, and Chekov kisses Sulu's forehead, chiding him in Russian. As Sulu falls deeper into sleep, losing the trail of his dream, he feels as if he knows it for sure: in all the countless versions of the universe, tonight, everything is as it should be.
//
the end.
Title: Reflection
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7,800
Summary: Mirror!Sulu ends up on the U.S.S. Enterprise and tries to blend in, which means being the recipient of U.S.S. Enterprise!Chekov's clueless affection.
Notes: I wanted to write a fic where the Mirror people aren't evil BDSM torturers, just robotic and joyless, and confused by their counterparts' tenderness. It ... kind of turned into the 'everyone is a Vulcan!' fic. >__<
Sulu returns from a successful mission with minimal injuries and accompanies the Captain to sick bay, where Dr. McCoy bandages his arm and gives him an antibacterial hypospray before sending him to the bridge. Sulu was offered an optional five hours of post-mission rest, but he feels energetic enough to take his regular shift, and returning to his chair after being away from the ship always gives him a pleasant, steady feeling. Chekov is already seated in the navigator's chair, and they acknowledge each other with a nod as Sulu takes his place.
"The mission went well?" Chekov asks, his eyes still on his data screen.
"Of course," Sulu says. "I was injured in a skirmish, but it wasn't serious."
Chekov makes no response, and Sulu feels a bit foolish for trying to continue the conversation. He begins to examine the course Chekov has set for their next warp, looking for mistakes, but there are none. Behind him, the Captain is already arguing with the hot-headed Vulcan. The crew of the R.S.S. Enterprise puts up with Spock's irrational outbursts because of his value as a Commander, but it can be very difficult to relate to him at times. He's much less popular than Uhura, the mute computer engineer, who is often commended for being the most efficient communicator on board.
After his shift, Sulu eats dinner in his usual place in the mess, sitting between Uhura and the Captain, a place of honor he's earned by adhering to the Royal Federation's standards of diligence and restraint. Blissfully, there is no need for conversation this evening, as their upcoming mission to Zadek-9 is going smoothly in the initial planning stages. Chekov sits across from Sulu, and Sulu tries to keep his mind clear of any hopes for what may occur after dinner, wanting to be prepared should the Captain require his attention in response to an unexpected comment.
When dinner is through, the group moves to the communal showers to clean themselves, and then on to their individual quarters. Alone in his room, Sulu takes a moment to write about the mission he just completed in his log, then waters the neat row of plant specimens that he keeps on a narrow shelf that is mounted over his desk. He takes an odd pleasure in looking at these plants, one that he sometimes wonders if he should be wary of, in case it stems from a kind of fundamental weakness. The plants are not the only thing Sulu has a tendency to look at longer than necessary, wasting valuable time. The chime on his door rings, and Sulu puts his watering can down on the desk, feeling as if he's been caught.
"Yes?" Sulu calls.
"It's Ensign Chekov, sir."
Sulu pauses for a moment, modulating his reaction. "You may come in."
Chekov enters, wearing his uniform, though he's off duty. Sulu is wearing a black t-shirt and black sweatpants, and he feels under-dressed, even though he's in his own room. Chekov clasps his hands behind his back and stares at Sulu, waiting, as if Sulu will give him orders, being the superior here. Sulu wonders if Chekov is thinking about Sulu's plants, judging them as a frivolous hobby that reflects poorly on Sulu.
"You were away for five days," Chekov says.
"I know that."
"I haven't engaged in recreational physical stimulation with anyone else in that time."
"Neither have I."
"Well, of course you haven't, you were working."
Sulu shrugs. Perhaps he said something obvious, communicating inefficiently. He just didn't know how else to respond to that statement, and if Chekov wants something, he certainly could have asked for it already.
Instead of asking, Chekov takes off his shirt. Sulu's body responds immediately to the sight of Chekov's skin. Crew members are encouraged to engage in physical stress relief at appropriate times, but it is generally recommended that they couple with people outside of their immediate departments to avoid complications. It's probably Sulu's fault that he and Chekov have been meeting like this, going against policy. He was the one who initially suggested that they participate in each other's stress relief practices. He is a bit dangerously proud of the fact that Chekov continues to come back for more, and it might be damaging to their work relationship, indeed, if Chekov one day decides to discontinue these visits.
They both undress completely and move toward the bed. Sulu's cock doesn't need much additional stimulation beyond the sight of Chekov's naked body, but he lets Chekov move down the bed to take it into his mouth anyway, dropping back onto his pillow as he feels the stress begin to drain out of him. His shoulder is still sore, throbbing under the bandage, and he wonders if he should see McCoy about another antibacterial treatment.
"Chekov," Sulu says, choking a little on the name, because Chekov's lips are still sliding around his cock, soft and wet. Chekov lifts his head and regards Sulu blandly.
"Yes?"
"Do you think my earlier treatment with Dr. McCoy was sufficient? One antibacterial hypospray and some topical ointment?"
"I don't have enough information to answer that question," Chekov says. He seems a bit irritated, and Sulu again feels guilty for saying unnecessary things; of course Chekov is not sufficiently informed to offer Sulu advice about his injury.
