Fic: Oskar and Gertude, A Love Story
Jun. 8th, 2009 10:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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singularityTitle: Oskar and Gertrude, A Love Story
Author:fringedwellerfic
Pairing: Chekov/Sulu, with a smidgen of Kirk/McCoy
Rating: This one is safe. PG-13 for kissing
Warning: Oh god, don't read if you're diabetic, this is pure sugar.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money is being made.
Summary: Follow up to The Bait, explaining how Oskar the fish got adopted. You can read this alone, but go and check out the other story!
Author's Notes: Dedicated to my dearly departed goldfish, Evil Daniel, who would suck up gravel and spit it at the side of the tank to get my attention as well as many other evil tricks. Rest in peace, you magnificant bastard.
Shore leave. Two words guaranteed to put a smile on the face of the most hardened of security chiefs. It was no wonder then that helmsman Hikaru Sulu was smiling as he made his way to the bridge for alpha shift that morning. It had been more than three months since he had set foot on any planet, moon, asteroid or random piece of space debris. He was ready for sun, and wind and air that hadn’t been recycled a hundred times. What made him even happier was that Chekov had been assigned the same shore leave slot he had.
It wasn’t a great surprise. It seemed that everyone on board knew how they had grown to be good friends over the last two years. Sulu had taken the rather eager and innocent young man under his wing; it was that or see him irredeemably corrupted by the captain’s influence. It was only natural that the officer in charge of keeping a track on the crew’s movements would schedule them together. Only four years separated them, so the faintly paternalistic ideas behind Sulu’s initial offers of holodeck time and fencing lessons quickly turned into a genuine friendship when he learned how much Chekov had to show him in return. Sulu was in good shape, but the punishing running sessions that Chekov put him through in the treadmill room gave him a good idea about his friend’s sheer stamina. Sulu knew how intelligent Chekov was; he was no intellectual slouch himself, top of his graduating class in astrosciences and advanced botany, thank you very much, but watching Chekov juggle equations was watching a true master at work. It was a humbling experience, and a surprisingly arousing one. Sulu kept that part to himself. Chekov had never seemed interested in men that way; Sulu had been present for both of Chekov’s relationships with pretty, petite blonde crewmembers. He had watched Chekov’s opening conversational gambits with a friendly wince, accepted the inevitable lack of time with his friend with equanimity and provided genuine alcohol for the post-relationship pity party. It never seemed the time to tell his friend how his mind turned him on, how his big blue eyes were the most beautiful Sulu had ever seen, how the curls he hated and kept short made Sulu want to run his fingers through softly, or grip tightly.
Sulu was a pragmatist. It was a crush. A silly, stupid crush that would no doubt run its course. Just let it be, pine from afar and get over it. The Enterprise needed two helmsmen that worked in perfect harmony to keep the ship flying smoothly. Confessing his attraction to his best friend, who had shown no interest in him or men in general, was just asking for trouble. His rational, logical, scientific brain told him this, and he was inclined to agree with it.
Of course, Chekov had never said that he didn’t like men, supplied the less helpful part of his brain. The part that thought volunteering for death-defying aerial drops was a good idea of impressing his new captain; the part that forced him to look very time Chekov bent to retrieve a dropped foil, or stripped off his sweaty running singlet.
Sulu didn’t like that part of his brain much.
The planet they were currently orbiting was one of several in this area of space that Starfleet used as R+R bases. Sulu planned to visit the temperate woodland zone, as Chekov had been babbling about fishing all week, but others preferred to ski at the planet’s poles or climb the tall cliffs in the arid desert regions. Maybe there were some interesting botanical specimens he could bring back for the lab, or his personal collection. Gertrude, his semi-sentient carnivorous Weeper plant, would like some company. She pined when he was away at the helm, and always greeted his return to quarters with a chirrup of affection. She purred at Chekov when he visited Sulu there, proving that the entire ship, plant life included, adored him.
His bridge shift seemed to take an age to pass, as the viewscreen showed nothing but the planet below. Everyone seemed to be impatient, except Commander Spock. Maybe he was impatient and was just burying it under his impressive Vulcan calm. Captain Kirk spent a lot of time talking to Chekov about fishing. He seemed to be planning something, but Sulu didn’t know what. He didn’t care to know, frankly, and wished Dr McCoy joy in finding out what it was. He hoped the captain didn’t invite himself along on their trip. He wanted the day, and Chekov, to himself.
Luckily, all the captain seemed to want was a pilot for the trip down to the planet. Chekov looked gratified to be asked to do the job, despite being fully qualified to land a shuttle on such an easy planet. It was only later when the captain arrived in the shuttle bay towing a rather green looking McCoy along that Sulu remembered about the doctor’s legendary fear of transporter travel. He also remembered the legendary story of the doctor throwing up all over the captain during the shuttle ride to the Academy. Sulu gave a quick look back over his shoulder into the inner compartment, but all he saw was the two men sitting closely together, the captain gripping the doctor’s hand tightly, murmuring words quietly into his ear. Sulu turned away, flushing slightly at witnessing such a tender moment. He envied the captain that relationship with the man who had best friend and lover. He shot a quick glance at Chekov who had missed the scene as he was intently studying the shuttle’s readouts.
