Spacemen
TITLE: Spacemen
FANDOM: Star Trek TOS
CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Chekov/Sulu
TABLE: # 8 - Miscellaneous B
PROMPT: 06. Travel
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 2432
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: Briefly after the presumed death of Admiral Kirk, Sulu and Chekov spend their leave together. They also act like they're married. Because they are.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. I'm writing for fun, not for profit.
"It's small."
“It’s the biggest there was. And it’s expensive enough to be twice the size.”
“Compared to the Enterprise, it’s small. And beside the Excelsior, you wouldn’t even see it.”
“Hikaru, compared to Galaxy-class vessels every ship with a crew of two is small.”
Sulu sighed. The ship, he had to admit, was nice. Sleek and new and with stronger engines than a ship this size usually had. It was modern and comfortable, and the computer’s voice didn’t hurt his ears. “I have to fly it, see how it feels,” he said. “Still… after commanding the Excelsior for so long, I can’t really take this little thing seriously.”
“Yes, the Excelsior is an impressive ship.” Pavel was looking at him from the side, a faint smile on his lips. “Yet I couldn’t help but notice that you still mention the Enterprise first.”
“What can I say? She was my first love, you could say.” Sulu smiled at the memory. “That’s where we met for the first time. We’ve been through so much with her and our friends. It was home. The Excelsior is fantastic; she’s home now. But the Enterprise… it’s like the place where I grew up, where my family lives.”
Pavel nodded. “For me too. It’s like Russia.”
Sulu poked him in the rips with his elbow, and Pavel chuckled.
“I’ve been on some crazy missions in recent years, but it was never quite like it was on my first ship,” he mused. “Or maybe that’s my memory glorifying things.”
“It’s not,” Sulu said drily. “It really was that crazy.” He sighed for the second time in as many minutes. “I admit, I miss it sometimes. There’s never been a ship like the Enterprise again. The original Enterprise, I mean,” he added sourly.
“Yes, there was,” Pavel argued. “The Enterprise A. It was not the same ship, but it felt the same to me.”
“That’s because the crew was the same. That new ship only happens to have the same name. There’s nothing left of the old time in her. The first thing she did was kill the Admiral - I don’t know how she could have shown any better that she got the wrong name.” To Sulu, the name Enterprise was symbol of a time he would forever treasure, but that was over and not coming back. He had realised that when they had build the Enterprise B and given her to a new crew, people who knew nothing of them and would have their own adventures, their own history. The launch of the new ship and Kirk’s death were like a final line under the best times of their lives. “I have friends among my crew, but even after all these years we’re not nearly as close as I was to Nyota, Scotty, the doc, and of course you.”
“Well, I should hope not!”
“I mean,” Sulu continued, not letting himself be distracted by Pavel’s playful protest, “it’s just not the same. I guess as captain you just can’t be as close to your crew. They won’t let you, even if they like you.” He fell silent for a moment, before he added, “I wonder if it was the same for Kirk.”
“I don’t think so,” said Pavel. He put his hand on Sulu’s shoulder and squeezed. “He had Spock, and Len. Even if he could not be as close to the rest of the crew, they were more than enough, believe me.”
Sulu felt a slow grin creep on his face. “Think any of the rumours were true?”
“I dare not speculate on that.”
“Like hell you don’t.” From one moment to the next, Sulu turned serious again. “How are Spock and McCoy taking it?”
“Not very well, according to Nyota. As expected. But they’ve got each other, they’ll make it. I hear Spock even accepted the job at the academy just so he could stay close to Leonard for a while.”
“So much for that. Once they got over the shock of losing Kirk, their colleagues at the academy will be happy to see Spock leave. Their arguments will become legendary until then.”
Pavel chuckled. “They already have.”
“I don’t doubt it.” There was comfort in the knowledge that despite all the time that had passed, everything that had happened and the different paths they had taken in their lives, some things always remained the same.
Pavel’s hand on Sulu’s shoulder was warm and reassuring.