Chekov flops onto his back, and when his cheeks begin to turn pink, Sulu knows what he should do next. He's proud of himself, again, dangerously, for knowing Chekov well enough to understand what he needs. He retrieves the bottle of lubricant that he keeps in a discreet box beside the bed and slicks his fingers with it, kneeling over Chekov. Sulu can feel Chekov tremble as Sulu lowers his fingers to begin stretching him, and his trembling is a simultaneously pleasant and alarming sensation.
"Ready?" Sulu asks, looking up at Chekov, who nods. Sulu lets out his breath and concentrates on his task, trying not to allow his enjoyment of this activity diminish its effectiveness. It makes little sense that he should enjoy it so much, as he's not the one being stimulated, but perhaps he's only relishing the anticipation of soon having his cock in the tight heat that his fingers are pushing into.
"Ahh," Chekov says, and Sulu waits for more, then lets the warm feeling he gets whenever Chekov makes uncontrolled noises during sex concentrate into a sharper heat in the pit of his stomach. He hasn't coupled with anyone else since his days at the Academy, and sometimes he wonders if he's the only person on board who is skilled enough to make his partner emit unintentional noises like this. It's prideful and ridiculous and he often has to internally scold himself for this sort of thinking.
"I'm ready for you now," Chekov says. He's panting and flushed, and Sulu is ready, too, already trying to rein himself in so that he won't cut their stress relief session short. He pushes Chekov's legs apart in the customary manner and coats his cock with lubricant, using more than necessary in what he hopes will be taken as a gesture of protectiveness. Chekov doesn't seem to notice, impatiently reaching for Sulu, his little pink hole flexing with the need to be filled. Sulu almost lets out an exhalation of appreciation at the sight, but he swallows it down and manages to remain perfectly silent as he pushes into the familiar warmth of Chekov's body.
"Oh," Chekov says, his eyelids drooping as Sulu fills him. Sulu watches Chekov's face, his heart pounding. Never once has Chekov been able to hold back a little oh of surprise when Sulu slides into him, as if he forgets, every time, how big Sulu is. It makes Sulu feel better and stronger than accomplishing any difficult or harrowing mission ever has, and he's always guilty about this, but later, not when he's inside Chekov, watching his face slacken with pleasure.
"Are you comfortable?" he asks when he's settled deep into Chekov, whose crazed breathing has begun to slow down a bit. Chekov nods languidly, and Sulu has to catch a kind of whine before it can escape past his lips. It hurts, in a strange way that is also enjoyable, to see Chekov when he's looking up at Sulu like this.
Sulu thrusts in once without waiting for further permission, and Chekov hisses in approval, grabbing Sulu's hips. He's pushy, even though he volunteered to be the one who lies on his back while Sulu is always the one who kneels between his legs. Sulu tries to keep his thrusts very measured so that he can last as long as possible, but Chekov always pulls at him, trying to make him give in to his urge to fuck hard and fast and let it all be over too quickly. There was a time when Sulu would give in and let Chekov pull him over the edge of his restraint, but afterward he would always feel as if he'd failed a test, so now he fights Chekov's attempts to get him to unleash the full force of his coiling need for release, even when Chekov growls in frustration.
To placate him, Sulu takes hold of Chekov's cock, his hand still slippery with lubricant. Chekov moans a little, weakly, in a way that makes Sulu want to pump him full of come, but he holds back and jerks Chekov's cock in measured strokes, watching Chekov's fists ball up in the sheets.
"Harder, please!" Chekov cries, and Sulu grins. It makes no sense that enjoys watching Chekov fall apart, because Chekov is his friend and Sulu wants to see him do well and reach his potential. But this is different; this belongs to him.
He gives Chekov what he wants and watches him come, Chekov's low groan biting its way down Sulu's spine. While Chekov's cock is still spurting, Sulu begins to drive into him, relinquishing control. Chekov gasps and moans, and Sulu pulls out before he finishes, watching his come mix with Chekov's on Chekov's trembling stomach, because for some reason he likes this, not only the sight of it and the filthy idea of it, but the opportunity to clean it carefully away while Chekov lies on his back, recovering.
"You don't have to do that," Chekov says as Sulu reaches for a towel that he keeps near the bed in the same discreet manner that he keeps the lubricant handy.
"I don't mind," Sulu says, cleaning Chekov thoroughly. He's exhausted, his legs shaking and his back sore, but he likes the idea that Chekov is more weakened by this than he is, not because he wants to think that Chekov is weak, but for some other, inexplicable reason. It's the same reason he enjoys caring for those plants, though he can't define that, either.
When Chekov is clean, he gets up with a sigh and begins to dress. Sulu cleans himself as well and hurries to put his t-shirt and sweatpants back on, though he will only take them off again when Chekov leaves. He knows it's impractical to sleep naked, but he likes to sometimes, especially when he still has the scent of Chekov on his skin.
"Goodnight," Chekov says, already walking to the door. He's always very tired after sex and eager to get back to his room for sleep.