Never mind.
The first mistake they made that day was walking downstream, not upstream. Upstream lay gently sloping sandy banks, perfect for laying on and snoozing in the warm sun. Downstream had nothing but sharp shale and river banks that had practically vertiginous edges. Upstream the water was crystal clear, slow moving and free of anything except clouds of darting silver fish. Downstream the water was fast and choppy, the fish practically non-existent and the river bed full of thick mud and nasty-looking river reeds. Boring reeds too, even for a botanist.
The second mistake Sulu made was believing that Chekov knew anything about fishing. Oh, he knew the theory, of course. And he had fished once or twice, half-heartedly, with a great-uncle on family holidays. But while Chekov had great memories of days spent in the sunshine with plenty of cold drinks and warm food packed by his doting grandmother, playing with numbers on his data pad while his uncle fished, he had very little practical experience with the realities of fishing. Like baiting the hooks.
“But they are worms, Hikaru!” Chekov screwed his nose up in disgust. Sulu fought against
finding that adorable, and failed. “I do not want to touch worms!” His accent mangled the sentence so beautifully that Sulu gave in and baited the hooks himself. It was not an experience he would care to repeat, and gave a feeble hope that the lines would stay silent all day so he wouldn’t have to push any more little wriggling bodies through the sharp silver hooks. The look of admiration sent his way for accomplishing this gruesome task almost made it worth it though.
The lines did stay silent. Chekov stretched out on the picnic blanket, his head down as he studied a pad full of the latest journals from Earth. Every so often, he would let out a frustrated “Hah!”, mutter under his breath in incomprehensible Russian and scribble something on the pad with his stylus. Sulu was left alone to wander in the woods near the riverbank, but he didn’t see any specimens that were good enough to warrant transport back to the ship. He was embarrassed to find that he had absentmindedly plucked a selection of the local wildflowers on his exploration. He abandoned them before re-emerging from the forest.
He had been sitting back with Chekov at the river bank for a good hour before one of the lines began to twitch violently.
“We have one! We have one!” cried Chekov jubilantly. He paused, and then said “Well? Land it!”
Sulu laughed. “I told you, Pavel. The closest I’ve come to fishing is an aquarium trip in high school. You’re the expert, you do it!”
Chekov’s face fell. “But Uncle Oskar, he always did that.“
“Well, now you’re doing it. Hurry up, it’s flapping.“
Chekov grabbed the pole from its stand, and began to clumsily spin the reel to pull in the struggling fish. It fought him all the way; Sulu found it necessary to stand behind Chekov, reach around him, cover Chekov’s hands with his own, brace the younger man’s body against his.
“It must be a monster!” Chekov called excitedly, panting with effort. Sulu bit his lip and tried not to let his mind go to the Bad Places it so often drifted into when Chekov got that pant in his breath.
With one final heave, the men pulled the angry fish from the water. They fell over in a heap, which would have had distinct romantic possibilities if Chekov hadn’t landed his elbow in a region vital to romantic possibilities. As Sulu manfully sucked back the girlish shriek that was on the verge of erupting, Chekov was staring in disbelief at the small silver fish flopping angrily on the riverbank. The cruel silver hook bit through the fish’s lip, and it was gamely trying to make it back to the water.
“Help me, Hikaru. It’s hurting!” Chekov actually looked panicked, and Sulu groaned.
“Of course it’s hurting, it’s drowning. Give it a minute and it’ll be fine.”
“In a minute it’ll be dead!”
Rolling his eyes, he bit back the stream of retorts that were leaping to mind. Chekov didn’t want to kill the fish, so the fish was going to survive. Sulu limped over to where the fish was flopping, knelt down and pulled the hook from its mouth. He threw the fish back into the water, where it immediately disappeared from view.
Both men stood looking first at the river, then at the mess of the rods and tackle. The bait tin had gone flying, and the worms were wriggling for safety in the grass. The rods were flung sideways, the lines tangled. The tackle box had been knocked over and its contents strewn on the ground. Chekov knelt to start picking up the bits and pieces.
“I am sorry, Hikaru, “ he said in the general direction of the ground. “You must think I am an idiot.”
Hikaru felt his annoyance subside. How could anyone stay angry at Pavel Chekov?
“Not an idiot,” Sulu said as he too knelt on the ground. “Too kind to see an animal in pain. That’s not stupid Pavel, that’s being a good person.”
They worked in silence for a few minutes, until Sulu could keep it in no longer.
“If you hate baiting hooks, and can’t reel in a fish, and don’t like to see them landed, why did you ask me to come fishing with you?”
A faint hint of a blush coloured the tops of Chekov’s ears, and spread across his cheeks. He spoke slowly, hesitantly.
“I remembered those holidays, with my family. The days seemed so long, so warm. I was happy there, on the riverbank. I wanted to have that happiness again. With you.”
There was a pregnant pause, and Sulu was a loss for what to say. The wistful longing in Chekov’s voice seemed to be offering more than friendship, but the younger man wasn’t making eye contact with him. He was staring out over the river, not looking back at Sulu.
