With the Leftover You - Star Trek Reboot - Kirk/Chekov
Title: With the Leftover You
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Kirk/Chekov
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,090
Disclaimer: This is completely a work of fiction. I own nothing and am making no money off this, so please don't sue me.
Summary: Chekov isn't being his normally happy self. Jim takes it upon himself to cheer him up.
Warnings: This remains PG-13, but Chekov is underage here, so don't read if that bothers you.
Author's Note: 1. Written for lackadaisy for the music meme in which she requested Kirk/Chekov for the song, Where does the Good Go? Title is of course, taken from the aforementioned Tegan & Sara song. I hope you enjoy it, sweetie! 2. I should probably warn this is unbetaed so feel free to point out any mistakes. 3. This was supposed to fit in a comment, but I fail at sticking under the LJ comment limit so I just put it here.
Jim couldn’t stand to watch. It was painful. Ensign Chekov was such an adorable, cheerful kid. He always had this bright smile on his face, always lit up when Jim walked in, calling out with an enthusiastic “Good Morning, Keptin!” Chekov was the bright ray of sunshine on the Enterprise, one that always made Jim smile.
But now the poor kid was always down in the dumps. He sat at his post, never saying anything unless he was spoken too. He wore a neutral expression on his face, shining no longer. The light had been taken out of his eyes and replaced with something dull and somber. It was just so pitiful.
How could Jim just watch? He’s the Captain! He was supposed to look out for his crew.
So every morning, Jim made sure to personally say hello to Chekov. Jim made sure to always ask about Chekov’s day, even if Chekov’s response barely counted as words. Jim made sure that he clapped Chekov on the back with a “Good job, kid!” every chance he got.
Everyone needed a morale booster every once in a while. It was Chekov’s turn.
And it worked. Chekov grinned at him, wide and bright once more whenever Jim walked in. Jim managed slight smiles from the kid whenever he brought him aside and asked him about his day. He pulled laughter from the kid whenever he regaled Chekov with stories from the past, jokes he’d heard, making himself the butt of the joke if need be. And whenever Jim leaned over Chekov’s shoulder and whispered “nice work, kid,” in private, Chekov blushed and smiled modestly, thanking him. He didn’t say much else and didn’t smile much more throughout the day but for Jim? The kid glowed.
Then one day, Bones pulled him aside. “What the hell are you doing?” He grumbled at Jim, face twisted into a sort of bewildered glower.
“Huh?”
“With,” Bones gestured wildly in Chekov’s generally direction, “The Russian whiz kid there. You don’t stray more than five feet from him if you don’t have to.”
“Have you seen him? It’s like someone kicked a puppy!” Jim objected.
“You’re flirting with him,” Bones glared. “The constant touches, the way you speak to him, the lack of personal space, have you seen him when he’s around you? You make him so happy, you can see sunshine coming out of his ass.”
Jim blinked. “That’s not true. You’re just mad because you think I’m showing favoritism. You wouldn’t be complaining if I was paying more attention to you.” Bones rolled his eyes as usual, walking away and muttering about age of consent laws and idiot captains.
Well, that showed how much he knew. Honestly, it wasn’t like Jim was doing anything wrong. He was just being a good captain. In fact, Jim felt rather proud of himself, of how supportive he was being with Chekov.
And he liked Chekov, there wasn’t anything wrong with wanting him to be happy. Even if Jim really did enjoy spending time with the kid, that didn’t mean Bones was right.
So what if Jim enjoyed making him smile? So what if Jim liked the idea that these days, Chekov only smiled for him? So what if he liked the sound of his laugh? So what if Chekov looked adorable when he blushed, when a smile tugged at his features and his dimples showed and Jim maybe wanted to ki-
Oh, hell. Why did Bones always have to be right?
Jim decided to invite Chekov to his private quarters for a drink. He had no fucking clue what he was doing, of course. The best course of action, the proper, professional course of action would be to cease all flirtatious contact with Chekov and go back to being a regular captain and y’know, not develop crushes on 17-year-old navigators.
But he’s James T. Kirk. He’s never been one for proper.
Chekov was all wide-eyed and adorable as usual, glancing around like a kid in a candy store.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Jim could never resist bragging.
“Yes,” Chekov agreed, sitting on his couch, “But why am I here, Keptin?”
