149Second story, the place where slash begins.
Summary: Pavel Chekov makes an unlikely friend at the academy. Kirk cockblocks.
Inspired by a request at the Kink meme: Kirk catches wind of their relationship and assumes that Cupcake must've bullied poor innocent Pavel Chekov into having a relationship with him. Actually, it turns out that Cupcake is the gentlest top ever and loves his little Russian very much.
"Come on," Greg says, gruff, when the kid just looks at him and doesn't move from where he fell. "Infirmary's pretty close."
The kid – and he's a fucking kid, no doubt about that – stares at Greg's hand when he reaches out, but slowly lifts a trembling arm and lets Greg pull him to his feet. He winces and his arms fold over his stomach, and for a moment he just sways there.
Greg waits, looking around the grounds idly in case any asshole out there is paying to much attention. He's been in enough fights to know the kid'll either puke or faint or he'll stay on his feet, and he'll do it in the next minute or two. Greg can wait around.
"I thought..." The kid stays on his feet, even stumbles the few steps to where Greg's waiting. "...you were one of them."
Greg frowns down at him. "You mean one of Lepinski's pals?"
The kid nods shakily. He's got blood going down his lip and he brushes his fingertips over his mouth unsteadily.
Greg takes his arm – he stays on his feet, that's great, but he still looks ready to pass out. "Well. I'm not. I don't do that kind of shit."
"You get in fights..." The kid stumbles when Greg started leading him along towards the infirmary.
Russian kid, Greg remembers. Some kind of genius. He's like sixteen or something, and his English is lousy, and the kids around here all want to be The Special One, and can't fucking hack it when some child comes around stealing the glory.
Greg gets into fights, sure, but never against kids. Never out of jealousy because a sixteen-year-old keeps getting his name in the journals. Greg was never gonna be in any journals anyway.
Greg just smirks at the kid, but the smirk fades when he sees that smeared blood tracking down his chin. "I don't like it when big people pick on little people. It's bullshit."
The kid hesitates, his feet moving a little less evenly. "I can fight."
"Not when there's five of them and one of you. Especially when one of you is like a half of one of them."
The kid's eyes come up, stubborn and proud, and Greg smiles but it's not mean or anything. He isn't laughing at the kid. He probably could've fought one or two of them, for a while. That hot chick at the bar a couple years back could've probably fended off that bitch Kirk when he was drunk and slobbering all over her.
But Greg isn't the type to wait around and find out. You don't hit on a woman after she's already said no. You don't beat up some kid just for being a kid.
The kid studies him. His eyes are real bright, green and kind of blue when the sun hits him right. He meets Greg's eyes and that pride relaxes after a sec, and he smiles painfully around his swelling lip.
"You are training for security?" he asks.
Greg nods. "Yeah."
"You will be very good at your job."
Greg's feet stop moving. He looks down at the kid. He's young, and Russian, and smart, and Greg's used to being around big tough jocks, like Greg.
But he smiles and it feels strange on his face, 'cause no one ever told him before that that he was good at anything. Not once.
"Jesus Christ! Chekov, is that you?"
Greg whips his gaze around fast, still a little on edge from shouting at Lepinski and pushing around his dumb-ass friends until they left the kid alone.
He gets tense. Speak of the fucking devil.
Jim Kirk's running up, followed by that sour-faced pal of his from Medical. He runs right up to the kid and practically tears him out of Greg's grasp, checking him over like he's the kid's mom or something.
"Shit, kid, not again. Bones?"
"Yeah." The Medical guy gets right up into the kid's space, checking out his eyes and probing at that cut on his mouth.
Kirk turns suddenly and glowers at Greg. "What the fuck did you do, cupcake?"
Greg's hands curl into fists, but he doesn't want to punch this guy out in front of the kid. "I didn't do anything, Kirk. Butt out."
"Jim, we oughtta get him to the infirmary. Looks like he took a couple of hits to the head."