"Goodnight," Sulu says, the familiar ache that fills him whenever Chekov leaves beginning to flood his chest, making his heart feel sore and heavy. It's a fear, he supposes, of enjoying this too much, or needing it more than others do.
"You should go see Dr. McCoy if your shoulder is still hurting you," Chekov says when his hand is on the door panel. He presses the button and walks out into the hall without waiting for Sulu to answer.
Sulu doesn't follow Chekov's suggestion. He gets into bed and lies there feeling more stressed than he did before their session. It is often said that prolonged coupling with the same person can cause more stress than relief. Sulu considers selecting someone else to couple with, but he doesn't like the idea. He rolls onto his side and spends some of the time that he should be using for rest feeling angry with Chekov for reasons he can't determine.
*
The next day, everything goes wrong. The warp drive malfunctions unexpectedly, and the ship is catapulted into an asteroid field. Sulu concentrates fiercely on piloting the ship past constant obstacles, but one of them still strikes the hull, shaking the entire bridge. Sulu looks over at Chekov, sorry for letting him down more than anyone, but instead of Chekov he sees a blinding light, and he feels himself falling to the floor.
"Hikaru?" someone is saying frantically when Sulu comes to. He wonders if he's dead, or dying. Who would use his first name but the disembodied spirit of his mother?
"Jesus, what happened?" someone else shouts, and it sounds like the Captain, but the shouter is so agitated that it must be Spock. Sulu blinks awake, glad to see that he's only on the floor on the bridge and not dead or even dying. After taking a quick appraisal of his surroundings he hops to his feet, ready to continue piloting the ship through the asteroid field, but when he looks up at the view screen, the asteroids have all disappeared.
"Hikaru!" Chekov says, pulling at Sulu's shoulders. Sulu turns with a frown, confused. Chekov is staring up at him with very a frightened look on his face, and Sulu's shame at allowing the ship to collide with an asteroid is increased tenfold.
"What happened, Lieutenant?" the Captain asks.
"I'm sorry, sir," Sulu says, stepping away from Chekov, who is hovering much too close. "It won't happen again. Did we -- are we clear of the asteroid field? Were we able to warp away?"
"Huh?" Kirk says. "What are you talking about?"
"He must have hit his head when he fell," Chekov says. He puts a hand on Sulu's back, and Sulu goes tense, waiting for him to remove it. "He's confused."
"Well, dammit, go and see McCoy, then," Kirk says, sighing. Sulu nods; he feels fine and can't imagine why the Captain is ordering him to sick bay over something as minor as a fall from his chair, but he has no right to argue with Kirk's decision. Chekov's hand slides off of Sulu's back slowly as he walks away, and Sulu turns back to look at him, confused. Chekov is still standing and looking terrified as he watches Sulu walk to the lifts, and Sulu almost crashes into Uhura as he looks back over his shoulder, wondering why Chekov hasn't gotten back to work.
"Watch it, Hikaru!" Uhura says irritably as she pushes around him, and Hikaru opens his mouth to apologize before he remembers: Uhura can't speak. Something is very wrong.
When he arrives at sick bay, he waits for quite some time before the doctor is available to see him. All sorts of crew members are being treated, some for things as minor as a stomach flu. Sulu's posture is very straight as he sits on a bio bed waiting for Dr. McCoy, his heart beginning to race. Before he woke up on the floor of the bridge, he'd seen a bright light. Did something happen to everyone else while he was out?
"So what's wrong with you?" McCoy asks when he walks over to Sulu.
"I don't know," Sulu says, confused. Usually the doctor simply reads a chart prepared by the nurse, administers a hypospray and makes an abrupt hand gesture indicating that his patient should get back to work.
"Well, that's helpful," McCoy says with a scoff. "Shouldn't you be on the bridge? Did Jim send you back here?"
At first Sulu has no idea who Dr. McCoy is talking about, and then he remembers: the Captain's first name is James. Jim is a nickname for James, but why would McCoy refer to their Captain by either name?
"The Captain sent me," Sulu says. "I -- blacked out for a moment. It's nothing, I'm sure."
"You're sure," McCoy says. He gives Sulu an incredulous look. Sulu frowns; if the doctor is going to doubt what Sulu tells him, why is he discussing Sulu's condition with him at all? He gives Sulu a cursory examination, shining a light into his eyes and checking his heart rate. He shrugs and tells Sulu that everything is normal, and Sulu is glad to return to the bridge until he remembers Uhura speaking to him before he left. No one had even turned with surprise.
He stops in his tracks in the hallway outside of sick bay. He's heard stories about alternate universes, skewed realities that mirror each other and rips that can open between them. Exchanges. His breath starts to come faster as he walks back toward the bridge. Over the lifts he reads the words U.S.S. Enterprise. He stares for a long time, letting it sink in.