“Let’s see what she’s got,” the pilot said and started toward the ship.
-
Even after all the years commanding a star ship, Hikaru Sulu had always remained a helmsman at heart. Even if he’d never admit it, Chekov could tell how much his life-long partner had missed taking the helm from the expression on his face when he sat down behind the controls. And when they took off…
That smile could make him fall in love all over again.
It also shaved off twenty years of age, though Chekov had never minded the marks the passage of time had left on Hikaru’s face, nor his own.
He took the role of the navigator until they reached free space and could put the ship on autopilot. Hikaru did it a lot later than necessary, and he flew a lot more loops and spirals than he absolutely needed to, but Chekov couldn’t really find it in himself to complain.
Eventually, his partner leaned back in his seat and looked out into the field of stars.
“There’s nothing better than this,” he said. “A star in the distance, and a ship to take us there.”
“And then the next star, once we get there. I know you,” Chekov commented. “Just don’t pick one too far away, I’ve only got leave for two weeks.”
Hiraku grimaced “Did you just have to remind me? Let’s just forget about that for the next two weeks.”
“As long as we are not too far from Earth by the time the two weeks are over, I’ll happily pretend this is our own ship, and not one we rented, and that neither of us has a job we have to return to.”
“I can’t pretend this is our ship,” Hikaru protested. “It’s too small.”
Chekov looked around for something he could whack him over the head with. “You’re spoiled.”
“You mean, I’ve got standards.”
“No, you’re spoiled.” There was nothing for him to do anymore, so Chekov got up. “Much as I’d love to admire the stars with you, I need to go find a couch I can let you sleep on if you don’t stop complaining about this very nice ship I picked for us.”
“When exactly did you turn into my wife?” Hikaru called after him.
“When you married me. But if anything, you are the wife.”
The closing door kindly cut off any protest his partner likely voiced against this. Grinning to himself, Chekov went to give a closer inspection to the rest of the little vessel.
-
The rest of the little vessel was indeed very nice, and probably even worth the price. They were both earning well, but one of them alone would not have been able to afford it for too weeks. At least not without going without food for the duration of their leave.
It was rare enough for them to have leave at the same time, least so long. Since their relationship prevented them from serving on the same ship, they didn’t see each other all that often. It was okay, most of the time. But this trip into outer space, just the two of them, was badly needed in Chekov’s opinion. He was beginning to show signs of withdrawal.
There probably was something significant about the fact that they were working in space, and what they did when they had a break from work for a notable amount of time was rent a ship and return to the stars.
While only two people were needed to fly this ship, it could hold up to ten, so they actually had some sleeping accommodations to choose from. Since Hikaru was still busy flirting with the stars, Chekov decided to pick a room for them.
He finished his search for the perfect quarters a little annoyed. For this price, was it really too much to expect at least one room with a double bed?
Well, they’d make do. The beds were narrow, but so had been the beds on the Enterprise, and they had been able to share those too.
And in this case they wouldn’t even risk their jobs if they were caught, nor was there anyone to catch them. Unless some entity from the dark of space found its way into their vessel while they were sleeping and tried to take over the computer to use their ship to attack Earth. It was, admittedly, unlikely, but Chekov wouldn’t be too surprised if it happened anyway. Those who had served on Kirk’s Enterprise were doomed to run into things like that on a regular basis.
They also had a small kitchen, in case anyone felt like having a dinner that was not prepared by the replicator. Chekov approved of this. But right now he saw it as something for another day. There were more important things than food now.
Like coffee.
They had brought their own coffee, because replicated coffee was terrible. Enjoying the feeling of having an entire space ship (albeit a small one) all to himself, Chekov hummed a happy little song and brewed a happy little cup of coffee. It was his favourite brand, something he rarely got to drink when he was on his ship.
When he tried it, he discovered that he wouldn’t get to enjoy it now either. There appeared to be something about space that made all coffee not made on a planet taste stale and dead.