Before Greg can argue – that's where he was taking the kid already, and what the fuck business is it of theirs – the Med guy's got his arm around the kid and is leading him away fast.
Greg doesn't stop them, because even though the Med guy talks like an asshole he's real gentle with the kid. And he's Medical, so.
Kirk glowers at Greg even as he takes a few steps backwards to follow them. "You stay away from him, asshole. And tell your bully friends to keep away. He's a fucking kid, man."
Greg glares right back at him but stands there, annoyed and a little...not hurt, because he's not a fucking woman, but something that makes him feel like shit.
Until Kirk catches up to the other two, and the kid – Chekov, Greg tells himself – looks over Kirk's shoulder back at Greg, and mouths 'thank you' really clearly, kind of smiling as he says it.
Greg grins.
He's surprised to see the kid again, running like someone's chasing him. No one is, though, and the kid's got sweats and a t-shirt on and runs like he's used to running.
He slows when he sees Greg, and smiles suddenly like he realizes who Greg is. He swings over, slowing to a jog and then a stop when he reaches the bench Greg is sitting on.
"Good morning!"
Greg grins, because yeah, it's a pretty good morning, and the kid – Chekov – looks a lot happier than last time.
"Hey," he says, smiling like a dumbass.
Chekov sits down beside Greg, hardly breathing hard even as fast as he was running. "You are far from the campus."
Greg shrugs. "So're you." He looks out at the waterfront. San Francisco is fucking pretty, though he'd never say that out loud to any of his meat-head friends. He likes the water, likes to sit and watch it sometimes when he needs to stop thinking about shit.
Chekov looks out where he's looking, and for a minute they don't speak.
Then Greg can't help himself. "So you're friends with Kirk, huh?"
"Kirk?" Chekov looks back at him. "Not friends. We were in a class together, last year." He smiles, small and crooked and a whole lot happier than last time Greg saw him. "Kirk is not friends with anyone but Cadet McCoy, I think. But he looks out for me. He thinks I am too young to be here."
"Yeah?" Well, hell, Greg isn't about to agree with anything that asshole thinks. "I don't think you're too young."
Chekov's small smile is suddenly bigger and brighter. "I don't think I am, either. I am doing well, when I am left alone."
Greg thinks about that, wondering if the kid's telling him to get lost. But no, doesn't make sense since it's the kid who came up to him.
Then he remembers Lepinski and understands. "Yeah, well, some people don't like to see anybody doing good."
"Not you, though?"
Greg shrugs. "I'm a big enough loser on my own, doesn't matter how well or how badly anyone else is doing."
Chekov frowns, and it changes his whole face. "You are not a loser. What kind of thing is that to say?"
Greg almost blushes. "Uh. I didn't mean...I just meant, people see you and get jealous because they'll never be able to top you. And I don't have to worry about topping anybody."
Chekov waves his hand like he's rejecting Greg's words. "I am top at physics. And running. I am obviously not top in security, or fighting."
Greg grins at that. "Even your pal Kirk couldn't have fought off all five of Lepinski's crew."
"But you can." Chekov smiles like he just aced some test. "So you are top at that."
Greg's grin gets bigger, and his cheeks get warmer, and even though he knows this kid doesn't really know anything about him, it's still kind of nice to hear something like that.
"I am Pavel," the kid says suddenly, sticking out his hand.
Pavel. Greg sounds that out in his head. Like Paul. Maybe it's Russian for Paul or something. Whatever, he likes it better than Chekov.
He shakes the kid's hand. "Greg."
Pavel doesn't let him go as fast as most guys would. "Thank you again, Greg. For your help."
And Greg hears his stupid mouth open and words come out, and he thinks even as he talks, I'm a fucking idiot. "There's a coffee place a few blocks down. Do you, uh...you wanna get some coffee?"
He doesn't feel like an idiot when Pavel beams at him and nods his head.