There was an exchange person on board the R.S.S. Enterprise once, five years before Sulu graduated from the Royal Academy. The stories were very bad: the person was cruel and calculating and tried to stage a mutiny before he was exposed and imprisoned. Sulu begins to sweat at the thought of being imprisoned as an impostor. He thinks of the R.S.S. Enterprise, wondering if an impostor who looks like him has replaced him there. It makes him feel ill: what if this person who is called Hikaru on the bridge is an inferior pilot who ruins his reputation? What if he's cruel to Chekov and makes him never want to come to Sulu's room again?
Sulu realizes that these are not his biggest concerns; there's no guarantee that he'll ever get back to that reality, anyway. The thought makes him heartsick, but he steels himself and walks onto the bridge of this U.S.S. Enterprise. Until he figures out what to do, he'll have to try to blend in, lest he be locked up and distrusted by the others.
"Back already?" Kirk says as Sulu walks to his seat. Sulu nods curtly, not sure if he's being tested. But this is a different world -- maybe the Captain actually wants him to speak?
"What did McCoy tell you?" Chekov asks quietly, shifting his chair closer to Sulu's. Sulu stiffens and looks over his shoulder, but the Captain doesn't seem to have noticed Chekov's forward manner. Kirk is slouching in his chair and speaking to Spock, who is standing at the Captain's side, his usually expressive face completely blank.
"Hikaru!" Chekov whispers, and Sulu turns back to him.
"I'm sorry," Sulu says. "McCoy told me that everything was fine. As I suspected."
"Then why did you just fall out of your chair?" Chekov asks, frowning.
"I can't explain that. Shouldn't we get back to work?"
Chekov's frown becomes a scowl, then a wounded expression as he turns back to his data screen. He keeps sneaking looks at Sulu throughout their shift, and when a pop-up message appears on Sulu's screen he jumps a little, still expecting asteroids to come hurtling out of nowhere. He leans in close to read the communication:
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): hikaru are you ok
Sulu glances over at Chekov as discreetly as possible, and finds Chekov staring at him with a forlorn expression on his face. Another message pops up, and Sulu reads it, quietly horrified. Chekov is secretly communicating with him during their shift, when they should be monitoring their data screens.
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): are you mad at me
Not wanting Chekov to think that anything is out of the ordinary, Sulu composes and sends a response:
Sulu_Hikaru(Lieutenant): I am not mad at you.
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): you look weird
Sulu_Hikaru(Lieutenant): How so?
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): like you are angry
Sulu_Hikaru(Lieutenant): I am sorry. I do not mean to look angry.
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): hikaru!!!
Sulu_Hikaru(Lieutenant): Yes?
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): are you sure mccoy said nothing was wrong
Sulu_Hikaru(Lieutenant): Why would I lie to you?
Chekov_Pavel_A(Ensign): hikaru you are giving me the creeps
Sulu_Hikaru(Lieutenant): I'm very sorry. Can we talk after our shift?
Sulu is scrambling, completely taken off guard by this method of conversation and by Chekov's ability to see through him so quickly. If he's discovered, he'll never have any hope of getting back to his Chekov and his orderly ship, where crew members would be sent to the brig for daring to waste time and resources with such inane exchanges while on duty.
He manages to make it through the rest of his shift and walks to his room afterward, having no interest in finding out what the mess is like on this strange ship. Thankfully, his room is the same place that it is on the R.S.S. Enterprise, and even his entry code is the same. It makes him shudder, the similarities of this place to his home: everything looks the same but feels completely different. Inside his room, almost every corner is crowded with potted plants, and for a moment Sulu allows himself the thrill of examining each one. Some of them are similar to species he's studied, but most are completely alien to him, and he begins to feel as if he should be taking notes.
The door chimes, and Sulu's heart races as he tries to decide if he should answer it or not. The Sulu who actually belongs here probably would, so he takes a deep breath and walks forward to open it.
Chekov is standing in the hall, and Sulu's body flushes in automatic relief at the sight of him, even though he knows this is a different Chekov, one who does not belong to him. Not that the other Chekov does, either. This Chekov pushes past Sulu and into the room without waiting for an invitation, takes his shoes off and lets them fall where they may, and flops onto Sulu's bed with a belabored sigh, as if he just finished a shift loading boulders onto a research craft and not sitting behind a desk and staring at a data screen.
"Why didn't you come to dinner?" Chekov asks.
"I wasn't hungry."
"I had to sit with Spock and Uhura." Chekov yawns, which pulls at Sulu a bit; he's never seen his Chekov yawn, and this one looks just like him, only his eyes are a bit different, less guarded. And maybe less intelligent. Chekov holds out his arms as if he's reaching for some invisible thing in the center of the room, and Sulu realizes that Chekov is reaching for him, beckoning him to come close. He walks forward cautiously, wondering if he should start taking off his clothes. Indeed, as he comes closer, Chekov begins unbuckling his own belt, and he slides his pants down before kicking them off. Sulu takes his pants off as well, and then his shirt, following Chekov's lead.
"Come here, weirdo," Chekov says. He's smiling, and Sulu smiles back, struggling with it. He feels frightened and alone, and he longs for the comfort of his own Pavel Chekov, who would never call him a weirdo. He climbs into bed next to Chekov, hoping that this Chekov smells like his, and when he does it's such a tremendous relief that his arms wrap easily around Chekov, who moans as he folds one leg over Sulu's side.