Perhaps this was the planets’ way of ensuring all travellers eventually came home.
There still was no sign of Hikaru when Chekov gave up on the coffee for the moment. Returning to the small control room at the head of the ship, he found the other man still sitting in the pilot’s chair, his hands folded behind his head. Chekov stopped behind him to gaze at the stars flying by outside. They were nearing an old, fading nebula, left over from a star that died long ago. It still told of past glory in veils of scarlet, green and blue.
After a minute, the Russian put his hands on his partner’s shoulders. For a while they watched the universe in silence.
“He might have been the wrong ship, but at least the Admiral died in the right place,” Chekov eventually said. Hikaru made a non-commital sound in response.
“Please don’t wonder if we’re going the same way one day,” he said. “I’m feeling too good to get morbid right now.”
“There’s nothing morbid about wondering if we’re going to die the same way we’ve lived.”
“Actually, it is.”
“You think so? I think it would be nice. Kind of fitting, don’t you think?”
In response, Hikaru pointed out to the fading nebula. “Every sun will eventually die, and take her planets with her. They turn to stardust and new stars are born from that dust. So it doesn’t matter where we die. Everyone is going the same way in the end.”
Chekov smiled softly. “You have been here for too long. I’d forgotten that staring at the stars makes you philosophical.”
“Being married to you makes me philosophical. I philosophise about the end a lot.”
The navigator finally found something to whack his significant other over the head with: his hand. His other hand, however was still resting on Hikaru’s shoulder, and now it was being taken and gently pulled, so Chekov had no chance but to follow until he half-sat in Hikaru’s lap.
Fortunately the ship was designed for comfort, so there was a lot more room on and around the pilot’s chair that strictly necessary. If they found they didn’t fit into the beds after all, they could always…
“You know, I’ve been thinking about Admiral Kirk a lot lately,” Hikaru said.
“That’s understandable. So have I.” Chekov leaned against him. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about all our friends a lot since he died. I guess that’s just natural.”
“I suppose so. I’ve also found myself wondering who will be next. It’s like we’re not immortal anymore.”
“Who’s morbid now?” Chekov teased. “We’re not that old. Do you expect to fell over anytime soon?”
“You never know what happens. Especially to us.” Hikaru smiled, and lifted his hand to rest on Chekov’s hip. “A formless alien could board the ship on our next stop and eat our brains.”
Chekov snorted, remembering the quite similar contemplations he had earlier. “Or it could take over my body and you’d never notice.”
Hikaru’s hand was slowly stroking up and down Chekov’s side. “I’m sure I would notice. You’re hard to imitate.”
“You’re right. They’d get the accent all wrong.”
“I wasn’t talking about the accent.” Hikaru increased the pressure of his hand ever so slightly.
“Hikaru,” Chekov said.
“Yes, Pavel?”
“You know what’s great about a small ship with a crew of only two?” He grinned and leaned down for a kiss. “There’s no risk of anyone disturbing us.” Potential brain eating aliens excluded.
The kiss lasted for a considerable amount of time. When it was over, both of them were missing important bits of their clothes. After that, some more time passed.
The pilot’s seat really was comfortable.
After a while, Hikaru started to laugh softly.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was thinking of Kirk again.”
“Ow.” Chekov winced and thought about violence. “That was a very, very bad moment to say that!”
“You think so? Seems appropriate to me.”
“Why ever would it be appropriate to think of the Admiral while you are having sex with me?”
There was something to be said about being married to a man who could still surprise him after so long a time.
“Because we are having sex in the control seat of a space ship.” Hikaru grinned. “If this isn’t a good moment to think of Jim Kirk, I wouldn’t know what is.”
Come to think of it, he was definitely right.
“Come to think of it, you’re right,” Chekov admitted. “But you know, I’d still prefer it if you were thinking only of me for the next two weeks.”
Hikaru made the promise to do so, and Chekov did his best to make sure he kept it.
