Title: Out for the Evening on Regulus V
Author: Joel Parthemore
Summary:.
Out for the Evening on Regulus V
Chekov stumbled on the uneven ground and nearly went down.
Sulu re-anchored Chekov's arm over his shoulder, gritted his teeth a little, and went on.
"Not to complain or anything, but I'd swear you must have put on twenty pounds in Regulan ale tonight."
"Now there's the problem sir. If they'd had Russian wodka I'd be fine. I -newer- get drunk on Russian wodka. But this local stuff, there's just something they add to it, I swear. They need someone to show them how the proper stuff is made. Sir."
"Quit talking so much and keep trying to walk...just one foot in front of the other. We're nearly there."
"So what did you think of those young misses? Quite the show they put on, eh, sir? I never knew you could do what, well, what they did with the golf balls. Most impressive. The aim they had...."
The music from the open door of the night club still carried to them across the breeze. It sounded like the band was playing something...Vulcan, of all unlikely things. Sulu shook his head to clear it.
"Is there something about alcohol that loosens your tongue? You've been going a parsec a minute all evening. I don't know about you, but I'm tired,
and all I want to do right now is crash."
"You want to run yourself into a wall? I wouldn't recommend that, sir. I think it would be most painful and have seweral unfortunate consequences. And what would I do, sir? I beg you to reconsider."
Sulu swore under his breath.
"And stop calling me 'sir'!"
"But you're my superior officer, sir. Wery superior, sir."
"I -know- that. And I don't constantly need to be reminded. So lay off it, okay?"
"Just wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea, sir."
Sulu stopped dead, causing Chekov to stumble again, and glared at him.
"Okay, okay. Not another peep from me. I'll be as quiet as a Russian newborn."
Sulu looked at Chekov and shook his head. But they walked on in silence, and gradually the music was replaced by whatever passed for crickets in this
place. The buildings were scattered here, and there were few lights. The stars overhead were crystalline sharp. Sulu made his way carefully, hoping
he had gotten the directions accurately. Chekov began singing some Russian song, softly, his voice rising every now and again on the chorus.
After some timeless interval they came to the inn, which consisted of a number of bungalows hidden among the "trees", looking like nothing so much as 50-foot-high ferns. Sulu found the office bungalow and roused the innkeeper, who handed him a keycard and directed him to one of the further bungalows.
"You can pay me in the morning. And no funny money Federation credits. I'll take local currency, gold, latinum. That's it. If you're here after 17 hours it's a full extra day, and no arguing."
Sulu just silently nodded his assent and dragged the willing Chekov along on their way.
The bungalow was basically one large room, with separate bath and a sauna in the yard. Furnishings were minimal: a desk; two chairs; two round beds in the Regulan fashion, with compressed air, held by a force field, in lieu of a mattress.
Sulu dropped Chekov onto one of the beds; he seemed to be snoring instantly. He washed up quickly, used the toilet, and headed for the remaining bed, adjusting the force field to a comfortable level. He kicked off his
boots but didn't bother with the rest of his clothes. Damn, he was tired.
The only sound was the persistence of the things that probably were not crickets.
"Sir?"
Chekov's voice broke Sulu out of his thoughts.
"What is it?"
Let's go hit the night clubs in the provincial capital, Chekov had said. We'll have a great time, Chekov had said. No point doing the capital like everyone else, Chekov had said.
"Why were you looking at me like that?"
"Looking at you like what? I wasn't looking at you."
"Yes you were, just now." Chekov's voice sounded petulant.
"I don't know. Maybe I was. I wasn't looking at anything in particular. I was just thinking. Go back to sleep Chekov."
A minute or two's silence, and Sulu thought that, yes, Chekov was asleep. But then:
"What were you thinking about?"
"Chekov."
"I just wanted to know, sir."
"I was thinking about what a wonderful weekend I've been having, okay? Now go to sleep before I come over and strangle you."
"Is that an order, sir?"
"Yes!" Sulu all but shouted. Then he turned over on his stomach and pulled the pillow over his head.
He dreamed he was back home, a child again but with all of his adult memories intact. It was his birthday, and his mother had prepared his favorite dish. But for some reason it smelled appallingly awful, like meat that's been left out too long in the sun. He tried to force it down anyway, because he knew how much effort his mother had put into making it. The whole family was at the table, and everyone seemed to be staring at him, beaming at him. It was all he could do to force the food down and keep a straight face. At some point soon, he knew, he was going to vomit it all back up again. Then somebody, somewhere, began calling: "Sir!"
