#chekov x reader

“Yes, thank you so much for explaining my job to me,” you said through a forced smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you really must be going.” 

“I must be going? Is it not-” Chekov started. 

“No, you must be going.” You stood in front of the sickbay doors so they slid open. “Goodbye.” He opened his mouth to speak again but you had no intention of letting him and quickly repeated, “Goodbye.” 

Finally, he took the completely unsubtle hint and left through the doors. 

You let out a sigh of relief and let your muscles relax to the point of slouching. 

“That kid drives me nuts.” You crossed the near-silent sickbay to Bones' desk in a few strides. 

“‘Kid’,” he repeated with a half-laugh. “You’re practically the same age.” 

“Maybe he should act a little more like it.” You dropped into a chair across from him and stretched out a kink in your neck. A knot started to form anytime you had to deal with a bright, shiny cadet or ensign. It formed twice as fast when that bright, shiny ensign was Chekov. He was hyper and chatty and over eager. It made your muscles tighten. You were sure that it was all an act to cover up his true self. A self you had convinced yourself you saw peaking out on the edges when the two of you argued or when he got a little two confident.

“He does act like it.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You act like a 75-year-old cynic who's been hardened by a lifetime of troubles,” he informed you, barely glancing up from his computer. 

“That’s why you love me.” You leaned into the back of the chair, letting the sharp smell of antiseptic and tritanium sooth you after your long shift. 

“It could be good for you to spend time with people your own age. Maybe make some friends.” 

“You’re my friend.” 

He grabbed a PADD and scanned the information. “I’m your senior officer.” 

“Are you saying we’re not friends?” You picked up the PADD when he set it down, scanning it yourself. 

“I’m saying it would be beneficial for your emotional wellbeing for you to form bonds with other members of the crew whom you share cultural touchstones with.” 

You raised your eyes to his but they were still focused on his work. “And that’s Ensign Chekov?” 

“It could be.” 

You put the PADD back on his desk. “The only thing we share is a location.” 

“If you say so.” 

You watched him for a second longer, before letting out a sigh and going to prepare for your next scheduled appointment. 

His knowing look that followed you to a biobed made you want to press him, but something told you that was not a path of conversation you wanted to go down. You hoped by dropping the conversation, he wouldn’t push the issue, but that was naive and you knew it. All you were doing was biding your time. 

And you had less of it than you thought. 

A week later when you asked him what he wanted for lunch, Bones had informed you that you weren’t to eat in the sickbay. You didn’t have to go to the mess hall and socialize but he recommended it and was more likely to let you be if you did. The man was like a dog with a bone when he got it in his head that he was doing something good for his crew mates and you would do anything to get him off your back when he did. So reluctantly you went to the mess hall and grabbed a tray. 

You stood by the replicator, scanning the room and weighing your options. Taking a deep breath and gripping your tray a little tighter, you decided that if you were going to do this you might as well go all in and started moving towards the tables that a group of ensigns had pushed together. 

As you got closer, one of them quickly moved his bowl away from the empty seat to give you more room at the table. You gave him a grateful smile as you sat down. He graced you with a smile of his own before turning his attention back to the conversation. For a brief moment, you forgot why you ate with Bones or in your quarters. The crew was so kind and inviting. Then you realized what the conversation was about and you remembered.

“Did you really get to be part of the landing party to Markoddia?” an eager ensign asked.

“Yes,” Chekov answered from the end of the table. 

“What was it like?” 

Half the group leaned forward to better hear his retelling. He glanced up from his soup to check that he had their attention before starting. 

“It was a standard assignment.” A few people leaned back in disappointment and the corner of his mouth tilted up. “Until it wasn’t.” 

He regaled them with the story that you were sure was at least partially exaggerated. Ensigns who got to work with the senior staff were treated like minor celebrities by certain members of the lower decks. Over the years Chekov had learned to love the attention and even occasionally, on slow weeks, play to it. His definition of a slow week was expanding and the mess hall was starting to become his own personal stage. 

You didn’t have much interest in the landing party play by plays when it didn’t have anything to do with your job or furthering medical knowledge. You had even less interest people twisting the truth so they could play the hero. 

“You were attacked by a Markoffian sea lizard?” someone gasped. 

“I could have died!” Chekov answered. 

“Not from that,” you scoffed into your food. You thought that the comment would have gone unheard in all the commotion of the mess hall but when you lifted your gaze you found a dozen pairs of eyes on you. “You barely had a scratch on you,” you clarified a little louder. 

“Maybe I fought them off.” 

“Or maybe they’re herbivores,” you countered. 

“Markaffian sea lizards are omnivores.” He pointed his spoon at you, clearly thinking he had got you. 

“Maybe they just don’t have a taste for show off navigators. I don’t know. I’m not an exozoologist. But I do know that you were not anywhere close to dying.”

“How would you know?” one of his peers asked. 

“I was in that landing party.” 

“On the other side of the city,” Chekov added. 

“Yeah, treating the President, who happened to have a sea lizard as a pet. His two year old daughter was hand feeding it insects.” You raised your brows at him. “Are you saying you were almost killed by the same thing that a toddler was playing with?” 

“What about the pollen from the carnivorous flowers?” he asked. “Even you said it was incredibly toxic.” 

“Okay, sure,” you conceded. “You were almost killed by some flowers. Is that what you want to hear?” 

“Yes.” 

You rolled your eyes and returned your attention to your lunch.

“My throat was closing up!” he started again, a dramatic hand clutching at his neck. “Neither I nor the Lieutenant could breath. I thought it was the end, but luckily the doctor here was quick at finding an anti-toxin.” 

There was a twinkle in his eyes as he looked at you. It seemed like he was throwing you a bone but it felt like he was dragging you into something you didn’t want to be a part of. 

***

“Bones, Stapes,” Kirk greeted as he entered the sickbay. “Slow day?” 

“Not at all,” you answered before turning to Bones and lowering your voice. “If I had known that this job came with a demeaning nickname I wouldn’t have taken it.” 

“It grows on you,” he responded in the same low volume.

“Like a cyst?” You glanced up at him. “That’s disgusting.” 

