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Title: Bad Advice (And the good advice he didn't take)
Author: [ profile] dea_liberty
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov (Star Trek XI)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Umm...fluff?
Disclaimer: Not mine! Just playing in someone else's sandbox.
A/N: Originally written in answer to a prompt for the crew keeps giving Chekov dating advice and he keeps taking it at [ profile] st_xi_kink. For that reason, this is unpolished and unbetaed.

Chekov isn't even sure how the news got around.

Okay, maybe he's a little sure because they'd celebrated his 18th birthday in style and everyone had banded together to get him completely, mindblowingly drunk. He knows he babbles when he's drunk (which is why it is a good thing that he has high alcohol tolerance). They'd tried to hire him a hooker, if he remembers rightly (it's all a little fuzzy) and he turned them down.

Which probably means he'd babbled to the entire bridge that he already had his eyes set on someone. He'd hoped they'd just forget it and move on. He was wrong.

It starts the day after his birthday. They don't even give him time to get over the hangover.


McCoy laughs when Chekov shows up at the door looking for something to help ease the hangover. It's not his fault; he hasn't had one since he finished his first bottle of vodka when he was 9.

"So," McCoy says. "This mystery person of yours..."


He collapses just before their shift ends. Goes down hard - harder than he'd meant to - head hitting the corner of the console. He doesn't even have to fake the whimper. He pushes himself up, puts a hand to his forehead, eyes wide at the blood staining his fingers.

"Chekov!" Kirk shouts, swooping down beside him. "Are you okay? What did you think you were doing?"

Behind him, Chekov can see Sulu standing, half way out of his seat, hands outstretched. "Aye, Captain, I'm okay. Sorry, Captain," he says, looking sheepish.

Kirk turns his attention to Sulu. "Why didn't you catch him?" Kirk demands and Sulu gapes. "You were right there!"

"Uh, Captain..." Chekov says, moving. "I'm okay."

"No, no!" Kirk says dramatically and sweeps Chekov off his feet, picks him up and carries him out the door.

McCoy blinks at them when the door opens and, when Kirk's finally gone back to the bridge, McCoy looks back at him, raising one eyebrow. "Kirk? Really?"

He shakes his head, winces a little. "It didn't work, Mister McCoy," he says sadly. "The Captain..."

McCoy snorts. "Had to be the hero. Yeah, yeah. Now, let's have a look at the damage." He prods him. Chekov winches again. "I said pretend, Ensign," he says with a sigh. "Not give yourself a concussion."

McCoy doesn't even let anyone visit him. So much for helping him out.



Chekov has to admit he's a little scared when Scotty corners him, draws something out of his jacket and winks.


They're sitting on the floor in Sulu's room, giggling like little girls.

One bottle of vodka had turned into a bottle of sake. And back to vodka. And Chekov might have lost count. He's giggling too hard, and Sulu's on his back, practically dying of laughter, choking a little, wheezing breaths between snorts.

Chekov tips backwards, grinning like a fool, turning a little to look at Sulu, who's looking back at him, all soft, intoxicated easiness.

He doesn't really remember what he had planned but he knows he wants to lean forwards, kiss him and - Sulu shoves the bottle of whatever-they're-drinking back at him and he just grins stupidly, sits up and takes a wobbly drag. He can kiss him later. "Ah," he says. "I love vodka."

"That's sake," Sulu slurs.

"Whatever," he says, beaming at Sulu's ceiling. "I love that too."

He doesn't remember falling asleep. He does, however, wake up with a pounding headache. He should know better by now.



"Ensign," Spock says. Chekov fights the urge to groan. "Might I suggest logic?"

At Chekov's confused look, Spock continues. "In order to woo the object of your interest, I would suggest using logic."


"Sulu," he says. They're in deep space; there's not much to do except sit there and wait. Sulu looks over at him, raises an eyebrow. "We're good together, aren't we?"

Sulu looks a little worried. "Yes. Are you okay?"

Chekov nods, laughs a little and shakes his head. "Yes, yes. I just. We are a good pair, yes?"

"Yes." Sulu slides over in his chair, sticks a hand on Chekov's forehead. "Do you not think so?"

"Well yes, but...I want to know what you think. Is that bad?"

"We're the best," Sulu says, laughing. "Everyone knows that."

Chekov huffs. "Is not what I meant. I mean, personally. You and me. We are good, yes?"

"'re my best friend," Sulu says. "Everyone knows that too. What the hell is wrong, Chekov?"