November 25, 2009
FANDOM: Star Trek TOS
CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Chekov/Sulu
TABLE: # 8 - Miscellaneous B
PROMPT: 06. Travel
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 2432
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: Briefly after the presumed death of Admiral Kirk, Sulu and Chekov spend their leave together. They also act like they're married. Because they are.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. I'm writing for fun, not for profit.
"It's small."
“It’s the biggest there was. And it’s expensive enough to be twice the size.”
“Compared to the Enterprise, it’s small. And beside the Excelsior, you wouldn’t even see it.”
“Hikaru, compared to Galaxy-class vessels every ship with a crew of two is small.”
Sulu sighed. The ship, he had to admit, was nice. Sleek and new and with stronger engines than a ship this size usually had. It was modern and comfortable, and the computer’s voice didn’t hurt his ears. “I have to fly it, see how it feels,” he said. “Still… after commanding the Excelsior for so long, I can’t really take this little thing seriously.”
“Yes, the Excelsior is an impressive ship.” Pavel was looking at him from the side, a faint smile on his lips. “Yet I couldn’t help but notice that you still mention the Enterprise first.”
“What can I say? She was my first love, you could say.” Sulu smiled at the memory. “That’s where we met for the first time. We’ve been through so much with her and our friends. It was home. The Excelsior is fantastic; she’s home now. But the Enterprise… it’s like the place where I grew up, where my family lives.”
Pavel nodded. “For me too. It’s like Russia.”
Sulu poked him in the rips with his elbow, and Pavel chuckled.
“I’ve been on some crazy missions in recent years, but it was never quite like it was on my first ship,” he mused. “Or maybe that’s my memory glorifying things.”
“It’s not,” Sulu said drily. “It really was that crazy.” He sighed for the second time in as many minutes. “I admit, I miss it sometimes. There’s never been a ship like the Enterprise again. The original Enterprise, I mean,” he added sourly.
“Yes, there was,” Pavel argued. “The Enterprise A. It was not the same ship, but it felt the same to me.”
“That’s because the crew was the same. That new ship only happens to have the same name. There’s nothing left of the old time in her. The first thing she did was kill the Admiral - I don’t know how she could have shown any better that she got the wrong name.” To Sulu, the name Enterprise was symbol of a time he would forever treasure, but that was over and not coming back. He had realised that when they had build the Enterprise B and given her to a new crew, people who knew nothing of them and would have their own adventures, their own history. The launch of the new ship and Kirk’s death were like a final line under the best times of their lives. “I have friends among my crew, but even after all these years we’re not nearly as close as I was to Nyota, Scotty, the doc, and of course you.”
“Well, I should hope not!”
“I mean,” Sulu continued, not letting himself be distracted by Pavel’s playful protest, “it’s just not the same. I guess as captain you just can’t be as close to your crew. They won’t let you, even if they like you.” He fell silent for a moment, before he added, “I wonder if it was the same for Kirk.”
“I don’t think so,” said Pavel. He put his hand on Sulu’s shoulder and squeezed. “He had Spock, and Len. Even if he could not be as close to the rest of the crew, they were more than enough, believe me.”
Sulu felt a slow grin creep on his face. “Think any of the rumours were true?”
“I dare not speculate on that.”
“Like hell you don’t.” From one moment to the next, Sulu turned serious again. “How are Spock and McCoy taking it?”
“Not very well, according to Nyota. As expected. But they’ve got each other, they’ll make it. I hear Spock even accepted the job at the academy just so he could stay close to Leonard for a while.”
“So much for that. Once they got over the shock of losing Kirk, their colleagues at the academy will be happy to see Spock leave. Their arguments will become legendary until then.”
Pavel chuckled. “They already have.”
“I don’t doubt it.” There was comfort in the knowledge that despite all the time that had passed, everything that had happened and the different paths they had taken in their lives, some things always remained the same.
Pavel’s hand on Sulu’s shoulder was warm and reassuring.