Bones shook his head and looked back at the captain. “What can we do for you, Jim?” 

“We received a distress call from a nearby planet.” He handed Bones a PADD and you leaned over to look at it with him. “Looks like they could use a doctor.” 

“Seems simple enough.” Bones handed the PADD to you. “(Y/L/N) will take this.” 

The captain turned to you. “Report to the transporter in fifteen, Doctor.” 

“Aye, Captain.” Your attention dropped to the PADD as he left. Anxiety bubbled up inside you, mixing with your excitement. “Are you sure?”

“You can treat Chamberlin virus in your sleep,” Bones said without looking at you. 

“You’ve never let me go with a landing party without an attending.”

“Do you want me to change my mind?”

“No!” You said quickly, starting to read the report to prepare yourself. You swallowed thickly and lowered your eyebrows when you got to the short list of officers that would be on this mission. Just two. 

Your head snapped back to Bones. “I want you to change your mind.” 

“Too late.” He handed you a medkit. “Have a safe trip.” 

You shot him a glare before giving him a reluctant “Aye, sir.” 

“Have fun.”

“Is that an order?” you asked. 

“No.” 

“Then I won’t.” You started towards the door. 

“I know. Just do your job,” he said after you.

“Of course, sir,” you said with an eye roll so strong you were sure he could hear it in your voice as you entered the hall. 

You never worried too much about maintaining a perfectly respectful attitude with Bones despite him being your CO. Your eye rolls and complaints and casual demeanor didn’t come from a place of disrespect, but a place of familiarity. It came from the comfort of looking into your mentor and seeing yourself reflected there. He had looked into the same mirror when you were in the academy and took you under his wing. He guided you through your time there and your time serving as a cadet on another ship. Your similarities to Bones had earned you a place on the Enterprise and the nickname Stapes. As the smallest bone in the body, the captain saw it as a natural progression from his original nickname for you, Little Bones. You saw it as silly and a little demeaning, not that you would say that to his face. 

You knew that the reflection of Bones’ cynical but driven personality that shined through you was why he pushed you out of your comfort zone. He didn’t just want you to be the best doctor you could be, but a better person than he could be. But that didn’t mean you didn’t occasionally fight against it. 

You wanted to fight against this, but you didn’t want to miss out on this opportunity even if it meant- 

The transporter doors opened to curly hair and bright eyes. 

-having to work with him.

“Where is Doctor McCoy?” Chekov asked. 

“Sickbay.” You stepped up on the transporter. “He’s not coming. I’m coming.” 

You had hoped that arriving five minutes early would make you the first to arrive. You wanted some time to prepare yourself, both for your partner for this assignment and for the assignment itself. You knew that Bones was right and you were ready for this, but you hadn’t fully convinced that insistent little voice in your head of that fact. But of course Chekov had to get here even earlier. He always had to out do you just a little bit. 

“Oh. Is this your first time on a solo mission?” he asked, joining you on the transporter. 

You adjusted your grip on your kit, watching the hands of the engineer at the terminal. “Yes.”

“Are you nervous?” 

You snapped your attention up to him. “Are you?” 

“I wasn’t.” There was that twinkle in his eyes. It was like he was playing a game you didn’t have the rule book for. 

You narrowed your eyes but decided to let the slight slide. 

“Energize,” you ordered the chief at the controls. 

Within fifteen minutes of landing in the colony, you had set up a make-shift examination room in a small lab and had over a dozen people waiting to see you. You had quietly bickered with Chekov the whole while. Even your tones contradicted each other. His comments were bright and confident, mixing off-handed insults with what appeared to be genuine attempts at helpfulness. Your own words remained on the icy side of sarcasm, giving the impression that you were only partially tuned into your conversation with him. You just wanted to focus on your work. 

Thankfully when you started seeing patients he stopped talking to you. Unthankfully, he started talking to the waiting patients. At first, you figured your irritation over it was due solely to your usual level of pettiness when it came to him. You set equipment down louder than necessary when his voice got louder, causing him to look at you. He would give you a smile but wouldn’t miss a beat in the conversation. When you had finally managed to tune him out mostly, you overheard him explaining that this was your first time working alone so they needed to be extra patient with you. It was amazing the amount of condescension he could fit into innocuous phrases. 

You tried to grit your teeth and focus on your work but a few minutes later his laugh made something rise up inside you. You found yourself unable to focus. You must have read over the readings on your tricorder three times before you gave up. 

“Ensign, if you insist on being this loud, could you at least take the chit-chat elsewhere?” 

He smiled up at you from the seat next to a few patients. “Yes, unlike some people, I can be charming anywhere.”

“How special for you. Please take your charm into the hall.” 

He did as you asked and you were finally able to work in peace. Without Chekov constantly drawing your attention you were able to get through the rest of the patients fairly quickly. It wasn’t until after the last one left the lab that you realized how draining that had been. Bones was right, you could treat Chamberlin virus in your sleep, but the pressure of doing it alone was greater than you had expected and you had never treated this many patients in such a short time. They just kept coming. You must have seen most of the colony. 

You dropped into a chair, letting your head lull back and your eyes slip shut. Your feet ached from standing. Your face hurt from smiling. The mere thought of moving or talking to someone almost brought tears to your eyes. 

The door to the lab swished open and you jumped to your feet, praying you hadn’t missed someone. You were grateful to see that it was only the mayor and Chekov. 

“Doctor,” the mayor greeted, taking one of your hands in both of his. “Thank you. Your help means more than I could communicate.” 

You felt Chekov’s eyes on you while you mustered up what you hoped to be your last smile of the day, “Your people should be free of the virus now, but I have provided the updated vaccine recipe. Everyone who hasn’t been sick in the last nine days should receive it.” You handed him a PADD and he thanked you. 

The rest of the pleasantries washed over you. You knew you participated in them, but if you were asked to recount what you had said you wouldn’t be able to. For the first time, you were actually glad that Chekov was with you. He carried the weight of the conversation and handled correspondence with the ship. As much as you hated to admit it, he was charming. 