He doesn't feel like an idiot the whole time they sit around drinking coffee and sharing a bagel. They talk about the Academy, and they're in such different fields of study that it's like talking about two different places, and it's interesting.
Greg doesn't feel like an idiot until they're closer to the campus and Pavel realizes what time it is and runs ahead to get a shower before his first class, and suddenly Jim Kirk comes sauntering up to Greg and watching Pavel run like he's running away. Like he's trying to escape.
Kirk catches his arm and stares at him hard, and says, "I told you to leave that kid alone."
Greg only feels like an idiot because he doesn't really know what to say in answer, because he's a big idiot security guard and Pavel's this genius science guy and he knows Kirk would never believe they were talking like friends. 'Cause Greg hardly believes it himself.
Then he opens the door to his dorm one day and there's Pavel on the other side. He's got a bruise around his eye and his lip's busted again, and Greg can't help but feel this sudden kind of fury coming over him.
Pavel says, "Will you show me how to stop them?"
So Greg does what he can. He's a big dumb jock, sure, but he's top in his class when it comes to defensive combat, and he talks the prof into giving him the passcode to the gym so he can take Pavel down late in the evening when it's closed.
The floors are mats and the walls are mirrors, and Greg isn't good at much but he's surprisingly good at twisting what he knows to fit someone who's smaller than most every potential attacker.
He shows Pavel how to balance himself to move fast, how to use his attacker's moves against him. He shows Pavel how a guy as big as Greg has a thousand weaknesses 'cause of his size, and shows Pavel how useful speed is.
Pavel learns as fast as he learns anything. He's never gonna be able to take on five oversized shits at once, but towards the end of the term he's able to dart and lunge and evade well enough that Greg just can't get a punch in even when he really tries.
He's so fucking proud of Pavel by the end of term that he doesn't want to stop the lessons for the holidays.
"I am not going home," Pavel confesses when Greg mentions it. "My family can't afford it, and my papa has to work. He can't make time, so it's best to stay here so he doesn't feel guilty."
Greg says 'oh' and that's going to be the end of the conversation, but as Pavel heads out of the gym he speaks again fast. "I'm actually not going anywhere either."
Pavel stops and turns back. "Really?"
It's weird, 'cause it's the first time Greg's said anything about it out loud. Most people don't care where he's going for breaks.
So it's weird saying it, and it makes Greg a little nervous and a little upset like he was when he read his dad's letter that second year.
"My family...they don't really want me around anymore."
Pavel looks shocked. So shocked, actually, that Greg's upset feeling kind of starts fading. "Why not?"
Greg shrugs. "'Cause Starfleet's for liberal alien-loving fags, not real men. Because I should've joined the Army if I wanted to wear a uniform, and I should've agreed with my dad and my brothers all those times they said somebody was gonna go to hell or needed to get their asses kicked because they were different."
Pavel doesn't say anything, and Greg can't really look at him anymore so he doesn't know what his face looks like. It's stupid, this whole thing. It's fucking stupid to be so hurt that his dad hates him, when he hates his dad anyway. He doesn't even know why he's saying all this, except that nobody's ever asked before. Nobody ever cared.
He glares at the ground, his eyes hot and itchy. "My dad didn't raise his sons to be Fleeters or queers. So I must not be his son."
Pavel's feet are suddenly right there where Greg's looking, and Greg looks up enough to see Pavel's face.
Pavel looks at him almost like he's sad. He reaches out and puts his hand on Greg's cheek, real gentle, and it's the weirdest kind of touch Greg's ever felt. It makes Greg feel a little dizzy, just like that, and he doesn't want to pull away but he wishes he knew what was going on.
"Sometimes," Pavel says, and his voice is soft and low like they're sharing a secret, "I think I'm the only person in the world who's actually met you."
Greg's holding his breath and he doesn't know why. "What do you mean by that?"
"I listen to Kirk talk about you, or some of the professors. Or you, even, when you talk about yourself. And I don't recognize the person you talk about. Your father...did he ever even meet you? I don't understand it."