"Oh!" Chekov says, touching Sulu's shoulder, which is unbandaged now, but still raw and sore.
"What happened?" Chekov asks, kissing the edge of Sulu's wound. "Did this happen when you fell?"
"Yes," Sulu says. "It doesn't hurt very much."
"McCoy should have bandaged it for you! I bet you didn't even tell him about it. Tsk! You never take proper care of yourself until you have a fever and you're falling out of your chair. And now you haven't even eaten dinner! Stay still, I'll get something for your arm."
Chekov climbs over Sulu, who lies on his back, overwhelmed. Chekov said so many things at once and Sulu has already lost track, not sure if he's even expected to respond to any of them. Chekov returns to the bed with some ointment and a bandage, and Sulu watches him tend to the wound and wrap it securely.
"Thank you," Sulu says, touched by his attention. This Chekov clearly cares very much for his Sulu, and suddenly Sulu feels guilty for not being him.
"What else can I do to make you feel better, hmm?" Chekov asks, grinning and sidling up to Sulu's side to nuzzle at his jaw like a child.
"Sex?" Sulu says. Based on Chekov's verbal and physical cues, this is what he's playfully suggesting. Chekov bursts into laughter, and for a moment Sulu is afraid he's guessed wrong. He laughs nervously, ready to play it off as a joke, but Chekov's hand is snaking down to cup the soft bulge between Sulu's legs. Sulu gasps in surprise and turns his face against Chekov's involuntarily. Chekov's eyes are huge, so close to his, and though it makes Sulu nervous to press his face against Chekov's like this, he doesn't move away.
"What's wrong, Hikaru?" Chekov asks. He kisses Sulu's cheek, and Sulu's breath catches. He always wants his Chekov so much, all the time, even when it's a distraction and a liability. This one feels just like him.
"Hmm? What's the matter?" Chekov asks, scrambling onto Sulu and straddling him like he's a hover bike. He kisses Sulu's neck and face, soft and breathy, and finally finds his lips. Sulu lies perfectly still, allowing Chekov to lick his lips apart as his heart hammers and his dick gets hard. They've never tried this before -- he and his Chekov. They've used their tongues to make each other feel good, but the most efficient place to apply them is between their legs, of course, and yet this is so good, too, brushing their tongues together in timid little strokes. Chekov captures Sulu's tongue and sucks on the tip, drawing a long, irrepressible moan from Sulu.
Chekov moves down to kiss Sulu's neck, scraping Sulu's skin with his teeth and then licking over the marks he leaves, which just feels odd at first and then very good. Sulu can feel Chekov's erection poking his stomach and scraping against his own as Chekov scrambles around on top of him, and he reaches between them to grasp it clumsily. Chekov laughs and licks into the hollow of Sulu's throat. Sulu thinks he could last a long time this way; they could prolong their stress relief session for hours, just kissing and touching each other like this, like they've got no schedule to keep.
"Your heart's pounding," Chekov says, his ear pressed to Sulu's chest as Sulu rubs his fingers over Chekov's back.
"Because of you," Sulu says, and Chekov laughs a little; everything Sulu does seems to make this Chekov laugh. He seems as if he doesn't really need the stress relief session at all, as if he's only doing this for fun.
"I was so worried about you," Chekov says, resting his chin on Sulu's breastbone. "The way you just fell over, it was like someone had hit you."
"I'm fine," Sulu says, again feeling guilty. What will happen to this Chekov's Sulu on the R.S.S. Enterprise? Will he be smart enough to lay low, or will he expose himself as an impostor and be imprisoned? Will Sulu's Chekov take pity on him?
"Hikaru?" Chekov says, leaning up to kiss his chin. He looks hurt, not missing the fact that Sulu's mind is drifting, and Sulu feels dizzy, trying to consider the feelings of three different people in parallel universes. He flips Chekov over onto his back and smiles at his little yelp of surprise.
"Everything's okay," he says to this sensitive Chekov, who his own Chekov would scoff at. Sulu feels a bit protective of this Chekov at the thought, and kisses his face until he's laughing again.
Though Sulu thought it would be easy to prolong things with this Chekov, that's not the way it happens at all. Once they're undressed Chekov turns onto his knees and holds the plastic headboard of Sulu's bed, presenting himself in a way that makes Sulu moan with anticipation. He opens Chekov the way he always does, using a bottle of lubricant that sits boldly on the bedside table, but Chekov doesn't only let loose an ahhh of appreciation: he curses and bucks backward onto Sulu's fingers, squeezing the headboard and groaning as if he's in agony, though when Sulu stops Chekov curses him and asks him to keep going.