When you had made it back to the ship. You let out a sigh and took your time stepping off the pad and into the hall, but Chekov remained behind you. You stopped when you came to the lift, trying to decide if you should go back to sickbay or your quarters. 

“Good work down there,” Chekov said, stepping up beside you.

You eyed him for a moment, before responding, “Yeah, you too.” 

***

After your first solo mission it seemed to have been decided, much to your chagrin, that you and Chekov worked well together. After the third time you were paired up together in a single month, you stopped fighting it, but you still dragged your feet. Now, as your shuttle shook and the lights turned red, you wished you had fought it harder. 

“What’s happening?” you shouted, gripping on to your arm rests for dear life. 

“I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t-” A squealing sound interrupted Chekov’s panicked yelling. He scanned the readouts in front of him before looking over his shoulder at the source of the noise and then at you. “You need to fly.”

“What? I’m a doctor not a pilot! I haven’t flown anything since the academy and you want me to fly us out of planetary rings while we're being shot at? I’ll get us killed.” 

“How long has it been since you have done environmental engineering?” 

You blinked at him then turned to the control panel. “Okay, I’ll fly.” 

The shuttle rocked as you took over, causing Chekov to stumble on his way to the back. 

“Sorry!” you shouted.

Your hands trembled as you tried to remember the flight training you had done five years ago. It felt more like a dream than a memory and you couldn’t recall any of the specifics. 

As you got deeper into the rings the dust filled your view screen and you were forced to operate using the sensors alone. Sweat began to bead on your forehead and your stomach twisted from the jerky movements the craft made while you tried to dodge large chunks of ice and phaser cannon blasts from the assailant ship. Every sway and jolt made your thoughts swim and your heart hammer against your chest a little harder. Behind you Chekov let out a string of stressed noises. 

“What? What’s happening?” you asked without really wanting to know. The view screen started to clear as you flew through the last of the rings. 

“The shields are down and the nacelles are down and-” 

“We only have axillary engines?” You had to force yourself to keep your attention locked on the controls instead of swinging back to the ensign. 

The shuttle rocked again as it was hit. You gripped the terminal to keep yourself steady. The lights dimmed and everything came to a standstill. 

“No, we had axillary engines. Now we have nothing.” 

“Did you fix the environmental controls?” 

“Yes, but we can not fly out of here and emergency power is declining fast.” His anxiety was making his accent thicker and his words stick together.  

“I got us out of orbit, and,” you leaned forward, watching the other ship pass you by, “they seem to think we're dead in the water. They’re leaving. How much time do we have?” 

“Twenty hours.” 

You slumped down. “Not even a day.” 

“No.” 

Glancing over your shoulder, you found him bent over a tricorder. He started to bounce nervously. Watching him made you feel even queasier. 

“There’s nothing you can do?” 

He responded with a series of unintelligible Russian sounds as he started digging through the compartments of the shuttle. He must not have found what he was looking for because he dropped to the floor with a defeated huff. 

“No.” 

In all the assignments you had had with Chekov over the last several months he had only ever been stubbornly optimistic. Even when he was overcome with stress or complaining he still acted with a firm belief that what you were doing was important and you would make it out alive with a job well done. Not once had you seen him even consider giving up. You had not so secretly been waiting to see his optimism falter, to see what lay beneath his showy exuberance, but it wasn’t the slip of the mask or the peak behind the curtain you’d thought it would be. This defeat wasn’t revealing something about him, it was taking something from him. 

You got to your feet slowly, gripping the back of your seat and closing your eyes as a wave of dizziness passed over you. You didn’t do well in a shuttle on a good day. After being rocked around my phaser fire and ring debris and having to pilot yourself you weren’t sure your stomach would ever settle down. 

You were glad to see that Chekov was staring down at his tricorder and seemed completely unaware of your momentary weakness. 

“Come on. Where’s that trademark pep and sense of adventure?” You sat down on the bench next to him. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally met a mission you can’t glorify into heroic splendor.” 

He looked up at you through narrowed eyes. The corners of his mouth were drawn down further than you thought was possible. Was he actually about to start pouting? Was it actually endearing? 

“Aw.” You puffed out your lip in a pout that was both sympathetic and mocking of his. “What happened to Ensign Chekov, hopeful hero of the lower decks?” 

“He went down with the shields and the nacelles.” 

Rolling your eyes at his dramatics, you grabbed your medpack and pulled out your tricorder. You pointed it at him without bothering to actually look at the readings. 

“Huh,” you said in faux contemplation. “This says that he’s still operational, he's just offline.”

He looked up at you. The twinkle in his eye was starting to return, clearly delighted that you of all people were willing to play this game. “How do you suggest we bring him back online, Doctor?” 

“Oh these things tend to work themselves out.” You replaced your tricorder and leaned back. “When would we be back, if we hadn’t gotten in that chase?” 

He barely had to think about it. “Four to five hours.” 

“How long does it normally take them to suspect a mission has gone awry?”

Chekov spent considerably more time with the majority of the senior staff. He knew their usual patterns. You spent most of your time with the Chief Medical Officer, who tended to assume a mission went awry the moment they left the ship. He was right more often than he was wrong. 

“Between two hours and one week.” 

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Can you narrow down that estimate for me?” 

“In this situation, I would suspect it would not take longer than a day.” 

You didn’t have a day. 

“Doctor McCoy usually pays more attention to missions that have medical staff on them. Something about not wanting us to die because he hates paperwork,” you told him. “And he almost always assumes the worst. That should bring your estimate down by a few hours.” 

The navigator suddenly jumped to his feet and sprinted to the controls. 

“If I could get a message to them, they might get here in time!” 

You rested your forearms on your knees both to steady yourself and to more easily watch him. “Are we close enough for that? I thought shuttles didn’t have subspace communication capabilities.” 

“They do not, but…” he faded off as he fiddled with the screen. His movements had regained that jerky, impatient quality they often had, like his hands couldn’t move fast enough to keep up with his brain. He let out a triumphant sound and spun to face you. 