Just as Sulu was formulating a response, he felt a sharp sting at the side of his neck.
“What the hell!” he exclaimed, just as Chekov clapped a hand to his neck and uttered what had to be a swear word. Two tiny river pebbles lay on the grass at their feet. They spun to face the water, and stared in disbelief as they saw a fish slowly sinking back under the water, an evil look glinting in his eye.
“Did that fish just spit at us?” asked Sulu, incredulously. “Spit rocks?”
“Pebbles, “Chekov corrected, a hint of a smile on his face. “Only little pebbles. It’s only fair; we put a hook through his mouth. ”
“So the fish has been plotting revenge? Unbelievable!”
Sulu glared at the empty river. The hesitantly romantic mood was gone. “Lunch?” he asked brusquely, heading for the picnic blanket.
They sat munching their sandwiches, Chekov absently breaking off parts of his and throwing them into the river. Every so often, a silver flash would appear, take the bread, and disappear again. As more bread arrived, the gap between appearing and disappearing lengthened. After an hour or so, the fish that they had caught and released was hovering by their section of the bank, and Chekov was laying on his front, trailing his hand down the steep bank side so the fish could tickle his fingertips by sucking at them.
Sulu watched as an entranced Chekov began to talk to the fish quietly. He could feel that pesky crush just getting bigger and bigger. Maybe it was time to listen to the other part of his brain. Sulu edged closer to Chekov, and lay down so he could feel the fish gently suck at his fingertips too.
“He likes you!” grinned Chekov happily, watching the fish taste each of Sulu’s fingers. “I think he’s forgiven us for trying to catch him.”
“He’s a fish, Pavel. He can’t forgive us.“
“He can plan revenge, but not forgive?” Chekov teased. “What luck we have, eh? Of all the fish in the river, we anger the evil one.”
He laughed uproariously at his own joke, and Sulu had no choice but to join him. The guffaws slowed to giggles, then sporadic hiccoughs of laughter. With the setting sun behind him, and the laughing twinkle still in his eyes, Chekov had never looked so gorgeous, so kissable. Throwing his last ounce of reserve to the wind, Sulu leant in and captured Chekov’s lips with his own. Although taken by surprise, Chekov was not slow in responding. He opened his mouth to Sulu, let their tongues dance for dominance, rolled his body closer and sunk a hand into Sulu’s thick, dark hair. They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, kissing, touching, caressing. Both men pulled their hands from the water to cling harder to each other.
Eventually, the need to breathe won out over the need to kiss, but Sulu retained his possessive arms around Chekov, who gripped him just as tightly. They leant their foreheads together, panted for breath and grinned like idiots.
“Wanted to do that for so long,” admitted Sulu.
“Me too,” breathed Chekov. “I only dated because I thought that you...” he trailed off . “Never mind. Not important now.”
“No,” agreed Sulu, flaring with a sudden jealousy and clutching him tighter, “It’s not important. Nothing is, except you.”
“Nothing,” agreed Chekov, a big smile lighting up his face, “except Oskar, of course.”
Sulu stiffened, and pulled away from Chekov.
“Oskar?” he spat out, a sudden fire building in his belly. “Who the hell is Oskar?”
Chekov sat up, puzzled at the sudden loss of his new favourite pillow. “My fish,” he said, pointing at the river. He blushed slightly, and added, “Our fish.”
The fire in Sulu’s belly extinguished under the liquid blue of Chekov’s eyes. He let out a sigh.
“Our fish,” he repeated. “Oskar?”
“After my uncle, “ Chekov explained proudly. “If not for him and those fishing holidays, I would never have brought you here. And we would never have...” he trailed off, and before he could get that anxious look back in his eyes Sulu leant in and kissed him again.
They broke away, and Sulu smiled. “Oskar it is. How are you planning on getting him home, though?”
Chekov pursed his lips as he thought, then promptly upturned the tackle box and removed the inserts. He began to lean over the side of the steep bank, to try and scoop a patiently waiting Oskar into it. Before Sulu could react Chekov leant too far, and disappeared over the edge with a massive splash. Sulu leapt up and raced to the shallower bank, but his haste to rescue Chekov made him slip on the sharp shale. He couldn’t hold in the shout of pain as the pointed rocks and shells tore through his uniform trousers, shredding the skin beneath.
“Hikaru? Hikaru!” came the panicked shout from Chekov, as he floundered towards the shallow bank. He was soaking wet and covered in river mud up to his knees and ankles, but he held the tackle box containing Oskar triumphantly. He put the box down on the shale and leant over Sulu to get a good look at his leg.
“It’s bad?”
“No,” Sulu managed to get out with gritted teeth, “just stings like hell. You ok?”
“I am fine. Wet, but fine. Like Oskar!”
The fish blew air bubbles at Sulu. Sulu gave it a glare of death as he accepted Chekov’s help in standing. He didn’t really need to drape himself quite so heavily on the younger man, but his pride was hurt, and his leg stung, and he seemed to have adopted a fish with his new boyfriend. He thought he deserved the draping.