Greg starts to realize that the words are good, that it's a kind of compliment. He feels his mouth twitch upwards and he shrugs. "I guess you don't care about the stuff they care about?"
"I care," Pavel answers, his cheeks going pink. "Just not in the same way."
And then he leans up, all quick-like, and Greg feels something pushing up against his mouth. It's there and gone, just a split second of warmth and pressure.
Soon as he can figure out what it was Pavel's halfway across the gym making his escape.
Greg watches him go. He realizes his fingers are touching his mouth, and remembers when Pavel did something just like that the first time he met him. He smiles to himself.
Their last late-night at the gym before the break – before they can spend all kinds of time training and talking and whatever – the doors burst open right when Greg's got Pavel down on the mat, and fucking Jim Kirk and his medical buddy are suddenly piling in. Kirk's giggling like some drunk idiot who thinks he's breaking the rules, and the doc guy is mumbling like he's irritated even though he can't keep his hands off Kirk.
Then Kirk sees them – Pavel on his back, Greg over him, pinning his hands.
Greg's gonna get kicked out of the Academy, one fucking term before graduation. But Kirk can shout all he wants, Pavel's more than capable of explaining what was actually happening. In the end Pavel and Greg set up a demonstration of the lessons in front of Greg's SA and the head of the security department and a bunch of the staff there who were deliberating about kicking him out.
Pavel slams him around a few times, and Greg gives a couple of pointers because they said they wanted to see what the lessons were like, and that's what they were like.
Jim Kirk leaves for the holidays with the his best friend from Medical. He comes back probably expecting Greg to be history. Instead there's these fliers around for self-defense lessons for any cadets who don't have to take combat training in their class loads, and Greg's got a citation in his record.
Pavel says he's proud of him, and he comes to most of those classes usually to act as the small guy when Greg needs to demonstrate some techniques. Most of the people who sign up for lessons are girls, or skinny guys like Pavel. People who can't necessarily fight off bullies on their own, and Greg realizes teaching those people how to take on attackers is maybe the best thing he's ever done.
He's kind of shy about Pavel outside those classes, and he keeps thinking Pavel will laugh at him for it but Pavel never does. Pavel's just seventeen but he's got all this confidence about the things he wants to do. He's got all this confidence about Greg. But Greg doesn't have that. He's had a few drunk fumbles with farmgirls back home, and he had one fucking shitty experience getting drunk off his ass and getting fucked by some asshole civilian he met in a bar.
That's not a lot, and sometimes when he's talking to Pavel in Pavel's one-person palace of a dorm room, or sitting by him watching vids, or whatever, he thinks Pavel's waiting on him to do something that he just can't do.
He doesn't want to fuck Pavel, because he knows from memory that it fucking hurts. He'd let Pavel fuck him, though, since Greg's a big tough security guy and he can handle some pain. But how the fuck do you get that across in conversation?
In the end Pavel mentions to him that his close friends back in Russia call him 'Pasha', like a nickname or something. So Greg calls him Pasha because he figures that's what Pavel wants.
And just like that Pavel knocks him flat on his back on the hard little couch in his dorm room and they kiss like they're starving for it and Greg can't even think enough to worry about who's going to do what. There's no room on the couch so Greg stands up with Pavel fastened to him like he can't stop kissing him for a minute, and they end up back on Pavel's bed somehow.
Greg is on top of him and before he can worry about being too heavy Pavel clenches his arms around Greg and pulls him down closer, harder. Groaning like he gets off on Greg being so big.
Which is fucking fine with Greg, because he can sort of line up against Pavel and push into him and Pavel can push back and they don't even get their slacks undone when they get off the first time.
Nothing about it hurts.
Greg doesn't like to let Pavel out of his sight after that. Like Pavel belongs to him now in some way he can't shut off. He looks at Pavel and he thinks 'mine', and it's unbelievable. Sometimes he says it, when Pavel's on him, when they're under the sheets and grinding together, or on the couch with Greg's hand in Pavel's pants and Pavel gasping and writhing back into his chest.