“If I send out a distress beacon and put all remaining power into transmitting a signal they could find us faster. If I divert all emergency power not needed to keep us alive, I could keep it running for the full 20 hours and the beacon would increase our range by 35%!” He quickly dropped into the pilot's chair and got to work. 

You smiled despite yourself at his returning optimism and moved to the environmental controls he had been working on earlier. Most of the readings were all but nonsense to you, but you had a decent understanding of the most essential functions and an even better understanding of the math needed to calculate how much time you had left. 

“What are you doing?” Checkov turned in his chair.

You kept your eyes on the screen as you spoke, “Say we ran into some minor difficulties on the planet and/or the mission took longer to complete than we thought, then maybe it would take us another eight hours to get back to Enterprise.” 

“Okay,” he said hesitantly, trying to figure out where this was going.

“Given that this was a fairly straightforward assignment and we both have a reputation for working efficiently, those eight hours would already make the more observant members of the crew suspicious.” 

“If there is not another crisis happening on the ship.” 

“That is a major if, but we’re trying to be optimistic here.” 

“We are?” he asked in an almost teasing tone, just as surprised as you were that you were abandoning your cynical ways. 

“Yes.” You pulled up the oxygen output. “Dr. McCoy will definitely assume something had happened if I don’t show up for my shift tomorrow at 0800.” 

“That’s almost eighteen hours away. It would take them three hours to get here unless they’re at top speeds.” He seemed to remember that you were being optimistic and asked, “Could you sedate us?” 

“I could but then there would be no one to respond if we were hailed and no one to deal with the next crisis. Besides, we’d only use about 6% less oxygen, but we could survive with 20% less.” You started messing with oxygen controls. 

“That would give us four more hours.” 

“I could push it to 25% to give them even more wiggle room, but we would start experiencing symptoms of hypoxia.” 

“Will it kill us?” 

“No more than doing nothing will.” 

He made a noise and you turned to face him. “We’ll get sick. Headache, confusion, difficulty breathing, anxiety, tachycardia. But if they find us we’ll recover quickly. And if they don’t find us,” you lowered the oxygen output, “we’ll die either way.” 

“They’ll find us,” he assured you, before turning back to the terminal. “I wish there was more we could do than wait.” 

The temperature dropped quickly as the power that normally went into keeping the shuttle comfortable went to keeping the distress signal broadcasting. It wasn’t cold enough to cause any health risk but it would be soon enough. You wonder what would hit you first: hypothermia or hypoxia. 

You pulled open one of the storage compartments and grabbed two dark gray blankets. They were perfectly folded and soft to the touch. They probably hadn’t ever been used before. 

Chekov was watching you as you placed one blanket on the bench you had been sitting on and held the other out to him. 

“We do what we can to stay alive.” 

He took it and sat down on the other bench. You followed suit, wrapping yourself in your blanket, leaning your head back, and shutting your eyes against a fresh wave of nausea. 

“Doctor, are you okay?” 

Distantly it occurred to you that normally you would have responded to the question with brusk sarcasm or at the very least the truth forced through tight lips. But in that moment you didn’t feel the need to push him away or put on a brave face, and you told the truth freely. 

“Just a little nauseous from the flight. It’ll pass.” It was already starting to pass now that things were calming down. The waves were gentler and no longer crashed down on top of you.

“You get space sickness?”

You peaked your eyes open at him. “Yeah, why do you think I didn’t want to come on this mission?” 

He shrugged. “Because you don’t like me.” 

“I can have more than one reason.” You adjusted the blanket around your shoulder and shifted around on the seat a bit. The benches may have been designed to double as beds for long journeys, but that didn’t mean they were exactly comfortable. 

“You can.” Even though he fell silent, you could tell from his clipped tone that he was biting something back and history had taught you he wouldn’t for long. “But why do you hate me?” 

“I don’t hate you.” 

“You don’t like me.” 

“Not everyone’s gonna like you, Chekov.” 

“Yes, but why do you not?” 

“It’s not like you like me either.” 

This gave him pause. Just when you had thought he was dropping the subject he responded, “I do not dislike you.” 

“But you don’t like me.” 

Again he hesitated. “I did not.” 

You opened your eyes fully and sat up a little straighter. “Did?” 

“What?” 

The blanket slipped from one of your shoulders as you leaned towards him. “You said ‘did’. Past tense. Implying that now you do.” 

“You have grown on me.” 

“Like a cyst.” 

He considered that for a moment before shaking his head. “Like moss.” 

You looked away to try to conceal the smile you were struggling to fight back and a realization settled in your chest. It fell slow and heavy like snow piling up on a roof in the middle of winter. 

You couldn’t have beared being stuck in this shuttle alone. You would have died trying to get off world. Even if you hadn’t, this quiet waiting with nothing to do would have driven you insane. But sitting here, across from the man you had fought so hard to never share a space with, it was bearable. Everything was more bearable with Chekov. He was the otherside of a very high strung coin. You weren’t just growing on him, you were growing to rely on him. 

The temperature fell further and you shivered, pulling your feet up onto the bench to curl in on yourself more. 

“Are you cold?” 

The exasperated look that took over your expression couldn’t be helped. “Yes, Chekov, I’m cold.” You took in the blanket he had draped only across his lap and his comfortable posture. “How are you not?” 

“Russian winters are much colder than this.” 

You chuckled. By the end of your time serving aboard the Enterprise you would be able to write a history book on Russia just from the facts Checkov shared at any given opportunity. 

As long as that time didn’t end tonight. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the thought. You slipped sideways down the wall until your head hit the bench, but you kept your eyes on him the whole way down. 

“Tell me about it.” 

His grin was brighter than the stars outside and took over his whole face, scrunching up his cheeks and eyes. He launched into a story from his youth that rolled easily into another. His descriptions made the Russian winter sound like a magical fairy land. Again you were sure it was exaggerated. You knew how many people had died from that cold. You knew that it was a dangerous and vicious winter. But you didn’t care anymore. You let yourself enjoy his version of reality. 

When he had to pause to catch his breath and cover himself more with the blanket, you took a turn at storytelling. Your voice was thin and breathless as you told him about the winters of your childhood and some of the nastier cases of frostbite you had treated. Your chest started to burn for more air and your fingers started to ache, growing stiff in the cold. 