They made their way slowly back to the shuttle. They would have got there quicker if they hadn’t kept stopping to grope and kiss each other quite so much, but neither man complained. Waiting at the shuttle were the captain and Dr McCoy, neither man able to conceal the glow of the recently sexually active. Sulu, limping, sore and wet from being plastered against Chekov wished them a particularly nasty venereal disease. The captain seemed amused by Sulu’s highly edited story, and generously gave them permission to keep Oskar, as long as biological science scans said he wasn’t dangerous. Sulu gave a fleeting thought about his leg and Chekov’s fall into the river, and wondered if the damn fish was evil after all.
On arriving back on the Enterprise he had to go to Sickbay to get properly patched up by Nurse Chapel who clucked at him and wasn’t particularly gentle. Leaving Sickbay he headed to his quarters to grab a change of clothes and say hello to Gertrude. Her large, pick petals waved in greeting and she purred her enjoyment as he watered her soil and stroked her leaves. She was carnivorous but could only manage tiny insects, kept in freeze dried pellets in the desk draw. He fed her a few choice pellets, then moved away to gather a few supplies for later that night. He wasn’t going to be pushy, he’d wait as long as Pavel needed to, but the way the other man had clung to him, sucked the breath from him, and rocked torturously slowly against him on the river bank made Sulu think that it was better to plan ahead. As soon as he neared the door, Gertrude let out an agonised wail. As soon as Sulu moved closer to her, she calmed down.
Sighing, he picked up her pot and took her with him. It was setting a bad precedent, but Sulu really wanted to be with Chekov right now and if it took lugging a two foot high pink plant around the ship to do it, so be it. Stupider things have been done in the name of love, most of them by the captain if you believed the rumours. Gertrude snuggled against him, cooing gently.
Chekov had given him the security code to his quarters long ago, but Sulu hesitated at using it now. What if he was changing out of his wet uniform? What if he walked in and Chekov was naked? Stunned at his own stupidity, he entered the code as quickly as he could. Sadly though, Chekov was already changed, his hair beginning to curl as it dried. He was sitting on the floor surrounded by Oskar in his tackle box, a large empty glass aquarium and several pieces of wood. There were various bolts and screws spread out in piles, and a set of pictorial instructions by Chekov’s side. He had already assembled the base unit and was puzzling out the side panels.
Chekov looked up and smiled at Sulu. “I have an IQ of 230, yet I still cannot understand these instructions. You can help?”
Sulu put Gertrude down next to Oskar, and settled next to Chekov.
“For a price,” he teased, “One kiss per panel.”
Chekov pulled him into a deep kiss. “Down payment," he said, nuzzling Sulu’s neck, “Rest on delivery.”
Neither man noticed how Gertrude uncurled one of her tendrils, and let it float on the water in the tackle box. Neither man noticed the way that Oskar tentatively nibbled at it, or heard Gertrude’s quiet coos of pleasure. They were too wrapped up in each other, and the problem at hand.
Between them, they puzzled out the bizarre instructions and put the base for the tank together quickly. The biological sciences department had given Chekov the right filtration system, some suitable gravel for the tank bottom and some de-ionized water to fill the tank with. One of the botanists had given him some suitable plants to anchor at the bottom of the tank. Once everything had settled in, they transferred Oskar over, and he swum briskly around his new environment, nosing at the gravel and pushing over the little ornament Chekov had replicated for him.
“I think he likes it!” said a delighted Chekov, wrapping his arms around Sulu’s waist.
Sulu eyed the fish warily. It regarded him back with a calculating eye. The eternal man versus fish fight for dominance was interrupted by Gertrude wailing from the floor. Chekov stooped to pick her up, but even his attention wasn’t enough to calm her down. It was only when he put her on the shelf above the new tank that she stopped wailing and extended one of her tendrils. Oskar quickly swam over and rubbed himself against it, shivering in fishy pleasure. Gertrude cooed again.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Sulu, amazed.
Chekov smiled. “They are in love,” he said quietly. “Like us?” He spoke hesitantly, and Sulu just had to dip his head down and kiss him again.
“Like us,” he agreed. He snuck another look at his besotted plant.
“I won’t be able to move her now,” he said with mock-regret. “Between you and the fish, she’s got two of her favourite people in the world here.”
“Ah,” said Chekov, catching on quickly. “Best you stay here too, then. Wouldn’t want you to pine away for Gertrude, all alone in your cold, lonely quarters...”
Anything else he would have said was muffled by Sulu’s eager mouth and hands. As the humans started shedding each other of clothes, words and inhibitions, the fish and the plant settled in together, rubbing and cooing harmoniously.
Later that night, Sulu quietly detached himself from Chekov’s sleeping body and padded over to the bathroom. He passed the tank, and found himself watching Oskar, who held him with a fishy glare.
“I’ll look after him,” he found himself whispering to the fish, “I promise.” Embarrassed, and hoping that Pavel really was asleep, he continued into the bathroom.
Oskar eyed him appraisingly. The bigger human had better be good to the smaller human, Oskar decided, or there would be gravel to contend with. Gertrude gave him a prod of warning, and he settled down. No need to upset the lady, who seemed to have a great deal of affection for the bigger man. Oskar narrowed his eyes, and began to wait.
