The Incident in the Alleyway
Title: The Incident in the Alleyway
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters: Hikaru Sulu/Pavel Chekov
Rating: PG/PG-13
Word Count: 1658
A.N: Written for this prompt at the kink meme.
Warning: Attempted non-graphic noncon.
Summary: In which Sulu watches Chekov in an unstalkerlike manner, saves the day, and happily realizes that Chekov is kind of a sneaky little punk.



The Incident in the Alleyway

Ostensibly, they all went down to the bar to get drunk and pick up sexy aliens. Sulu nursed a couple beers and Chekov-watched.

It was actually kind of fun - like walking into a museum and sitting in front of a painting, just sitting and staring, finding all those subtle shadows and nuanced splashes of color that you missed if you just walked by. Just savoring and appreciating that, damn, that was one fine specimen of art.

In a completely unattached, unpossessive, and absolutely uncreepy sort of way, Sulu freely admitted (to himself, at least) that, damn, Chekov was one fine specimen of human male.

While Riley and Jenkins and Ensign Ricky downed shot after shot, Sulu stretched out in his booth and drew his thumb across the rim of his beer bottle. Chekov sat at the far end of the bar, sipping what looked like a coke and rum and talking animatedly with Ensign Valeris from Botany. From the looks of it, he was telling his 'How I saved a rubber ducky with my mini-transporter set when I was four' story again. Valeris certainly seemed to be enjoying it, laughing until she was red and gasping.

Which was perfectly cool. Chekov was free to flirt with anyone he wanted. And if he got a little grabby when he ground against Valeris on the dance floor, well, that was perfectly fine, too, if Valeris had no objections. Chekov was his own man, and Sulu had no place to say anything about Chekov's flirting habits. Quite the contrary: he applauded Chekov for strutting out there boldly and going for it, even if Valeris were six years older than him and about to be reassigned to the Reliant, a fact which Sulu was considering mentioning in Chekov's hearing. You know, so the kid wouldn't get too attached. It would probably adversely affect his performance - on the bridge, that is - if he got his heart broken suddenly, and the Klingons did have a habit of attacking when one of the senior bridge crew was indisposed.

Really, it was all for the sake of the ship.

So, for the good of the crew, Sulu watched Chekov and made sure the kid was in no danger of imminent heartbreak.

By now, he'd memorized Chekov's patterns of movement: there was the 'I am in a great big hurry please get out of my way or I will run you over' sprint, the 'I may still be experiencing growth spurts but please do not mention it when I trip over the floor' lurch, and the 'I am very drunk and love the whole, wide galaxy and all its peoples, and I must flail my arms to better demonstrate it' stumble. So Sulu knew something was wrong when, on getting up to dance again, Chekov stumbled, put one arm out and stared in awe at his fingers, and accidentally poked himself in the nose with his other hand.

Sulu almost went over to him, but Ensign Valeris, looking lovely in that short red uniform dress, suddenly appeared at Chekov's side and put her hand under his elbow. Chekov lowered his head a bit to listen to her and nodded, then started walking towards the exit with her arm around his waist.

Well, Sulu would never intrude on the course of true love (and, judging by the look on Chekov's face, the kid was going to be too occupied by puking to do anything hinky with Valeris anyway), so he stayed put.

And then the real Ensign Valeris walked in through the entrance at the front with her arm around Gaila's waist and wearing her short blue uniform dress, and Sulu swore and dropped his drink and ran, shoving his way through the crowd and bursting into the alley behind the bar.

There was no one in sight, and for one panicked moment, Sulu thought it was too late. But then he heard it – a low, scratchy voice muttering something unintelligibly, and Chekov's slurred but unmistakable 'Don' wanna' – emanating from one of the side streets a little way down.

Sulu ran down the alley and turned the corner, stopping in his tracks at the sight. Chekov was lying on his back in the middle of the muddy street, hands pinned over his head by the alien – it was humanoid, but barely, and covered in huge blue scales – that was ripping Chekov's shirt off with another of its several clawed hands. Chekov was protesting weakly and struggling, hands smacking sluggishly at the alien's arms and torso. The alien was strong, though, and a bulky seven feet tall, and Chekov was clearly under the influence of something nasty, because his arms were flailing, and he was muttering gibberish, and his punches kept flying wide.