“Let’s see what she’s got,” the pilot said and started toward the ship.
-
Even after all the years commanding a star ship, Hikaru Sulu had always remained a helmsman at heart. Even if he’d never admit it, Chekov could tell how much his life-long partner had missed taking the helm from the expression on his face when he sat down behind the controls. And when they took off…
That smile could make him fall in love all over again.
It also shaved off twenty years of age, though Chekov had never minded the marks the passage of time had left on Hikaru’s face, nor his own.
He took the role of the navigator until they reached free space and could put the ship on autopilot. Hikaru did it a lot later than necessary, and he flew a lot more loops and spirals than he absolutely needed to, but Chekov couldn’t really find it in himself to complain.
Eventually, his partner leaned back in his seat and looked out into the field of stars.
“There’s nothing better than this,” he said. “A star in the distance, and a ship to take us there.”
“And then the next star, once we get there. I know you,” Chekov commented. “Just don’t pick one too far away, I’ve only got leave for two weeks.”
Hiraku grimaced “Did you just have to remind me? Let’s just forget about that for the next two weeks.”
“As long as we are not too far from Earth by the time the two weeks are over, I’ll happily pretend this is our own ship, and not one we rented, and that neither of us has a job we have to return to.”
“I can’t pretend this is our ship,” Hikaru protested. “It’s too small.”
Chekov looked around for something he could whack him over the head with. “You’re spoiled.”
“You mean, I’ve got standards.”
“No, you’re spoiled.” There was nothing for him to do anymore, so Chekov got up. “Much as I’d love to admire the stars with you, I need to go find a couch I can let you sleep on if you don’t stop complaining about this very nice ship I picked for us.”
“When exactly did you turn into my wife?” Hikaru called after him.
“When you married me. But if anything, you are the wife.”
The closing door kindly cut off any protest his partner likely voiced against this. Grinning to himself, Chekov went to give a closer inspection to the rest of the little vessel.
-
The rest of the little vessel was indeed very nice, and probably even worth the price. They were both earning well, but one of them alone would not have been able to afford it for too weeks. At least not without going without food for the duration of their leave.
It was rare enough for them to have leave at the same time, least so long. Since their relationship prevented them from serving on the same ship, they didn’t see each other all that often. It was okay, most of the time. But this trip into outer space, just the two of them, was badly needed in Chekov’s opinion. He was beginning to show signs of withdrawal.
There probably was something significant about the fact that they were working in space, and what they did when they had a break from work for a notable amount of time was rent a ship and return to the stars.
While only two people were needed to fly this ship, it could hold up to ten, so they actually had some sleeping accommodations to choose from. Since Hikaru was still busy flirting with the stars, Chekov decided to pick a room for them.
He finished his search for the perfect quarters a little annoyed. For this price, was it really too much to expect at least one room with a double bed?
Well, they’d make do. The beds were narrow, but so had been the beds on the Enterprise, and they had been able to share those too.
And in this case they wouldn’t even risk their jobs if they were caught, nor was there anyone to catch them. Unless some entity from the dark of space found its way into their vessel while they were sleeping and tried to take over the computer to use their ship to attack Earth. It was, admittedly, unlikely, but Chekov wouldn’t be too surprised if it happened anyway. Those who had served on Kirk’s Enterprise were doomed to run into things like that on a regular basis.
They also had a small kitchen, in case anyone felt like having a dinner that was not prepared by the replicator. Chekov approved of this. But right now he saw it as something for another day. There were more important things than food now.
Like coffee.
They had brought their own coffee, because replicated coffee was terrible. Enjoying the feeling of having an entire space ship (albeit a small one) all to himself, Chekov hummed a happy little song and brewed a happy little cup of coffee. It was his favourite brand, something he rarely got to drink when he was on his ship.
When he tried it, he discovered that he wouldn’t get to enjoy it now either. There appeared to be something about space that made all coffee not made on a planet taste stale and dead.