Author:
fringedwellerficPairing: Chekov/Sulu, with a smidgen of Kirk/McCoy
Rating: This one is safe. PG-13 for kissing
Warning: Oh god, don't read if you're diabetic, this is pure sugar.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money is being made.
Summary: Follow up to The Bait, explaining how Oskar the fish got adopted. You can read this alone, but go and check out the other story!
Author's Notes: Dedicated to my dearly departed goldfish, Evil Daniel, who would suck up gravel and spit it at the side of the tank to get my attention as well as many other evil tricks. Rest in peace, you magnificant bastard.
Shore leave. Two words guaranteed to put a smile on the face of the most hardened of security chiefs. It was no wonder then that helmsman Hikaru Sulu was smiling as he made his way to the bridge for alpha shift that morning. It had been more than three months since he had set foot on any planet, moon, asteroid or random piece of space debris. He was ready for sun, and wind and air that hadn’t been recycled a hundred times. What made him even happier was that Chekov had been assigned the same shore leave slot he had.
It wasn’t a great surprise. It seemed that everyone on board knew how they had grown to be good friends over the last two years. Sulu had taken the rather eager and innocent young man under his wing; it was that or see him irredeemably corrupted by the captain’s influence. It was only natural that the officer in charge of keeping a track on the crew’s movements would schedule them together. Only four years separated them, so the faintly paternalistic ideas behind Sulu’s initial offers of holodeck time and fencing lessons quickly turned into a genuine friendship when he learned how much Chekov had to show him in return. Sulu was in good shape, but the punishing running sessions that Chekov put him through in the treadmill room gave him a good idea about his friend’s sheer stamina. Sulu knew how intelligent Chekov was; he was no intellectual slouch himself, top of his graduating class in astrosciences and advanced botany, thank you very much, but watching Chekov juggle equations was watching a true master at work. It was a humbling experience, and a surprisingly arousing one. Sulu kept that part to himself. Chekov had never seemed interested in men that way; Sulu had been present for both of Chekov’s relationships with pretty, petite blonde crewmembers. He had watched Chekov’s opening conversational gambits with a friendly wince, accepted the inevitable lack of time with his friend with equanimity and provided genuine alcohol for the post-relationship pity party. It never seemed the time to tell his friend how his mind turned him on, how his big blue eyes were the most beautiful Sulu had ever seen, how the curls he hated and kept short made Sulu want to run his fingers through softly, or grip tightly.
Sulu was a pragmatist. It was a crush. A silly, stupid crush that would no doubt run its course. Just let it be, pine from afar and get over it. The Enterprise needed two helmsmen that worked in perfect harmony to keep the ship flying smoothly. Confessing his attraction to his best friend, who had shown no interest in him or men in general, was just asking for trouble. His rational, logical, scientific brain told him this, and he was inclined to agree with it.
Of course, Chekov had never said that he didn’t like men, supplied the less helpful part of his brain. The part that thought volunteering for death-defying aerial drops was a good idea of impressing his new captain; the part that forced him to look very time Chekov bent to retrieve a dropped foil, or stripped off his sweaty running singlet.
Sulu didn’t like that part of his brain much.
The planet they were currently orbiting was one of several in this area of space that Starfleet used as R+R bases. Sulu planned to visit the temperate woodland zone, as Chekov had been babbling about fishing all week, but others preferred to ski at the planet’s poles or climb the tall cliffs in the arid desert regions. Maybe there were some interesting botanical specimens he could bring back for the lab, or his personal collection. Gertrude, his semi-sentient carnivorous Weeper plant, would like some company. She pined when he was away at the helm, and always greeted his return to quarters with a chirrup of affection. She purred at Chekov when he visited Sulu there, proving that the entire ship, plant life included, adored him.
His bridge shift seemed to take an age to pass, as the viewscreen showed nothing but the planet below. Everyone seemed to be impatient, except Commander Spock. Maybe he was impatient and was just burying it under his impressive Vulcan calm. Captain Kirk spent a lot of time talking to Chekov about fishing. He seemed to be planning something, but Sulu didn’t know what. He didn’t care to know, frankly, and wished Dr McCoy joy in finding out what it was. He hoped the captain didn’t invite himself along on their trip. He wanted the day, and Chekov, to himself.
Luckily, all the captain seemed to want was a pilot for the trip down to the planet. Chekov looked gratified to be asked to do the job, despite being fully qualified to land a shuttle on such an easy planet. It was only later when the captain arrived in the shuttle bay towing a rather green looking McCoy along that Sulu remembered about the doctor’s legendary fear of transporter travel. He also remembered the legendary story of the doctor throwing up all over the captain during the shuttle ride to the Academy. Sulu gave a quick look back over his shoulder into the inner compartment, but all he saw was the two men sitting closely together, the captain gripping the doctor’s hand tightly, murmuring words quietly into his ear. Sulu turned away, flushing slightly at witnessing such a tender moment. He envied the captain that relationship with the man who had best friend and lover. He shot a quick glance at Chekov who had missed the scene as he was intently studying the shuttle’s readouts.