Sulu became gradually aware of Chekov's voice as the dream slipped away from him. He swore under his breath to all the ancient gods and sat up in bed.
"What is it this time?"
"I can't sleep. And anyway, you were looking at me again."
"Chekov, I was asleep until you woke me up. How could I possibly have been looking at you?"
"I dunno sir. Maybe it's a little like sleepwalking."
"Chekov, what is your problem?"
"I dunno sir, I was maybe going to ask you the same thing. I saw the way you looked at me a few times in the club, when you thought I wasn't looking. You didn't look at any of the misses that way."
Sulu was silent.
"Not that there's anything wrong with that. But I was kinda wondering. Um, you -did- enjoy the show, didn't you?"
Wide awake now, Sulu shook his head and laughed.
"Not really, no. But I figured as long as you were enjoying yourself, what the hell. Not a complete waste of the weekend....You -did- enjoy the show, didn't you?"
"Not really." Chekov shrugged. "...I mean, I like girls," he hastened to add. "But these misses had too much makeup on. Not like the beautiful girls of Kiev or Almaty, not to mention St. Petersburg. They don't need any makeup at all!"
Bitter laugh. "Great. So we -both- had a miserable weekend, and now neither of us is getting any sleep. What a wonderful shore leave this is turning out to be."
But Chekov said nothing, and shortly thereafter he was gently snoring again.
Sulu was back on the bridge of the Enterprise; the captain was giving some orders, but Sulu couldn't hear him because of the loud buzzing in his ears. Sulu was kissing his friend Benny under the rain dripping from the pine branches overhead. Sulu was tending his exotic plant collection. Dream images chased one another and gave way to oblivion.
Sulu rolled over in bed and put an arm around the warm body curled up next to his. Then very rapidly he woke up.
"Chekov, what the hell are you doing?"
"Finding out whether you really were looking at me that way, sir."
"You don't seem very drunk any more."
"Fast recowery, sir. Sound Russian constitution."
Sulu glared at Chekov.
"This bed is way too soft. Must be torture on your back. How can you stand it? Here...." Chekov reached around and began massaging Sulu's shoulders. "You can feel how tight your muscles are. Be easier if you sat up. Also help if you took off your shirt."
"Chekov, get the hell out of my bed!"
"You brought me back here like a true gentleman. The least I can do is return the favor."
"Chekov...."
But Sulu never had a chance to say whatever he intended. Lips were pressed on his, and suddenly his mouth was much too full.
Pausing for a breath, Chekov said:
"I told you I liked the girls of Almaty. I never said I didn't like the boys, too. Ah Dmitri, where are you now?"
His hands had the shirt over Sulu's head now and were quickly burrowing into his back, exploring it like some map, tracing the lines of tension like so many intersecting roads: coming to a fork, choosing left or right.
"Ah. Ah! Ah....Hey, stop!" Sulu's body went rigid as Chekov plowed into one of the vertebrae. "That tickles!"
"Good sign then. Means your lymphatic fluid is breaking up. Muscles will be looser. But I think we need to get you out of the rest of these clothes. Your whole body is just so...tight. Like all the bolts on, what was vthat old Sowiet space station, Mir. But not to worry, sir. We'll have you right in no time. No burning up in the atmosphere for you."
His hands continued exploring, further and further down: poking, prodding, seizing, releasing, relaxing, learning.
"Oh man, this is wonderful. Where'd you learn to do this? Your hands are like magic."
"From my mother, the wonderful Vera Nuruibekova. She was professional masseuse in St. Petersburg. Wery well known. She always said that the way to a man's heart is through his muscles." Chekov's hands were scissoring now edge on into Sulu's back. "Compared to her I am but a poor apprentice."
"Remind me to meet your mother sometime."
Chekov took some oil now and massaged it gently into the loosened muscles."There. Starting to look much better. Space station will stay in orbit after all. You've got a nice body, with all that fencing you do. Just need to find a few more ways to...relax it when you're done working out."
"Are you making suggestions?"
"Oh no, sir!" Chekov sounded offended. "You are my superior officer. Strictly against the rules of fraternization. I wouldn't think of it....Of course, you -could- offer me some fencing lessons. Then, as an ensign, it would be wery appropriate for me to gratefully accept."
"Hmm. Just a little lower, please. You don't have such a bad body yourself, you know."
"Thanks. People always tell me that I have a nice...."
Sulu finally looked over and blinked hard.
"Damn, you're not kidding!...Not that the rest of you isn't nice, too."
"Thank you, sir. Cumulative effect of all those Russian winters."
"What -do- you do during those long Russian winters?"