Perhaps this was the planets’ way of ensuring all travellers eventually came home.
There still was no sign of Hikaru when Chekov gave up on the coffee for the moment. Returning to the small control room at the head of the ship, he found the other man still sitting in the pilot’s chair, his hands folded behind his head. Chekov stopped behind him to gaze at the stars flying by outside. They were nearing an old, fading nebula, left over from a star that died long ago. It still told of past glory in veils of scarlet, green and blue.
After a minute, the Russian put his hands on his partner’s shoulders. For a while they watched the universe in silence.
“He might have been the wrong ship, but at least the Admiral died in the right place,” Chekov eventually said. Hikaru made a non-commital sound in response.
“Please don’t wonder if we’re going the same way one day,” he said. “I’m feeling too good to get morbid right now.”
“There’s nothing morbid about wondering if we’re going to die the same way we’ve lived.”
“Actually, it is.”
“You think so? I think it would be nice. Kind of fitting, don’t you think?”
In response, Hikaru pointed out to the fading nebula. “Every sun will eventually die, and take her planets with her. They turn to stardust and new stars are born from that dust. So it doesn’t matter where we die. Everyone is going the same way in the end.”
Chekov smiled softly. “You have been here for too long. I’d forgotten that staring at the stars makes you philosophical.”
“Being married to you makes me philosophical. I philosophise about the end a lot.”
The navigator finally found something to whack his significant other over the head with: his hand. His other hand, however was still resting on Hikaru’s shoulder, and now it was being taken and gently pulled, so Chekov had no chance but to follow until he half-sat in Hikaru’s lap.
Fortunately the ship was designed for comfort, so there was a lot more room on and around the pilot’s chair that strictly necessary. If they found they didn’t fit into the beds after all, they could always…
“You know, I’ve been thinking about Admiral Kirk a lot lately,” Hikaru said.
“That’s understandable. So have I.” Chekov leaned against him. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about all our friends a lot since he died. I guess that’s just natural.”
“I suppose so. I’ve also found myself wondering who will be next. It’s like we’re not immortal anymore.”
“Who’s morbid now?” Chekov teased. “We’re not that old. Do you expect to fell over anytime soon?”
“You never know what happens. Especially to us.” Hikaru smiled, and lifted his hand to rest on Chekov’s hip. “A formless alien could board the ship on our next stop and eat our brains.”
Chekov snorted, remembering the quite similar contemplations he had earlier. “Or it could take over my body and you’d never notice.”
Hikaru’s hand was slowly stroking up and down Chekov’s side. “I’m sure I would notice. You’re hard to imitate.”
“You’re right. They’d get the accent all wrong.”
“I wasn’t talking about the accent.” Hikaru increased the pressure of his hand ever so slightly.
“Hikaru,” Chekov said.
“Yes, Pavel?”
“You know what’s great about a small ship with a crew of only two?” He grinned and leaned down for a kiss. “There’s no risk of anyone disturbing us.” Potential brain eating aliens excluded.
The kiss lasted for a considerable amount of time. When it was over, both of them were missing important bits of their clothes. After that, some more time passed.
The pilot’s seat really was comfortable.
After a while, Hikaru started to laugh softly.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was thinking of Kirk again.”
“Ow.” Chekov winced and thought about violence. “That was a very, very bad moment to say that!”
“You think so? Seems appropriate to me.”
“Why ever would it be appropriate to think of the Admiral while you are having sex with me?”
There was something to be said about being married to a man who could still surprise him after so long a time.
“Because we are having sex in the control seat of a space ship.” Hikaru grinned. “If this isn’t a good moment to think of Jim Kirk, I wouldn’t know what is.”
Come to think of it, he was definitely right.
“Come to think of it, you’re right,” Chekov admitted. “But you know, I’d still prefer it if you were thinking only of me for the next two weeks.”
Hikaru made the promise to do so, and Chekov did his best to make sure he kept it.
November 25, 2009