He throws up his hands and swears in Russian. "Nevermind," he says, and storms off the brige back to his room.



"You could try writing it down," Uhura suggests. And Chekov stares.

"Uhura...?" He says carefully. "Writing what down?"

"What you wanted to tell Sulu," she says, grinning a little. "I think everyone got it except the Lieutenant. If you're embarrassed, you could write it in Russian. And then he'd have to come and ask you, right?"


"Chekov!" Sulu says, running to catch up with him.

"This is it," Chekov thinks. "He is finally going to ask me. And I will finally tell him."

"You left a letter in my room." Sulu grins lop-sidedly at him. "You must have forgotten it there last night."

"Yes," he says slowly, nodding. "And?"

"I sent it off to your mother for you."

Chekov gapes. "You didn't." He says, eyes wide as saucers. "Oh niet, Sulu, tell me you are joking. Tell me you didn't..."

His PADD bleeps. A message from his mother.

He's never going to get to tell Sulu; he's going to die of embarrassment first. And it's all Sulu's fault.



"Why don't you just tell him?" Kirk asks.

Chekov pouts at his sandwich, taking a vicious bite. "I have had enough advice, with all due respect, Captain," he says. "It does not work."

"Have you tried telling him?"

"What do you think I've been trying to do?" Chekov cries. He sighs and stares morosely at his lunch. "He does not want to know, maybe. It is Sulu. He is probably trying to be kind. Proper, as he says."

He ignores Kirk's raised eyebrow.

"This is not proper, yes?"

Kirk slides his chair back, pats him on the head and says, "Tell him."


"Sulu," Chekov says - and then falters when Sulu looks at him, head tipped to the side.


He bites his bottom lip and thinks about failure, shakes his head and looks back at his console. "Is nothing," he says after a moment. "Sorry. I was just. Is okay. I've worked it out."

It isn't proper and Sulu is always proper.

When it comes to romance, why would Kirk's advice be the best anyway, right? They always say his advice is not so good.

Ensign, they always say, never take the Captain's advice.

He's just doing as he's told.



"Chekov!" Sulu says, and Chekov quickens his steps, walks with determination towards his room. "Pavel, wait. C'mon, wait up."

Chekov turns around with a long sigh. "Yes, Hikaru?" If Sulu is going to cheat and use his first name, Chekov is going to do the same. He's determined to deal with this well, like the grown up that he is.

He tips his chin up a little. "What is it?"

"So, I heard you're interested in someone," Sulu says. "They're talking, on the bridge, about...well, advising you."

Chekov's lips thinned. "Yes," he says. "And?"

"Want my advice?"

"Not really," Chekov says with a sigh, shakes his head. If Sulu hasn't noticed, maybe he doesn't want to. Or maybe he has noticed, and he's been trying not to. Because they're good together, yes. As friends.

"I'm going to give it anyway," he says and takes one step closer. "Maybe the guy's just really clueless and the subtle stuff isn't working."

"It's not even subtle," Chekov cries, throwing up his hands. "Not even a little bit."

"Okay, so maybe he's noticed but he know, you can't mean it. Or that there's a misunderstanding, and you...there's some kind of language mix-up, and you can't really be saying what you're trying to say because...well, everyone likes you and why would you like them?"

This must be something to do with different languages and cultures, and Chekov thinks he must be translating this wrong. Because Sulu cannot be saying what he's saying.

"You want me advice?" Sulu says after a moment, taking another step closer until they're practically sharing breath.

Chekov nods mutely. His heart is blocking his throat.

"Show them," Sulu whispers. "Just kiss them. So there can be absolutely no mistake."


This is the best advice he's ever been given.


Because as soon as his lips touch Sulu's, he finds himself being spun around and pressed into the wall, Sulu's tongue trailing along the seam of his lips, sliding in to tangle with his own - hot and wet and hungry and perfect.

"Bedroom," Chekov finally manages to gasp. "Bedroom now, so I can take fully your advice, lieutenant Sulu, sir. You are wise indeed."

Sulu snorts out, hand curling around Chekov's as they almost run towards Sulu's quarters. "Wise? Yeah right." He shook his head, stopping still and looking at Chekov, letting out another laugh. "Did Kirk really give the best advice?"

Chekov opens his mouth.

"Except mine," Sulu adds, "but that's because I cheated."

Chekov grins. "Turns out the Captain gives good advice," he admits. "It is everyone else that is wrong."

Everyone, that is, except Sulu. But when he pushes Sulu back onto the bed and starts with the showing rather than the telling, he thinks Sulu probably gets that.
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