The pauses between your stories became longer and longer and your voices morphed into barely audible murmurs until you started to drift into a restless sleep. You knew you shouldn’t sleep and kept trying to claw your way back to consciousness, but you kept sinking deeper and deeper. Until a choking sound came from the otherside of the shuttle. 

You sat up, trying to place your surroundings. The soft hum of the dying shuttle sounded so unfamiliar to you. The deep aching cold sinking into your bones and the harsh roughness that screamed in your throat and lungs every time you took a breath felt all encompassing. Your heart raised and your head pounded as you glanced around. 

Chekov slept across from you. You called out to him as a series of coughs and wheezes racked his body. His face was twisted with pain but he didn’t open his eyes. You wrapped your blanket tightly around yourself and moved to hover over him. Shaking his shoulder gently had no greater effect than calling his name. His coughing got worse and then it stopped. He went still. You shook him harder. His name turned to a wheeze in your mouth. His eyes fluttered but he couldn’t keep them open. You tried to force him into a seated position but he was a dead weight that your freezing arms struggled to manipulate. 

You dropped to your knees, brushing a hand against his face. It was so pale it looked almost gray. 

“Please, Chekov. Just take a breath. Just a small one.” Your hand dropped back to his shoulder and his hand found it. His purple lips parted to let in a shaky breath. It left him in a cough, but it was enough to give you hope. 

You pushed his shoulders up and wriggled underneath them. His eyebrows furrowed and you did your best to pull him up to rest against you. With his lungs more up right, he was able to take a few shallow breaths. 

“Good. That’s good. Just a little longer. Keep breathing a little longer.” You turned your head away from him as a coughing fit hit you. When your breathing evened out, you leaned your cheek against his curls. “The hero of the lower decks doesn’t die like this.” The sentence barely made it out of you before you were drifting off again. A pressure on your hand kept you from drifting entirely. 

“Stapes neither.” 

A smile tried to work its way onto your face. You had no idea he even knew the nickname. 

His hand fell from yours, but not all the way. The tips of his cold fingers remained on the side of your hand, holding you there with him. You would keep breathing as long as he did. It was a silent promise you made. Your old need to out do him mingling with a new need to stay with him. 

Sleep found you again, dragging you down to a quiet but panicked place. An insistent beeping filled your head, but the harder you tried to wake, to identify the noise, the tighter sleep’s grip on you became. 

You had no idea how much time had passed before its grip finally loosened and you swam your way back to consciousness. Your body no longer ached or burned. Your heart was calm, almost still. The panic had faded. For a brief moment you thought you weren’t waking up. You were dying and it was peaceful. But then you sucked in a breath. It was deep and cleansing and filled your lungs with ease and without pain. It smelled like that beautiful mixture of antiseptic and tritanium that meant you were home. You were safe. 

You bolted upright. 

“Chekov.” Your voice was rough and desperate. The bright light above you kept your eyes from adjusting. You looked around trying to find the golden uniform through the speckled static filling your vision. 

Then the light was pushed aside and Bones came into view. His warm hand landed on your shoulder. 

“He’s okay. He’s still asleep. The two a’you had a rough night.” He searched your face. “How are you feeling?” 

“What? I’m- I’m fine.” Your brain was working overtime trying to catch up to now while still piecing together the memories from the shuttle. “Are you sure he’s- because he was-” 

“Chekov is in perfect health,” he told you gently.

Relief filled you and passed through you in a sigh. Your shoulders slumped and you rested your arms on your legs. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until that moment. 

“Heard you were down right cuddlin’ the boy.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him as he stepped behind you to get a better look at the biobed readings. 

“I was keeping liquids from pooling in his throat and blocking his airways.” 

“I bet you were.” 

“I’m his doctor. It’s my job to keep him alive,” you pointed out.

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Never had to cuddle one of my patients.” 

“Well, I’m more hands on than you.” 

He stepped back so he was facing you again. “You did good, kid.” His hand fell to your shoulder again, squeezing softly like he was making sure you heard him. “I’m giving you a clean bill of health. Go get some rest.” 

You got to your feet and headed towards the door, but you only made it a few steps. Something held you back, rooting you to the spot. 

“Unless…” 

You looked to Bones. Your eyes felt raw with exhaustion, but you didn’t want to close them again. Not yet. 

“You want to stay until he wakes up.” 

“He is my patient. I should make sure he’s okay,” you told him. 

Bones just gave you one of his knowing smiles and pointed you towards Chekov’s bed. You followed his direction and found Chekov laying still in the corner. The blue tinge to his skin was gone, replaced with a slight roseiness. You watched his chest rise and fall, listened to the smoothness of his breathing, and resisted the urge to slip your hand into his. You wanted to touch him, to confirm that he was real and alive and safe, but instead you wrapped your arms around yourself and stood by the end of his bed. 

He moaned softly, turning over. His eyes opened slowly, looking out across the sickbay. 

“We made it. I am alive,” he said to himself like he needed to hear it outloud to be sure. 

“Yes,” you answered. 

He scrambled into a seated position at the sound of your voice. A smile lit up his face when he saw you. His right hand lifted off the bed for only a moment, reaching for you on instinct before his conscious thought took control of it again. 

“You are alive.” 

“It would appear so.” You walked to the head of the bed to check his vitals. You could feel his eyes on you as you tripled checked them, still trying to convince yourself that he was okay and wanting a reason to stay by his side for a moment longer.

“Do you still hate going on missions with me?” 

“Yes.” Your answer came quick, but it was followed by a smile. 

You turned to leave, satisfied that he was indeed in perfect health. He let out a breathy laugh and you stopped at the end of the bed and looked over your shoulder at him. 

Sharply inhaling, your eyes finally open. Petrified with fear, you stay stiff, unable to move any part of your body.

“Любимая (Beloved), it’s okay, I’m here.”

Finally blinking away the last effects of sleep, you see your partner’s face hovering above you. You realize he has arm wrapped around your torso, the other hand cupping your face. Gently Chekov strokes your cheek with his thumb, offering a small smile in an attempt to comfort you.