Sometimes he whispers 'mine', and sometimes that's the thing that makes Pavel come.
If he doesn't know why a brilliant guy like Pavel is with a lunkhead like him, at least he's not dumb enough to ask. He just wants it to keep going as long as fucking possible.
Greg knows that just because Vulcan gets attacked during Kirk's little hearing thing doesn't mean it's Kirk's fault, necessarily, but it's still easy to blame Kirk when they're all running to get onto their assigned ships and he loses track of Pavel and wonders if it's for good.
Ray Lee was the closest thing to a friend Greg had at the Academy, besides Pavel the last year or so.
He met Ray first year, doing the same classes as Greg, looking to become Security together. Ray's the first Asian guy he ever really knew – isn't much cultural diversity on the farm where Greg grew up. But Ray's fucking cool. He's a big guy like Greg, doesn't have much family who still talked to him, like Greg.
He told Greg that first year that his parents were some kind of math geniuses, and everyone figured he'd been mixed up at the hospital and somewhere there was some big dumb couple raising up the skinny little math whiz he got mixed up with.
Greg knows something about that.
Anyway, Ray's real first name is like Raikuno or some shit, but everyone calls him Ray and he doesn't speak Korean around them like some of the foreign kids do. He's a fucking soldier, same as Greg, and they kick a lot of ass together the first few years.
Ray's his friend. First one he ever had.
Ray doesn't come back up with the away team. Kirk comes back, McCoy, Spock. Sulu comes back, which Greg's glad about for Pasha's sake. But Ray doesn't come back.
Porter, the head of security, gathers them all for the news, and throws together the usual bullshit memorial. Kirk comes by and says a few words about the sacrifices they're all willing to make and how it means so much and what the fuck ever.
Greg stays away from Pasha for a few days because he worries about going over there mad. Because Greg's dad would smack Greg's mom around when he was pissed off, and what if that's something genetic? Greg doesn't want to yell or hit or even be angry around Pavel, so he stays back for a while.
But Pavel finds him the observation room one evening. Staring down at the planet they're still orbiting, staring like he'd be able to see where Ray's remains are lying.
"I'm sorry," Pavel says, and Greg knows he is.
But Greg can't stop himself. "If it was you Kirk wouldn't have left."
Pasha comes up to him, like he isn't afraid even though Greg's so angry. "What?"
Greg stares out the viewscreen. "If it was you who died. Anybody on the fucking bridge crew. He wouldn't have left. Not until everyone responsible was dead or arrested. Not without your body."
"That isn't true!"
"Yeah. It is. We all fucking know it. Everybody in the department knows it. You wear a red shirt on Jim Kirk's ship, you better update your will every morning over coffee." Greg turns to him then, because he is mad but he doesn't think he's the kind of mad that'll hit. "It's our job, you know. Stepping in front and protecting everyone else. We don't fucking hesitate. But we know he'd fight for any of you, any of his alpha crew, harder than he ever fights for us. And sometimes that's hard."
"Greg." Pasha comes right up to him, not afraid at all, and puts his arms around him.
Greg feels himself go hot. His face, his eyes. He feels warmth on his face and plants his eyes in Pasha's shirt to hide it. "He was my friend," he says, muffled and high and uneven.
But Pasha understands. He doesn't shush him or tell him 'it's okay' like people do sometimes when it's clearly not fucking okay. He just holds on to him.
Until there's another voice from the door.
"That's what you think?"
Greg jumps, pulls away from Pasha to scrub at his face, and glares at the captain. He can't say anything, because it's the captain. He can't hate Kirk now that Kirk's his superior.
Kirk looks bothered, anyway, but hell if Greg knows why. Greg doesn't answer, just looks back at that planet like he could find Ray down there somehow and bring him back himself.