Jim poured the kid something to drink; he wasn’t sure what it was, but he “borrowed” it from Bones, so it probably wasn’t that bad.
“Call me Jim. Everybody who sees this room gets to call me Jim.” He smirked, then wondered if that was such a good idea to be on first name basis. Chekov smiled at him though, so hey, no problem. Hopefully.
“I’m worried for you, kiddo.” Jim managed to finally come out with it.
“Worried, Keptin-I mean Jim?” Chekov took a sip, and didn’t seem interested in drinking more. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m doing well.”
Jim sat down next to him on his couch. “Well, that’s good to hear, Chekov-”
“Call me Pavel.” He interrupted with a smile.
Jim grinned back, the kid’s smile infectious as always, his arm sliding down around Chekov comfortably, like he was welcome there.
“Okay then. Pavel.” Huh, it sounded odd in his mouth. Not bad, just not what he was used to. “Well, I’ve noticed you’ve been rather…sad, lately. Unhappy, as it seems.”
Chekov bowed his head, staring at his drink. It made Jim a little nervous that he could no longer see the kid’s expression.
“It’s true,” Chekov said. “I was…unhappy, as you say for a while, for reasons I’d rather not disclose.”
Chekov then turned his head back up and his smile was so wide and bright, radiant in the sudden outburst of joy, Jim was taken aback from the sheer happiness of it.
“I’m not anymore, Jim.”
And that was when Chekov kissed him, when the kid reached up and grabbed Jim’s hair gently, tentative, but kissing Jim all the same.
Jim would be lying if he said he didn’t see this coming, if he hadn’t suspected that maybe Chekov may have been flirting as well, in his own adorable way. Jim would be lying if he said he didn’t want to do this, that he hadn’t considered it. But there were so many objections he could think of, so many reasons to turn him away; Jim is the Captain, he’s Chekov’s-Pavel’s-superior, he was 17 years old, for Christ’s sake.
But he’s Kirk. James T. Kirk. He’s never been a stickler for following the rules. In fact, he’s always gone after what he wanted, and fuck the rules.
Jim gripped Pavel’s head, brought him closer and let himself kiss him, soft and sweet, exactly what Pavel deserved.
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Kirk/Chekov
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,090
Disclaimer: This is completely a work of fiction. I own nothing and am making no money off this, so please don't sue me.
Summary: Chekov isn't being his normally happy self. Jim takes it upon himself to cheer him up.
Warnings: This remains PG-13, but Chekov is underage here, so don't read if that bothers you.
Author's Note: 1. Written for lackadaisy for the music meme in which she requested Kirk/Chekov for the song, Where does the Good Go? Title is of course, taken from the aforementioned Tegan & Sara song. I hope you enjoy it, sweetie! 2. I should probably warn this is unbetaed so feel free to point out any mistakes. 3. This was supposed to fit in a comment, but I fail at sticking under the LJ comment limit so I just put it here.
Jim couldn’t stand to watch. It was painful. Ensign Chekov was such an adorable, cheerful kid. He always had this bright smile on his face, always lit up when Jim walked in, calling out with an enthusiastic “Good Morning, Keptin!” Chekov was the bright ray of sunshine on the Enterprise, one that always made Jim smile.
But now the poor kid was always down in the dumps. He sat at his post, never saying anything unless he was spoken too. He wore a neutral expression on his face, shining no longer. The light had been taken out of his eyes and replaced with something dull and somber. It was just so pitiful.
How could Jim just watch? He’s the Captain! He was supposed to look out for his crew.
So every morning, Jim made sure to personally say hello to Chekov. Jim made sure to always ask about Chekov’s day, even if Chekov’s response barely counted as words. Jim made sure that he clapped Chekov on the back with a “Good job, kid!” every chance he got.
Everyone needed a morale booster every once in a while. It was Chekov’s turn.
And it worked. Chekov grinned at him, wide and bright once more whenever Jim walked in. Jim managed slight smiles from the kid whenever he brought him aside and asked him about his day. He pulled laughter from the kid whenever he regaled Chekov with stories from the past, jokes he’d heard, making himself the butt of the joke if need be. And whenever Jim leaned over Chekov’s shoulder and whispered “nice work, kid,” in private, Chekov blushed and smiled modestly, thanking him. He didn’t say much else and didn’t smile much more throughout the day but for Jim? The kid glowed.