"Wouldn't you like to know!"
But mouths were, once again, too full to continue the conversation.
...
For a long while afterwards, they lay quietly holding each other, listening to the night sounds. There was a new sound now: a bird with a low, haunting cry... like the loons of faraway Earth.
"So tell me sir, which members of the crew do you fancy?"
Sulu laughed. "No way. You tell me, first."
"Okay. But you're going to laugh."
"I promise I won't laugh."
"Well... no I would, it's just...."
"Chekov! Tell me! Whoever it is I'm not going to laugh."
"Is that an order, sir?"
"Yes!"
"You see, the thing is...."
"Is it Captain Kirk?"
Chekov gasped in shock. "Oh, -please-. He's so het he gives me goosebumps. I don't think he'd have the first clue what to do. 'But Mr. Chekov.' 'Yes Captain, sir.' 'Where do I put it?' 'I dunno sir. Try putting it here.'"
"Commander Scott?"
"Hardly. I don't go for married men."
"But he's not...."
"Sir. He's as married to his engines as the captain is to his ship."
"Lieutenant Uhura?"
"Wery classy lady, and if any lady has balls she does, but no."
"Dr. McCoy?"
"He'd just give me a lecture on safer sex till I fell asleep."
"Nurse Chapel?"
Chekov thought about it a moment and shook his head. "Niet."
Sulu stared at him in frustration. Then a light dawned in his face.
"It's not....It is, isn't it?!!"
Chekov nodded.
"Sorry, Chekov. Not too much chance of consummating that one, I'm afraid."
Chekov grinned sheepishly. "He's gotta have a Pon Farr again sometime, doesn't he? And with that wife of his out of the way...."
"Do your math. His next Pon Farr's not for another five years."
"I'm wery good at being patient. Sir."
"I'm glad one of us is. Hey, I'm feeling really tight again, right around here." Sulu took Chekov's hand and guided him.
"Are you sure?"
This time it was Sulu's turn to nod.
"I would be most honoured, sir."
...
Light from Regulus' two binary suns flooded into the room. The pounding at the door, gentle at first, grew increasingly urgent.
Finally the door opened and Yeoman Rand stepped into the room. With a quick glance over the room she took in the scattered clothes, the one empty bed and the one very much occupied bed with two very naked and very
intertwined bodies upon it.
With a gasp of shock she immediately turned to go.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize, I never would have..." she said with her back to the two figures now groaning and struggling to wake up. "I'll, uh, I'll just go now." Gently she started crying and went nowhere.
Sulu struggled to focus his eyes and find some suitable words.
"Yeoman... it's not what you think."
Chekov propped his head on Sulu's shoulder and grinned.
"Don't mind Mr. Sulu. He's just embarrassed because I'm in bed with a superior officer. Breaks lots of important rules. But you're not going to tell anybody, are you?"
"No, of course not." Rand started to turn to face Chekov and Sulu, thought better of it, and turned her back to them again, crying louder and looking more lost than ever.
Sulu: "Didn't anyone ever teach you to knock?"
"I did, for five minutes. There wasn't any answer. I thought...I didn't know what to think." The words started to tumble out in a rush. "The captain sent me down here because there wasn't anybody else available. Everybody's back on the ship, and we're ready to break orbit. We've been trying to reach you for hours on the communicators, but there wasn't any answer."
Sulu grabbed a look at the bedside chronometer and started pulling on clothes furiously. "Good grief, it's 15 hours already. But I never heard the communicator; I don't understand...Chekov?" Sulu glared at him with a dawning suspicion.
Chekov was dressing at a more leisurely pace. "I took the liberty of switching them off last night when we got in. Just in case anything happened, I didn't want to be disturbed."
"Why you...you bastard. You weren't drunk at all, were you?"
Chekov stuck out his tongue at Sulu and winked at Rand's back. "He's so cute when he gets angry, don't you think? And so much in command. You just watch: he's going to be captain of his own starship someday."
Five minutes later clothes were properly configured and the innkeeper paid. Sulu was still sullen and silent; Rand was crying again and muttering something about "mother never told me". So Chekov took the liberty of hailing the Enterprise.
"Three to beam up, Scotty...sorry, Commander Scott. Yes sir, we're fine sir. Everything's fine. We just...overslept a bit. You know how it is after a night on the town...well, okay, maybe you don't. Lieutenant Sulu? Oh yes, he's here, sir. Also very well sir. He's just a little under the weather at the moment."
Then, before Sulu had any chance to react, Chekov grabbed hold of him in a warm embrace from behind as the transporter beam took hold.
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