Never mind.
The first mistake they made that day was walking downstream, not upstream. Upstream lay gently sloping sandy banks, perfect for laying on and snoozing in the warm sun. Downstream had nothing but sharp shale and river banks that had practically vertiginous edges. Upstream the water was crystal clear, slow moving and free of anything except clouds of darting silver fish. Downstream the water was fast and choppy, the fish practically non-existent and the river bed full of thick mud and nasty-looking river reeds. Boring reeds too, even for a botanist.
The second mistake Sulu made was believing that Chekov knew anything about fishing. Oh, he knew the theory, of course. And he had fished once or twice, half-heartedly, with a great-uncle on family holidays. But while Chekov had great memories of days spent in the sunshine with plenty of cold drinks and warm food packed by his doting grandmother, playing with numbers on his data pad while his uncle fished, he had very little practical experience with the realities of fishing. Like baiting the hooks.
“But they are worms, Hikaru!” Chekov screwed his nose up in disgust. Sulu fought against
finding that adorable, and failed. “I do not want to touch worms!” His accent mangled the sentence so beautifully that Sulu gave in and baited the hooks himself. It was not an experience he would care to repeat, and gave a feeble hope that the lines would stay silent all day so he wouldn’t have to push any more little wriggling bodies through the sharp silver hooks. The look of admiration sent his way for accomplishing this gruesome task almost made it worth it though.
The lines did stay silent. Chekov stretched out on the picnic blanket, his head down as he studied a pad full of the latest journals from Earth. Every so often, he would let out a frustrated “Hah!”, mutter under his breath in incomprehensible Russian and scribble something on the pad with his stylus. Sulu was left alone to wander in the woods near the riverbank, but he didn’t see any specimens that were good enough to warrant transport back to the ship. He was embarrassed to find that he had absentmindedly plucked a selection of the local wildflowers on his exploration. He abandoned them before re-emerging from the forest.
He had been sitting back with Chekov at the river bank for a good hour before one of the lines began to twitch violently.
“We have one! We have one!” cried Chekov jubilantly. He paused, and then said “Well? Land it!”
Sulu laughed. “I told you, Pavel. The closest I’ve come to fishing is an aquarium trip in high school. You’re the expert, you do it!”
Chekov’s face fell. “But Uncle Oskar, he always did that.“
“Well, now you’re doing it. Hurry up, it’s flapping.“
Chekov grabbed the pole from its stand, and began to clumsily spin the reel to pull in the struggling fish. It fought him all the way; Sulu found it necessary to stand behind Chekov, reach around him, cover Chekov’s hands with his own, brace the younger man’s body against his.
“It must be a monster!” Chekov called excitedly, panting with effort. Sulu bit his lip and tried not to let his mind go to the Bad Places it so often drifted into when Chekov got that pant in his breath.
With one final heave, the men pulled the angry fish from the water. They fell over in a heap, which would have had distinct romantic possibilities if Chekov hadn’t landed his elbow in a region vital to romantic possibilities. As Sulu manfully sucked back the girlish shriek that was on the verge of erupting, Chekov was staring in disbelief at the small silver fish flopping angrily on the riverbank. The cruel silver hook bit through the fish’s lip, and it was gamely trying to make it back to the water.
“Help me, Hikaru. It’s hurting!” Chekov actually looked panicked, and Sulu groaned.
“Of course it’s hurting, it’s drowning. Give it a minute and it’ll be fine.”
“In a minute it’ll be dead!”
Rolling his eyes, he bit back the stream of retorts that were leaping to mind. Chekov didn’t want to kill the fish, so the fish was going to survive. Sulu limped over to where the fish was flopping, knelt down and pulled the hook from its mouth. He threw the fish back into the water, where it immediately disappeared from view.
Both men stood looking first at the river, then at the mess of the rods and tackle. The bait tin had gone flying, and the worms were wriggling for safety in the grass. The rods were flung sideways, the lines tangled. The tackle box had been knocked over and its contents strewn on the ground. Chekov knelt to start picking up the bits and pieces.
“I am sorry, Hikaru, “ he said in the general direction of the ground. “You must think I am an idiot.”
Hikaru felt his annoyance subside. How could anyone stay angry at Pavel Chekov?
“Not an idiot,” Sulu said as he too knelt on the ground. “Too kind to see an animal in pain. That’s not stupid Pavel, that’s being a good person.”
They worked in silence for a few minutes, until Sulu could keep it in no longer.
“If you hate baiting hooks, and can’t reel in a fish, and don’t like to see them landed, why did you ask me to come fishing with you?”
A faint hint of a blush coloured the tops of Chekov’s ears, and spread across his cheeks. He spoke slowly, hesitantly.
“I remembered those holidays, with my family. The days seemed so long, so warm. I was happy there, on the riverbank. I wanted to have that happiness again. With you.”
There was a pregnant pause, and Sulu was a loss for what to say. The wistful longing in Chekov’s voice seemed to be offering more than friendship, but the younger man wasn’t making eye contact with him. He was staring out over the river, not looking back at Sulu.