You breathe out slowly, finally feeling your body relax as you realize that everything you just went through was all only a nightmare. You blink away the last tears that linger in your eyes, trying to calm your body and mind.

“I’m sorry if I woke you.” You whisper.

Vehemently Chekov shakes his head, laying back down and pulling you close to his chest. “No, none of that, you don’t need to apologize.”

You nod in acceptance, relaxing into Chekov’s warmth and the safety you feel from your lover’s arms around you. You feel his chest rise and fall underneath your head, and you focus on that, grounding yourself as you match his breathing.

“Are you okay?” Chekov asks after a few moments of silence.”

Tilting your neck back to look at him, you nod again. “I’m okay, it was just a nightmare.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Your mind thinks back to the terrors you mentally went through; it had felt so real in the moment, but now it seems so impossible and distant as you relax in your bed with your partner.

“It was just…unsettling. I was lost—I lost you.”

You feel Chelov’s arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You nestle deeper into your lover’s hold, the comfort of your bed and his warmth and his arms bringing you peace again.

“Will you sing for me?”

You can feel Chekov smile and softly laugh at your request, but nevertheless you hear his gentle voice breaking through the stillness.

“Спи, младенец мой прекрасный, (Sleep, my beautiful good boy,)

Баюшки-баю. (Bayushki bayu)

Тихо смотрит месяц ясный (Quietly the moon is looking)

В колыбель твою. (Into your cradle)

Стану сказывать я сказки, ( I will tell you fairy tales)

Песенку спою; (And sing you little songs,)

Ты ж дремли, закрывши глазки, (But you must slumber, with your little eyes closed,)

Баюшки-баю. (Bayushki bayu)

As you drifted back off to sleep, you knew that with Chekov by your side, you were safe, loved, and would never be alone.

———————————————————————

a/n: if you want to hear a beautiful recording of the lullaby i used, check out this youtube video!

“Pavel!” you called back and the two of you were crashing into each other's arms. You’d been separated for a long time.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” you replied, pulling away and giving him a smile.

Someone clearing their throat caught your attention and you smiled at the man.

“Oh.” Pavel realised “This is Mr Scott, head of engineering.” 

You shook the man’s hand and he greeted you warmly. “Hi I’m Y/N. Pavels sister.”

“Y/N’s been heading the research into time travel.” Pavel blurted out and you felt your face get warm.

“I’d love to learn more. I’ve been following the progress.” Scotty admitted “However I need to get back to Engineering before Keenser blows something apart.”

You smiled “I’ll be sticking around for a while. I’m sure we can discuss it at some point.”

“I’ll catch you later.” 

You watched the man leave before speaking again “So when can I see my room?”

“I need to introduce you to others first!” before you could react his hand was around your wrist and he was dragging you through the corridors on the Enterprise. 

“Slow down.” you cautioned him.

“Doctor McCoy! Doctor McCoy!” he called down the corridor. The man in questioned turned around with a slight scowl on his face.

“What is it now?”

“Don’t be so grumpy Doctor.” Pavel tried to calm him “I would like you to meet my sister Y/N. She is heading the research and development of time travel technology within Starfleet.”

“Don’t you ever think that it’s going a bit too far?” the man questioned you with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing is too far” you laughed “it will allow certain personnel to go back and review history and collect information as needed. Of course it needs to be left to the people most trustworthy.”

“Don’t you think the collection of information could be detrimental in some cases? Have we not documented things thoroughly enough?”

“As of the past few decades and possibly centuries we have. However we’ve seen certain illnesses or diseases return from seemingly nowhere especially on new planets. Take this for example, we could travel back to the british middle ages and take samples of the plague and study them properly in the future. Then if we come across something similar we have a base line and possible more effective cures. This isn’t a great need for planets like Earth but new planets we come across.” you paused briefly “Similar to how we meet planets that still have the common cold. We give them our cures and vaccinations to help out. Just because these thing don’t affect us anymore doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect others.”

“You’re a red shirt speaking like a blue shirt… are you sure you’re in the right colour?” The man joked.

“Well my original education was in medicine but I excelled at physics and engineering. You know Pavel graduated early and … well I also fast tracked through.”

“Of course you did.” he rolled his eyes “Well it was lovely to meet you but I have patients to see too. I’ll see you both around.” the man spoke quickly before fleeing down the corridor. 

Pavel stood next to you beaming. “What?” you questioned the man with a smile.

“The Doctor likes you.”

“He practically just ran away.”

“He told a joke. He likes you.” the man grabbed your wrist again “Let's go meet the Captain.”

“Woah. Not yet.”

“Why not.” the man continued to drag you through the corridors.

“He might be busy.”

“He’s not busy or doing anything important. If he was the Doctor would be on the Bridge.”

“What?” you asked, puzzled by the mans words.

“Doctor McCoy is always on the bridge when the Captain is in fear he may do something stupid. Since the Doctor is not on the Bridge the Captain is probably free and not dealing with important matters. He’s probably bickering with Spock somewhere.”

You laughed “I’ve heard a lot about everyone but this makes the ship sound crazier.”

“That’s because it is” he admitted. “Captain Kirk! Captain!” 

You sighed and looked up to see the Captain walking towards you. You knew the man’s face, there was no way you couldn’t know it.

“This is my sister-”

“Y/N” Jim held out his hand to you.

“Yeah” Pavel said puzzled “How did you know?”

“I stay up to date with her research. Who do you think okayed her coming on board?”

“That did not cross my mind. I was just excited for her to meet everyone.”

“Hi” you spoke “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You two know each other?” he looked between the two of you.

“We’ve had some meetings together to discuss bringing my research and development onto the Enterprise.” you looked at your brother and raised an eyebrow “Did you think I was here for a vacation?”

His mouth was slightly agape “Yes I did. But if you’re staying longer that’s even better.” the man began to beam with a smile once again.

“I was going to tell you when I got here but you decided to take me on a wild ride around the ship.” you laughed.