"Fuck me now, Hikaru," Chekov finally pants, and Sulu flushes but doesn't hesitate. He lines himself up with Chekov's hole, which has been worked open well by Chekov's thrashing enthusiasm, dripping lubricant that Sulu almost wants to lick up as it slides down Chekov's pale thighs. When he slides in they both groan, embarrassingly loud and unrestrained, and Sulu realizes that he can't be quiet: this Chekov will want him to make a lot of noise, or he'll worry that Sulu's mind is drifting. Sulu thinks of his Chekov's irritable look when they were in bed together and Sulu asked Chekov what he should do about his arm.
"Fuck me, fuck me," this Chekov is moaning, already bouncing a little on Sulu's cock. Sulu puts his hand on the small of Chekov's back. He can't see this Chekov's eyes, and otherwise he's exactly the same as the Chekov he knows so well. He licks his lips, deciding to say all of the things he's always bitten back when he's inside his Chekov.
"I want to do this all the time," he moans as he begins to thrust, his face burning as if someone on the R.S.S. Enterprise will hear him.
"Yes, yes," Chekov says, his head dropping down between his arms.
"And never with anyone else," Sulu says. His voice breaks on never, which frightens him, but now that he's started he can't stop. "Only with you, only with you -- Pavel." It feels incredibly dirty to use Chekov's given name, and he shudders, his cock pulsing inside the heat of Chekov's body.
"Ungh, Hikaru," Chekov says, grunting the words out. He leans up from the headboard and Sulu holds him against his chest, fucking him hard while Chekov flops back, reaching up to cup Sulu's face in his palm.
"Hikaru, Hikaru," he whispers, like he feels dirty saying Sulu's name, too. He kisses Sulu's jaw, and Sulu holds him tight.
"Pavel," Sulu says. "You're -- everything -- you're --"
He doesn't have the words for the other unsaid things, so he just takes this Chekov's dick in his hand and pumps it until they're both watching Chekov come all over Sulu's sheets. The sight makes Sulu groan and follow quickly, still buried deep in Chekov when he finishes, still holding him like he'll never let him go. When he opens his eyes, watching Chekov disengage and crumble down onto the pillow, he thinks for a moment that he's passed some kind of cosmic test and will be returned to his own life now. He knows that he hasn't been when Chekov rolls onto his back and reaches for him.
Sulu drops into his arms, feeling awkward at first, but then quickly at ease as Chekov kisses him with all the energy of a man who has just finished a marathon. Chekov is moaning under his breath, and Sulu cracks his eyes, afraid that Chekov is in pain, but he's got a mindless smile stretched across his face. Sulu sighs and kisses Chekov's curls, unable to shake a feeling of sadness. He never realized how much he wanted to kiss the curls, how he had anticipated the damp springiness of them against his lips.
Chekov starts mumbling things in Russian, petting Sulu as they melt completely together, the stress release lingering and Sulu's every muscle relaxing against Chekov's weight.
"I love you, Hikaru, more than anything, don't ever leave me," Chekov says, still in Russian, and Hikaru smiles.
"I won't," he says, though he does hope to leave this Chekov and return to his. Chekov goes tense underneath him, as if he's heard an explosion from the other end of the ship. He pushes at Sulu's shoulders and sits up to frown at him.
"What did you just say?" he asks.
"I said I won't, I won't leave you," Sulu says, smiling shakily. Chekov is looking at him as if he's suddenly a stranger.
"What the fuck?" Chekov says, again in Russian. "Since when do you speak Russian?" he asks, back to English.
"You taught me," Sulu says. His heart is pounding; how stupid of him. Of course, in this world where there is plenty of time for lying about and kissing and secret conversations during work, Chekov wouldn't have painstakingly instructed him in Russian over many recreational hours.
"What's going on?" Chekov asks, scrambling out of bed. He lands on the floor, hard, and winces. Sulu offers him a hand, but Chekov crab-walks out of his reach.
"What's the matter?" Sulu asks. His voice is shaking. He's never been a very good liar.
"Just who the hell are you?" Chekov asks. Tears are pooling in his eyes, and Sulu feels terrible. He never should have tried to pretend; now this poor Chekov feels violated.
"Please," Sulu says, holding up a hand. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Hurt me?" Chekov shouts as he dresses, his arms shaking. "You just fucked me, I thought -- who -- what are you?"
"I'm Hikaru Sulu. Just -- a different version. Please, I just want to go home, I thought my best chance was trying to pretend --"
"Home? Where is home?" Chekov picks up his communicator.
"Please!" Sulu shouts. "Don't call the Captain! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pretended to be your Sulu, but please believe me, where I come from there is a Chekov, too, and I -- I need to get back to him -- I love him," he says desperately as Chekov brings the communicator to his mouth.
Chekov stares at Sulu, his chest heaving. His eyes are narrowed, but he's not speaking into the communicator.
"If we can send you back will I get my Hikaru back?" Chekov asks. Tears roll down his cheeks with the question, and Sulu wants badly to cross the room and comfort him, but he knows that Chekov will only feel threatened if he tries.
"Yes," Sulu says. "I think."
Chekov cries out then, pressing his hand over his face. He shakes his head.
"I knew something was wrong," he says, sniffling. "Oh, God! What have you done with him?"
"I haven't done anything -- I didn't want to switch any more than he did."