Sulu stopped short for about half a minute. And then...

“Hey!” he yelled. “What the fuck d'you think you're doing?”

The alien looked up from Chekov and took one of its hands away from Chekov's crotch. This was good.

Sulu reached for his sword at his belt, and realized that he had left it back at the Enterprise with the rest of his stuff. This was bad.

And then the alien looked down at Chekov and licked its lips, and Sulu forgot all about good and bad, because this alien had messed with Chekov, and no lack of weapons was going to stop it from going down. Because Chekov, of course, was Sulu's colleague, whom Sulu respected and appreciated in a platonic fashion.

“I hunted him down,” the alien said. “He is my rightful prey.”

And in a completely unattached, unpossessive, and absolutely uncreepy sort of way, Sulu pulled his lips back into a feral grin and growled “The kid is mine, bitch.”

The alien snarled.

Sulu picked up a lead pipe lying handily in a nearby trash can.

Four minutes later, Sulu stepped over the unconscious alien's body and ran to Chekov's side.

The kid was pale and clammy, and his stomach jerked as he breathed in gasps of air.

“Sulu,” he whispered, lifting a hand and poking at the air near Sulu's nose. “Why are you turning into a spider? I liked you better when you were a ladybug.”

For a brief moment, Sulu debated whether going back and finishing the alien off would be worth leaving Chekov for a second (and a life sentence on a prison planet), but he decided against it. Instead, he took out his comm and called the one person who was not only more imaginative than Sulu when it came to torturing people, but who also adored Chekov and whom Kirk was scared enough of that there wouldn't be any brig time – or even an official citation – for something like this.

“Sulu to Lieutenant Uhura,” he said. “I think you should come down here. There's something you should see.”


Chekov fell asleep sometime during the trek back to the Enterprise, and he stayed out through McCoy's examination and the rest of the night.

Sulu sat at his bedside all night, and at four in the morning, he rested his head on Chekov's stomach for just a moment.

He woke up five hours later when Chekov poked his left eye.

“Lieutenant Chapel told me you rescued me,” Chekov said, grinning. “Thank you.”

Sulu blushed and gripped Chekov's hands tighter in his. And then he realized he was actually gripping Chekov's hand in his, and let go and blushed even harder and brushed his hand over his hair.

“It was nothing,” he said.

“You will not get in trouble for it?” Chekov asked. His forehead wrinkled a little.

Sulu thought of Kirk's face when he'd heard what had almost happened to Chekov, and then Sulu thought of the alien, who was currently stewing in the brig and would soon be cooling his heels (ha, ha) on JP4-298 (AKA Delta Vega Two) while Sulu and Uhura made inquiries as to whether he (she? It?) was wanted for crimes on any other planets.

Such inquiries sometimes took a while to make. You know. Like five, ten, forty years.

Sulu smiled. “Not at all. I'm just glad you're all right.”

For one second, Chekov almost smiled. And then he heaved a great big sigh and looked down and picked at the bedsheet. “But I am not all right.”

Sulu felt his heart leap into his throat.

“Ensign Valeris is transferring, and Lieutenant Uhura told me she was going to ask me on a date, but since she is leaving, she did not, so it is like she broke up with me before we even dated!”

And then Sulu's heart left his throat and settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

Chekov fluttered his eyelashes and sniffed quietly. “I must ask you for your help again.”

“Sure, anything,” Sulu said without thinking.

Chekov looked up. And smiled.

“I have seen the way you look at me,” he said. His eyes shone. “Pervert.”

Sulu's brain went numb for a minute, and he made a strangled noise at the back of his throat.

Chekov's grin widened.

“I have just been broken up with,” he said, and sat up and leaned forward until his face was centimeters away from Sulu's. “I will need – what do you call it – rebound sex? Or I will be heartbroken.”

Sulu choked. Chekov leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

“And then,” Chekov said, and kissed Sulu's nose, “I will need a new date, or the captain will try to 'set me up' with someone.”

Sulu grinned.

“And then,” Chekov said, and kissed Sulu's lips, “I will need a boyfriend, or I will be lonely.”

And in a completely attached and possessive but absolutely uncreepy sort of way, Sulu leaned forward and kissed him back.