“He’s just doing what big brother’s do best.” the Captain laughed. “Anyway it was nice to meet you and a bunch of us are grabbing drinks later you should join.” 

You agreed and the Captain re-admitted himself to the bridge.

“Do you have any vacation time?” Pavel questioned “I took a couple of days off to spend with you.” his eyes looked slightly sad about not being able to spend whole days together.

“I do. I don’t officially start work on the Enterprise for four days.”

“Excellent because there’s more people I want you to meet.” you smiled and rolled your eyes. Allowing your brother to lead the way.

Tag List: (open)

Star Trek AOS: @spaskaalekha @obiwansjedi

All Star Trek: @morganofthecoves1  @livenerdyandprosper @allthetrek​ @mrs-l-mccoy @huntheimpossible

I grimaced as sweat dripped down my face, and I tightened my grip on the wrench in my hands. Starfleet engineers had a whole host of high-tech tools at our disposal, but sometimes, the classic solution was the best one. My muscles strained as I worked to tighten the bolt in front of me, one of the only things keeping the ship from venting its hot air into engineering and frying us all.

I got the bolt to a point where it would hold, then ducked down from the catwalk to the computer below. I typed furiously, trying to route the excess heat from the engine through pipes tough enough to take it and eventually into space. The captain had called down with an impossible ask again, and again, we delivered. But we'd had to push the ship so hard she'd almost come apart, and now we were dealing with the consequences in engineering.

I managed to find half a route for my excess heat, but before I could finish saving the day, I heard noises coming from the bolt I'd just tightened. Even worse, it wasn't just more stress noises. It also sounded like a person.

I turned from the computer I was working on to look, and I saw a young yellow shirt leaning right over the steam pipe like a total idiot.

"Look out!" I yelled, diving for my wrench and sprinting for the guy. He gave me a curious look as I rushed towards him, but didn't move, so I shoved him in the chest to push him back a few steps as I popped back onto the catwalk with him. "Back up!"

He was too surprised to protest, so I whirled back around and refit the wrench to the bolt. I used all the strength I left had in my body to tighten it, but it just wasn't enough. I'd already used most of my strength trying to fix the rest of the ship. I felt the pipe starting to come apart.

Just when I was preparing to dive out of the way and deal with the consequences later, another pair of hands joined my own. The yellow shirt was back, helping me hold the ship together with pure strength of will.

"Vat is this going to do if it breaks?" he yelled over the groaning of metal.

"Long term? It's gonna seriously mess up this ship, to the point where it'll have to be drydocked for at least a month and a half to fix all the damage!"

"And immediately?"

"Immediately it'll kill us as soon as it gives."

"Wonderful!" he yelled back, focusing more of his strength into the wrench as he scowled. I looked back through the web of piping to the computer. If I could just reach it and finally vent all this heat... "You need to reach that?"

I looked up and the guy nodded to the computer.

"Yes! Badly!"

"Then go! I can hold it!"

I glanced down at his arms, which were already straining from trying to hold this with two people. I appreciated the spirit, but this kid did not look strong enough to hold this by himself.

Apparently, he could read my expression well enough to tell what I was thinking.

"I can hold it!" he insisted. "Maybe not for long, but I can hold it!"

I stared at him, trying to decide what to do. Our eyes met, and the determination I saw in them was enough to convince me. I sighed, grit my teeth, then spoke again.

"Alright, this is not going to be easy! I jut need you to buy me enough time to vent this steam somewhere else and release the pressure!"

"I can do zat!"

"Alright, then brace yourself!" I took one last second to steel my nerves, then let go of the wrench. I didn't waste a second before ducking down into the pipes and rushing to the computer, my fingers flying as I worked to complete the venting route I'd started.

I could hear the yellow shirt straining from the catwalk, but to his credit, he managed to hold it. I put all the focus I could muster into the task in front of me, and finally, I managed to find a way out for my excess steam.

I slammed the button to put the program into action, and the steam shot through the ship in a million different pathways before being released into space. I knew it worked when I heard the yellow shirt slam down onto the catwalk. Now that there was no resistance for him to push back against with the pipe, he fell like a domino to the deck.

I grinned at the sight of him between the pipes. Now that the immediate danger had passed, I could really appreciate how cute the guy in front of me was. And deceptively strong, apparently, since he'd held that thing on sheer force of will alone.

"Not bad," I called as I walked over to him, much calmer now that we weren't all in danger of dying. I held out a hand to help him up once I got to him, and he took it. "What's your name?"

"I'm Chekov," he said, dusting himself off. He dropped my hand once he realized he was still holding it, and a faint blush rose to his cheeks. "Ensign Pavel Chekov."

"Y/N Y/L/N," I said. "And if you don't mind me asking, Ensign Pavel Chekov... what the hell are you doing down here?"

"I've been curious about engineering, and with the ship finally out of danger, I thought I would come down and take a look," he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I suppose my timing wasn't as good as I thought it was."

"Eh, I feel like your timing was pretty good, considering you helped me keep engineering from blowing up," I said with a grin. "But if you want to know more about engineering, Pavel, then here's the number one rule: the ship is never out of danger just because the bridge crew thinks it's out of danger."

Pavel chuckled a little, that sheepish smile still on his face as he looked up at me again.

"Mister Scott always makes it sound so easy whenever the captain calls him."

My eyebrows shot up as I realized what his words meant.

"You're bridge crew?" He nodded. "Ha! That explains why you put your face right in front of a bolt two seconds from shooting off and putting a hole in your forehead."

Pavel's hand traveled up to brush over his forehead, and he paled as he seemed to realize for the first time just how close he'd come to dying.

"Hey," I said, shifting forward and trying to take his mind off it. "We're fine, both of us. Thanks to a little teamwork."

He met my eyes and nodded, and I could see his body relaxing. I smiled for the first time all day.

"You said you came down here to learn about engineering?" I asked.

"Yes. Zat's what I was hoping to do, at least."

"Well, you came to the right place. I can show you around, if you want. Saving the ship from an internal explosion was my task for the day, so I'm free to give you a private tour of the place. If you're interested."

Pavel's face broke into a grin.

"You'd really do zat for me?"