Pasha steps right up beside him and slips a hand around his waist, and next time Greg thinks to look over, Kirk's gone.
But they stay in orbit over that planet. Somehow Ray's body gets beamed up inside this ceremonial casket thing from the aliens, and Porter gets them all together to give them an update about a pack of criminals from the planet who've been arrested for the murder of a Starfleet Officer. Ray's murder.
Starfleet won't let them bring the killers up to the ship. Some kind of diplomatic rule that says the planet gets to keep them in their own jails.
But it's something.
Kirk's speeches at the next couple of memorials are different. When he talks about their sacrifices he seems to mean it. Maybe he always meant it, Greg doesn't know, but he doesn't doubt it anymore.
Greg doesn't have to work so hard not to hate Kirk whenever he sees him.
Then it's Greg's turn to be at the other end of a phaser on an away mission, and even though he's only burned in the arm and McCoy's down there when it happens and says he's gonna be fine, Pasha's still in the transporter room waiting when they all beam back.
Pasha doesn't even wait until everyone's gone before he throws himself at Greg and kisses him like he thought he'd never see him again. Greg can feel everybody staring but for a minute or two he doesn't give a shit. If Pasha doesn't care who knows about them than Greg sure as hell doesn't.
Kirk shows up after McCoy's chased Pasha out of the infirmary. He looks Greg up and down and asks McCoy how he's doing, and comes over to Greg once McCoy gives him the same might-need-some-therapy-for-nerve-damage-but-gonna-be-fine rap he gave Greg.
"Good job down there today, Lieutenant Harris."
Greg shrugs, and it hurts so he tells himself not to do that again.
"You know...Ensign Chekov has a lot of friends on this ship."
Greg stares at him. But yeah, he knows that. Everyone loves Pasha. It's hard not to.
Greg loves him.
Kirk goes on, his eyes strange and sharp on Greg. "There are a lot of people looking out for him. A lot of people who would get pretty pissed off if anything happened to him."
Greg frowns at him, because he knows all this shit already. He's first on the fucking list, after all.
Kirk seems like he's waiting for something. When Greg doesn't say anything he keeps going. "All I'm trying to say, cup...er. Lieutenant. Is that if someone was hurting Pavel in some way..."
"What?" Greg sits up fast. He plucks the sensors off his arm when the bed starts beeping. "Who the fuck is hurting Pasha? Why didn't he say anything?" He scowls as he fights the painkillers McCoy gave him, trying to stay upright.
Pasha hasn't been upset or anything lately. Maybe someone bothered him while Greg was on the planet? Maybe that's why he was right there when Greg got back.
Son of a bitch. Greg will kill them, whoever it fucking is. Nobody hurts Pasha, god damn it.
McCoy's suddenly there, stopping Greg with surprisingly strong hands when Greg tries to stand up.
"Whoa, Harris, the hell do you think you're going?"
"Get off me, doc." Damn it, fucking medicine. His head's fuzzy, but he can see Pasha in his mind clear as anything. He can see him that first time they met, sprawled on the ground with Matt Lepinski ready to put his boot in the kid's gut again.
Kirk doesn't get it. If someone is hurting Pasha it isn't something they have to sit around talking about. They have to find the fucker and kill the fucker and make sure Pasha is okay. Because he has to be okay. All the rest of it doesn't matter if he isn't okay...
He catches himself saying some of this shit out loud, slurring it almost. The ache in his neck doesn't register for another few seconds, and he realizes McCoy got him with a hypo when he was struggling.
Greg isn't much good after that. He sinks back on the bed and can't keep his eyes open, but he thinks he hears McCoy's voice all angry.
"What the hell did you do, Jim? For Christ's sake."
And he thinks he hears Kirk saying something about 'feeling him out' or something, and he thinks he hears an audible smack and Kirk saying 'ow!' and McCoy throwing him out on his ass. But maybe that's the medicine.
He hopes not.