Just as Sulu was formulating a response, he felt a sharp sting at the side of his neck.
“What the hell!” he exclaimed, just as Chekov clapped a hand to his neck and uttered what had to be a swear word. Two tiny river pebbles lay on the grass at their feet. They spun to face the water, and stared in disbelief as they saw a fish slowly sinking back under the water, an evil look glinting in his eye.
“Did that fish just spit at us?” asked Sulu, incredulously. “Spit rocks?”
“Pebbles, “Chekov corrected, a hint of a smile on his face. “Only little pebbles. It’s only fair; we put a hook through his mouth. ”
“So the fish has been plotting revenge? Unbelievable!”
Sulu glared at the empty river. The hesitantly romantic mood was gone. “Lunch?” he asked brusquely, heading for the picnic blanket.
They sat munching their sandwiches, Chekov absently breaking off parts of his and throwing them into the river. Every so often, a silver flash would appear, take the bread, and disappear again. As more bread arrived, the gap between appearing and disappearing lengthened. After an hour or so, the fish that they had caught and released was hovering by their section of the bank, and Chekov was laying on his front, trailing his hand down the steep bank side so the fish could tickle his fingertips by sucking at them.
Sulu watched as an entranced Chekov began to talk to the fish quietly. He could feel that pesky crush just getting bigger and bigger. Maybe it was time to listen to the other part of his brain. Sulu edged closer to Chekov, and lay down so he could feel the fish gently suck at his fingertips too.
“He likes you!” grinned Chekov happily, watching the fish taste each of Sulu’s fingers. “I think he’s forgiven us for trying to catch him.”
“He’s a fish, Pavel. He can’t forgive us.“
“He can plan revenge, but not forgive?” Chekov teased. “What luck we have, eh? Of all the fish in the river, we anger the evil one.”
He laughed uproariously at his own joke, and Sulu had no choice but to join him. The guffaws slowed to giggles, then sporadic hiccoughs of laughter. With the setting sun behind him, and the laughing twinkle still in his eyes, Chekov had never looked so gorgeous, so kissable. Throwing his last ounce of reserve to the wind, Sulu leant in and captured Chekov’s lips with his own. Although taken by surprise, Chekov was not slow in responding. He opened his mouth to Sulu, let their tongues dance for dominance, rolled his body closer and sunk a hand into Sulu’s thick, dark hair. They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, kissing, touching, caressing. Both men pulled their hands from the water to cling harder to each other.
Eventually, the need to breathe won out over the need to kiss, but Sulu retained his possessive arms around Chekov, who gripped him just as tightly. They leant their foreheads together, panted for breath and grinned like idiots.
“Wanted to do that for so long,” admitted Sulu.
“Me too,” breathed Chekov. “I only dated because I thought that you...” he trailed off . “Never mind. Not important now.”
“No,” agreed Sulu, flaring with a sudden jealousy and clutching him tighter, “It’s not important. Nothing is, except you.”
“Nothing,” agreed Chekov, a big smile lighting up his face, “except Oskar, of course.”
Sulu stiffened, and pulled away from Chekov.
“Oskar?” he spat out, a sudden fire building in his belly. “Who the hell is Oskar?”
Chekov sat up, puzzled at the sudden loss of his new favourite pillow. “My fish,” he said, pointing at the river. He blushed slightly, and added, “Our fish.”
The fire in Sulu’s belly extinguished under the liquid blue of Chekov’s eyes. He let out a sigh.
“Our fish,” he repeated. “Oskar?”
“After my uncle, “ Chekov explained proudly. “If not for him and those fishing holidays, I would never have brought you here. And we would never have...” he trailed off, and before he could get that anxious look back in his eyes Sulu leant in and kissed him again.
They broke away, and Sulu smiled. “Oskar it is. How are you planning on getting him home, though?”
Chekov pursed his lips as he thought, then promptly upturned the tackle box and removed the inserts. He began to lean over the side of the steep bank, to try and scoop a patiently waiting Oskar into it. Before Sulu could react Chekov leant too far, and disappeared over the edge with a massive splash. Sulu leapt up and raced to the shallower bank, but his haste to rescue Chekov made him slip on the sharp shale. He couldn’t hold in the shout of pain as the pointed rocks and shells tore through his uniform trousers, shredding the skin beneath.
“Hikaru? Hikaru!” came the panicked shout from Chekov, as he floundered towards the shallow bank. He was soaking wet and covered in river mud up to his knees and ankles, but he held the tackle box containing Oskar triumphantly. He put the box down on the shale and leant over Sulu to get a good look at his leg.
“It’s bad?”
“No,” Sulu managed to get out with gritted teeth, “just stings like hell. You ok?”
“I am fine. Wet, but fine. Like Oskar!”
The fish blew air bubbles at Sulu. Sulu gave it a glare of death as he accepted Chekov’s help in standing. He didn’t really need to drape himself quite so heavily on the younger man, but his pride was hurt, and his leg stung, and he seemed to have adopted a fish with his new boyfriend. He thought he deserved the draping.