"Is the place you come from terrible? Will they hurt him?"
"It's not terrible at all. It's very much like this ship, only -- we are more -- efficient."
Chekov curses and throws his communicator onto his desk, wiping his face.
"You felt just like him," he says, whimpering.
"I know," Sulu says, beginning to get dressed. "You felt like -- my Pavel."
It's strangely satisfying to say those words: my Pavel. Sulu shudders with nervous happiness at the thought of seeing him again; he has to, somehow.
"Will you help me get back to him?" Sulu asks. "Please. I'm worried about him."
"Worried about him?" Chekov scoffs. "What about my Hikaru? Alone with some crazy mirror world people? God! It's like a nightmare!"
They spend the rest of the evening devising a plan to return to their loved ones. Both of them have a very good memory for coordinates, and they exchange the coordinates they remember seeing before the switch. It's worth a try, beaming Sulu to the exact quadrants where their respective ships were when the exchange took place.
"I'm exhausted," Chekov says after hours of calculations and speculation. He rubs his eyes, and Sulu is pierced again by the desire to see his Chekov, and to see him like this, sleepy and frustrated. It's so strange, to want these things from someone he respects so much, but he can't help it.
"You can stay here if you like," Sulu says, and Chekov gives him a reproachful look.
"No," he says. "I will go back to my own room."
As he heads for the door, Sulu feels heavy with something akin to guilt but maybe more like loneliness, and he recognizes the feeling as the same thing that courses through him when his Chekov leaves him alone.
"I'm sorry," Sulu says again, when Chekov opens the door. "I'm sorry - that I am not him."
Chekov lingers in the doorway, half-turned back to Sulu. He looks sad, and angry, too, glaring down at the floor.
"You should tell him," Sulu says. "What you told me in Russian, thinking I would not know."
"Have you told the man who you love how you feel?" Chekov asks, whirling on him. Sulu shakes his head, and Chekov scoffs.
"See," Chekov says, walking through the door. "It is not so easy."
*
Beaming into what is essentially an empty quadrant of space is terrifying ,but when Sulu opens his eyes he's still in the transport chamber, though he's no longer holding the communicator he was using to talk with Chekov as they enacted their plan. He stumbles off the platform and hurries out into the hall, looking for the words R.S.S. Enterprise. If they miscalculated, he could have ended up in the universe that the treasonous exchange person who was eventually executed by the Royal Federation came from. Sulu looks up above the lifts at the end of the hall with trepidation, and laughs loudly with relief when he sees the R.S.S. Enterprise insignia above them.
He checks the clock on one of the data screens in the hall and sees that it's late here, too, well past alpha shift. He goes to Chekov's room and rings the chime, but gets no response, even when he begins knocking on the door desperately. Heading to his room instead, he hopes that he won't find an impostor Sulu there, holding Chekov in his arms. What if Chekov was charmed by that strange Sulu's behavior? Sulu had certainly been taken in by the other Chekov's sweetness and kisses. His relief at being home fades as he pushes into his room, and when he looks at his bed and finds someone already sleeping there, his heart seems to crack in half in his chest. The exchange didn't work -- the other Sulu is still stuck here, and his Chekov will be heartbroken.
But it's not another Sulu who is lying naked in Sulu's bed: it's Chekov. Stunned, Sulu wonders if the Chekov from the other universe was somehow transported, too. He goes to kneel beside the bed, gently stroking Chekov's shoulder to wake him. Chekov rolls over to frown at him, and Sulu lets out his breath in a rush of relief. This is his Chekov, without a doubt; he doesn't know how, but he's sure of it.
"Sulu?" Chekov says. His voice is weak and scratchy from sleep, and Sulu's heart nearly bursts at the sound. He strokes Chekov's face, and Chekov smiles faintly.
"What are you doing?" Chekov asks. "Come back to bed."
"Yes, I will," Sulu says. He stands and undresses himself with shaking hands. He should tell Chekov what happened, but what if Chekov hates him for not being the Sulu who inspired him to stay and sleep in his bed?
"Did you go somewhere?" Chekov asks as Sulu pulls off his pants and underwear.
"Yes," Sulu says. "But I'm back now."
"I can see that," Chekov says, scoffing. Sulu grins; he's missed his Chekov's tendency to scoff at him when he says obvious things. He climbs into bed beside Chekov and pulls him into his arms, afraid that Chekov will sense that something has changed and jerk away. But he settles against Sulu's chest with a sigh, wrapping an arm around Sulu's back.
"Why have you never slept in my bed before now?" Sulu asks. He strokes Chekov's curls, and then kisses them, breathing in the smell of his Chekov, who does belong to him.
"You never asked me to," Chekov says. "Also, it's against regulation."
"I'm willing to break regulation for you."
"Well, you don't have to." Chekov looks up at him, his eyes softer than Sulu has ever seen them. "I wouldn't want you to be punished."
"I won't be," Sulu says. He kisses Chekov's nose, then does it again when Chekov smiles. "We'll be careful." He moves from Chekov's nose down to his lips, and kissing his Chekov is so much better than kissing that other one -- his Chekov is clumsy and shy, his breath shaking as Sulu kisses him.