Then one day, Bones pulled him aside. “What the hell are you doing?” He grumbled at Jim, face twisted into a sort of bewildered glower.
“Huh?”
“With,” Bones gestured wildly in Chekov’s generally direction, “The Russian whiz kid there. You don’t stray more than five feet from him if you don’t have to.”
“Have you seen him? It’s like someone kicked a puppy!” Jim objected.
“You’re flirting with him,” Bones glared. “The constant touches, the way you speak to him, the lack of personal space, have you seen him when he’s around you? You make him so happy, you can see sunshine coming out of his ass.”
Jim blinked. “That’s not true. You’re just mad because you think I’m showing favoritism. You wouldn’t be complaining if I was paying more attention to you.” Bones rolled his eyes as usual, walking away and muttering about age of consent laws and idiot captains.
Well, that showed how much he knew. Honestly, it wasn’t like Jim was doing anything wrong. He was just being a good captain. In fact, Jim felt rather proud of himself, of how supportive he was being with Chekov.
And he liked Chekov, there wasn’t anything wrong with wanting him to be happy. Even if Jim really did enjoy spending time with the kid, that didn’t mean Bones was right.
So what if Jim enjoyed making him smile? So what if Jim liked the idea that these days, Chekov only smiled for him? So what if he liked the sound of his laugh? So what if Chekov looked adorable when he blushed, when a smile tugged at his features and his dimples showed and Jim maybe wanted to ki-
Oh, hell. Why did Bones always have to be right?
Jim decided to invite Chekov to his private quarters for a drink. He had no fucking clue what he was doing, of course. The best course of action, the proper, professional course of action would be to cease all flirtatious contact with Chekov and go back to being a regular captain and y’know, not develop crushes on 17-year-old navigators.
But he’s James T. Kirk. He’s never been one for proper.
Chekov was all wide-eyed and adorable as usual, glancing around like a kid in a candy store.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Jim could never resist bragging.
“Yes,” Chekov agreed, sitting on his couch, “But why am I here, Keptin?”
Jim poured the kid something to drink; he wasn’t sure what it was, but he “borrowed” it from Bones, so it probably wasn’t that bad.
“Call me Jim. Everybody who sees this room gets to call me Jim.” He smirked, then wondered if that was such a good idea to be on first name basis. Chekov smiled at him though, so hey, no problem. Hopefully.
“I’m worried for you, kiddo.” Jim managed to finally come out with it.
“Worried, Keptin-I mean Jim?” Chekov took a sip, and didn’t seem interested in drinking more. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m doing well.”
Jim sat down next to him on his couch. “Well, that’s good to hear, Chekov-”
“Call me Pavel.” He interrupted with a smile.
Jim grinned back, the kid’s smile infectious as always, his arm sliding down around Chekov comfortably, like he was welcome there.
“Okay then. Pavel.” Huh, it sounded odd in his mouth. Not bad, just not what he was used to. “Well, I’ve noticed you’ve been rather…sad, lately. Unhappy, as it seems.”
Chekov bowed his head, staring at his drink. It made Jim a little nervous that he could no longer see the kid’s expression.
“It’s true,” Chekov said. “I was…unhappy, as you say for a while, for reasons I’d rather not disclose.”
Chekov then turned his head back up and his smile was so wide and bright, radiant in the sudden outburst of joy, Jim was taken aback from the sheer happiness of it.
“I’m not anymore, Jim.”
And that was when Chekov kissed him, when the kid reached up and grabbed Jim’s hair gently, tentative, but kissing Jim all the same.
Jim would be lying if he said he didn’t see this coming, if he hadn’t suspected that maybe Chekov may have been flirting as well, in his own adorable way. Jim would be lying if he said he didn’t want to do this, that he hadn’t considered it. But there were so many objections he could think of, so many reasons to turn him away; Jim is the Captain, he’s Chekov’s-Pavel’s-superior, he was 17 years old, for Christ’s sake.
But he’s Kirk. James T. Kirk. He’s never been a stickler for following the rules. In fact, he’s always gone after what he wanted, and fuck the rules.
Jim gripped Pavel’s head, brought him closer and let himself kiss him, soft and sweet, exactly what Pavel deserved.