They made their way slowly back to the shuttle. They would have got there quicker if they hadn’t kept stopping to grope and kiss each other quite so much, but neither man complained. Waiting at the shuttle were the captain and Dr McCoy, neither man able to conceal the glow of the recently sexually active. Sulu, limping, sore and wet from being plastered against Chekov wished them a particularly nasty venereal disease. The captain seemed amused by Sulu’s highly edited story, and generously gave them permission to keep Oskar, as long as biological science scans said he wasn’t dangerous. Sulu gave a fleeting thought about his leg and Chekov’s fall into the river, and wondered if the damn fish was evil after all.
On arriving back on the Enterprise he had to go to Sickbay to get properly patched up by Nurse Chapel who clucked at him and wasn’t particularly gentle. Leaving Sickbay he headed to his quarters to grab a change of clothes and say hello to Gertrude. Her large, pick petals waved in greeting and she purred her enjoyment as he watered her soil and stroked her leaves. She was carnivorous but could only manage tiny insects, kept in freeze dried pellets in the desk draw. He fed her a few choice pellets, then moved away to gather a few supplies for later that night. He wasn’t going to be pushy, he’d wait as long as Pavel needed to, but the way the other man had clung to him, sucked the breath from him, and rocked torturously slowly against him on the river bank made Sulu think that it was better to plan ahead. As soon as he neared the door, Gertrude let out an agonised wail. As soon as Sulu moved closer to her, she calmed down.
Sighing, he picked up her pot and took her with him. It was setting a bad precedent, but Sulu really wanted to be with Chekov right now and if it took lugging a two foot high pink plant around the ship to do it, so be it. Stupider things have been done in the name of love, most of them by the captain if you believed the rumours. Gertrude snuggled against him, cooing gently.
Chekov had given him the security code to his quarters long ago, but Sulu hesitated at using it now. What if he was changing out of his wet uniform? What if he walked in and Chekov was naked? Stunned at his own stupidity, he entered the code as quickly as he could. Sadly though, Chekov was already changed, his hair beginning to curl as it dried. He was sitting on the floor surrounded by Oskar in his tackle box, a large empty glass aquarium and several pieces of wood. There were various bolts and screws spread out in piles, and a set of pictorial instructions by Chekov’s side. He had already assembled the base unit and was puzzling out the side panels.
Chekov looked up and smiled at Sulu. “I have an IQ of 230, yet I still cannot understand these instructions. You can help?”
Sulu put Gertrude down next to Oskar, and settled next to Chekov.
“For a price,” he teased, “One kiss per panel.”
Chekov pulled him into a deep kiss. “Down payment," he said, nuzzling Sulu’s neck, “Rest on delivery.”
Neither man noticed how Gertrude uncurled one of her tendrils, and let it float on the water in the tackle box. Neither man noticed the way that Oskar tentatively nibbled at it, or heard Gertrude’s quiet coos of pleasure. They were too wrapped up in each other, and the problem at hand.
Between them, they puzzled out the bizarre instructions and put the base for the tank together quickly. The biological sciences department had given Chekov the right filtration system, some suitable gravel for the tank bottom and some de-ionized water to fill the tank with. One of the botanists had given him some suitable plants to anchor at the bottom of the tank. Once everything had settled in, they transferred Oskar over, and he swum briskly around his new environment, nosing at the gravel and pushing over the little ornament Chekov had replicated for him.
“I think he likes it!” said a delighted Chekov, wrapping his arms around Sulu’s waist.
Sulu eyed the fish warily. It regarded him back with a calculating eye. The eternal man versus fish fight for dominance was interrupted by Gertrude wailing from the floor. Chekov stooped to pick her up, but even his attention wasn’t enough to calm her down. It was only when he put her on the shelf above the new tank that she stopped wailing and extended one of her tendrils. Oskar quickly swam over and rubbed himself against it, shivering in fishy pleasure. Gertrude cooed again.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Sulu, amazed.
Chekov smiled. “They are in love,” he said quietly. “Like us?” He spoke hesitantly, and Sulu just had to dip his head down and kiss him again.
“Like us,” he agreed. He snuck another look at his besotted plant.
“I won’t be able to move her now,” he said with mock-regret. “Between you and the fish, she’s got two of her favourite people in the world here.”
“Ah,” said Chekov, catching on quickly. “Best you stay here too, then. Wouldn’t want you to pine away for Gertrude, all alone in your cold, lonely quarters...”
Anything else he would have said was muffled by Sulu’s eager mouth and hands. As the humans started shedding each other of clothes, words and inhibitions, the fish and the plant settled in together, rubbing and cooing harmoniously.
Later that night, Sulu quietly detached himself from Chekov’s sleeping body and padded over to the bathroom. He passed the tank, and found himself watching Oskar, who held him with a fishy glare.
“I’ll look after him,” he found himself whispering to the fish, “I promise.” Embarrassed, and hoping that Pavel really was asleep, he continued into the bathroom.
Oskar eyed him appraisingly. The bigger human had better be good to the smaller human, Oskar decided, or there would be gravel to contend with. Gertrude gave him a prod of warning, and he settled down. No need to upset the lady, who seemed to have a great deal of affection for the bigger man. Oskar narrowed his eyes, and began to wait.