"Hikaru," Chekov whispers, and Sulu squeezes him closer, shivering.
"I love it when you say my name," Sulu says. Chekov nods, and Sulu puts his lips against his ear to whisper Pavel until Chekov moans, rubbing his erection against Sulu's as if nothing has ever aroused him more than the sound of his first name.
"I had a dream that you were different," Sulu says. "You were you, but you weren't."
"Is that why you're acting so strangely?" Chekov asks, smiling up at him as if he approves of this strange behavior.
"Yes," Sulu says. "You know, I never thanked you for taking the time to teach me Russian."
"You're welcome, Hikaru."
"I should teach you this in return," Sulu says, kissing him again, hard and hungry, and Chekov lets out a little moan of distress that melts into a sigh.
"Are you trying to pass this off as a language?" Chekov asks. He licks Sulu's bottom lip and grins.
"I love your tongue," Sulu says breathlessly, and Chekov laughs. Sulu can't remember the last time he saw Chekov laugh. He doesn't look like that other Chekov when he does, though their faces are the same. He laughs a little darkly, in spite of himself, which makes Sulu feel that much better for being able to draw it out of him.
"I love making you happy," Sulu says, his heart still beating fast. "I worry about how much I love it. It's addictive." He wonders if all of this will feel like a dream when he wakes tomorrow: Chekov lingering in his arms, lots of irresponsible talk, the instructional kissing.
"I'm always happy when I'm with you," Chekov says. His voice is hushed, as if he's afraid he'll be heard by someone out in the hall. "Sometimes I think about the way things would be if you weren't here. I know it's pointless, but -- I think about it."
"I won't leave you," Sulu says, in Russian. Chekov kisses him, much more sloppily than that other Chekov did, as if he really is trying to use kissing as a form of communication. He kisses Sulu like he's got so much more to tell him.
"We'll regret acting this way," Chekov says as Sulu's hand slides down between his legs. "It's reckless -- there will be consequences."
"Not if we look after each other," Sulu says. He takes hold of Chekov's weeping cock and drags his thumb through the slit. Chekov cries out, bucking in Sulu's grip.
"Please, Hikaru," Chekov whispers, his eyes pinched shut as his hips twitch in pained little jerks. "I want you inside me."
"Again?" Sulu asks, his heart pounding with the question.
"Yes," Chekov says, nodding wildly as Sulu strokes him. "Again and again and, ahhhh, again - until I can hardly walk - oh - I, I want to think of you when my ass is sore tomorrow morning, when we're sitting together on the bridge."
"Pavel!" Sulu grins and kneels up over him. "What's gotten into you?"
"It's more like what's gotten out of me," Chekov says, looking up at him sheepishly. "It has been - inside of me - this wish - for some time."
It's a bit disconcerting, being inside Chekov when he's already open and wet from being fucked by Sulu's mirror self, but the strangeness of it, the dirtiness, makes Sulu wild with lust all the same. Still, he keeps quiet, and so does Chekov, because they can't be caught overindulging in each other, and also because they can't stop kissing each other long enough to make a sound. Even when Sulu comes, his mouth is still open over Chekov's, and Chekov licks across Sulu's trembling lips with the tip of his tongue until he's coming, too, with a pinched-up little noise that closes around Sulu's heart and claims it forever.
When they're through, they don't clean or dress or move apart. Sulu closes Chekov tightly into his arms, his heart pounding as he waits for Chekov to make an excuse to leave. Instead, Chekov yawns and settles back against him.
"How did you get the idea to try this?" Chekov asks.
"Try what?"
"This! Sleeping together, holding me, kissing my mouth. It's very good stress relief, quite advanced. You must have - gotten the idea from someone you have been with recently."
"No, no," Sulu says. Somehow it doesn't feel like a lie. "I always wanted to try this. After that disaster in the asteroid field today, well - I needed additional stress relief. I needed this."
Chekov moans happily, wiggling back against Sulu as if he can somehow get even closer.
"I needed this, too," he says. Sulu kisses Chekov's shoulders, licks the back of his neck, and feels like he's just successfully piloted the ship through ten thousand asteroid fields when Chekov laughs.
As Sulu falls asleep, he hopes that the Sulu and Chekov from the mirror world have been reunited, wishing he could know for sure. He dreams during the night that they have been, that they are in a bed just like this one, noses together on the pillow and talking late into the night.
"You've got to be kidding," that Chekov says to that Sulu. "Hikaru, you can tell me, I'll forgive you for sleeping with another version of me."
"Pavel, I'm telling you the truth! I really didn't know!"
"You traveled to another universe and had sex with mirrorverse me and didn't even realize it?"
"I just thought you were in a bad mood!"
They dissolve into delirious laughter, and Chekov kisses Sulu's forehead, chiding him in Russian. As Sulu falls deeper into sleep, losing the trail of his dream, he feels as if he knows it for sure: in all the countless versions of the universe, tonight, everything is as it should be.
//
the end.