"Why not?" I said with a shrug, trying not to let on how quickly my heart was racing. "I don't mind spending a little more time with the person who helped me save the ship. Besides, we could use a member of the bridge crew who's not completely clueless to all the work we have going on down here."

****************

Pavel and I spent the rest of the day exploring engineering. I started with the more basic stuff, since I had no idea how he'd do with anything complicated, but he pretty easily understood everything I told him. Apparently he'd earned the reputation of Russian Whiz Kid at Starfleet, and he was definitely living up to it.

He came back down to visit me for the next few days in a row, and we quickly switched from engineering talk to casual conversation as I went through my tasks. I started looking forward to his visits, and I noticed my heart racing whenever I caught sight of his bright yellow shirt. Even when the captain had an insane, completely ridiculous ask for us, I still found myself in a good mood as soon as Pavel came down to apologize for the bridge crew.

The only real challenge came from Pavel just being unfamiliar with engineering. I'd been hoping that near-death experience with the pipe was a fluke, but he wasn't used to the place, so I regularly had to pull him out of the way or shift him a few steps right or left of where he was standing to keep him from getting whacked by some piece of machinery or other.

Still, I didn't mind. Especially when the danger passed and I got to be face to face with a red-faced Pavel Chekov, giving me an adorable sheepish grin.

"So, vat are you trying to fix?" asked Pavel, peeking over my shoulder as I read through the endless lines of data on one of the bigger machines in engineering.

"This thing's been draining more power than it should be..." I said, squinting at a few of the statistics in front of me. "We're going to find out why, and then we're going to make it better."

"Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"I will..." I flicked through a few more pages of readout, then talked to Pavel again without turning around. "Alright, remember these numbers for me... seventy-two percent, one-hundred eleven joules, eighty-two point six."

"I've got it," he said without hesitation.

I stared at the display for a few more seconds, then whirled around to go put the numbers I'd found to use. I moved quickly, and hadn't told Pavel what I was planning to do, so when I turned around I ran smack into his chest instead.

"Oh! Sorry," he said, blushing furiously as he tried to move out of my way.

"No, it's my fault. I'm sorry-"

I cut off as Pavel and I danced around, stepping into each other's way every time we tried to step around. I stopped after a second and smiled at Pavel, unable to hold back a laugh.

"We think too much alike," I said, meeting his gorgeous, adorable eyes.

"Apparently," he teased, his smile matching my own. Neither of us said anything else, and I couldn't help realizing how close we were standing.

"Pavel, I was thinking-"

"Y/N, would you like to-"

We spoke at the same time, both of us cutting off mid-sentence with nervous laughter. Pavel's face was practically on fire now, and I could see his blush spreading below the collar of his shirt.

"You go first," I said. He didn't look happy about it, but to his credit, he didn't protest.

"Y/N, I've been thinking... about how much fun it is to hang out with you, and how I look forward to being in engineering with you every day, and... vell, I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me."

He looked down at his feet when he asked, so he didn't see my smile spread from ear to ear.

"Pavel, I was about to ask you the same question," I said. His head snapped up and he looked at me with disbelief. When he realized I was serious, that shining light returned to his face, and he cautiously took my hands in his.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really."

Pavel just kept grinning at me, and he was so adorable I couldn't help leaning forward. I glanced down at his lips and kept closing the distance between us, slowly...

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

A hand slammed into my shoulder and shoved me backwards at the same time as my brain registered the angry Scottish yelling. I hit the floor and Pavel landed next to me, then a third thump sounded on my other side. I looked over to see Scottie on the ground with us, looking harried.

I glanced up and found a large I beam swinging over the catwalks, right where Pavel and I had been standing. If Scottie hadn't shoved us out of the way that thing would've clocked us both in the heads, and we would've been sent flying over the edge of the railing.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD DID YOU TWO THINK YOU WERE DOING?" bellowed Scottie as he struggled to his feet, glaring at the two of us now that the danger had passed. "You could've both been killed! I would expect that kind of thing from you, Chekov, but Y/N? I expected better!"

I grimaced as I got to my feet alongside Chekov. Scottie was right; I'd been working here long enough that it really was a big embarrassment to have missed something so obvious.

Although, I thought Chekov's gorgeous eyes and mouth made a pretty good excuse.

"Sorry, Scottie. I was... distracted," I said, my eyes sliding from my boss to the boy standing to my left. Thankfully, Scottie and I were pretty close, so I knew he wasn't really as mad as he seemed.

"My uncle James in Glasgow could see you were distracted!" he yelled. He sighed and shook his head, like he was just completely exhausted by the two of us. I couldn't keep a small smile off my face as I turned away from him and back to Chekov.

"So, engineering might not be the best place for our date..." I started.

"I completely agree," said Chekov, the grin back on his still beet-red face.

"I still have a few hours left of my shift, and I think Scottie might actually lose his mind if I asked to cut out early-" Scottie scoffed from behind me, so I knew I was spot on. "-but maybe you could meet me here after that? And we could go somewhere a little less... hazardous... for that date?"

"It's a deal!" He said, practically jumping up and down. He quickly leaned in and kissed my cheek, then turned and speed-walked out of engineering before Scottie could murder the two of us. I watched him until he disappeared out the door, the heat from his lips on my cheek still there.

"You have got it bad, haven't you?"

I turned to look at Scottie, who now had a shit-eating grin on his face.

"And for a bridge crew man no less," he teased. "You should be ashamed."

"You know, you technically count as bridge crew," I said, fixing him with the best glare I could muster. Scottie just waved me off, then started walking deeper into engineering.

"C'mon Y/N, you've got quite a few things left to do before you leave here for your date."

"Am I going to be hearing about this for the rest of my shift?" I whined, following after Scottie. He just laughed.

"Oh, Y/N," he finally said once the laughter died down. "You're going to be hearing about this for the rest of your life."

I groaned, looking at the ceiling and hoping for some magical strength to deal with Scottie. I knew he meant every word he'd just said, and that even if we were both in retirement sixty years from now he would still be calling me to remind me of the time I almost got killed by my own ship because I was distracted by a boy.