300 Words: The Star Trek Imagines

IV. Liquid Courage | Chekov

Alcohol is never your favorite drink of choice. In your opinion, it turns perfectly good men and women into assholes and slobs. "Alcohol never made any situation worse," you'd once told your best friend, the Russian.

But even you have to admit that sometimes alcohol gives one that push they need to do something, admit something, a leap of faith.

One occasion is your twenty-first birthday. After a small party with close friends, you and Chekov head back to your neighboring quarters. Being on the Enterprise for a few years has brought you very close together.

Both of you settle down on the sofa. You had decided to have a celebratory drink for your twenty-first. Russians can drink much earlier than Americans, so Chekov brought his Vodka that he'd been saving. "Congratulations, [Y/n]!" He pours your third glass and hands it to you with a big grin. "I did not theenk you vould make eet!"

You roll your eyes, taking the glass. "What's Bones call this stuff again? Liquid courage?"

Chekov nods with a laugh, having a little more level head than you. "I theenk. Vhy do you ask?"

You shrug, placing the glass down. "Liquid courage..." As you trail off, you look up at your best friend. "Y'know, Mister Russian, you're actually kinda handsome."

Chekov laughs even harder. "Vhen you are drunk, anytheeng is possible."

You make a playfully angry face. "Not true! I've always thought that about you. Just didn't have the courage to tell you."

Chekov stops laughing and looks at you with a hopeful smile. "You really theenk so?" You nod furiously. Chekov reaches out to pull you in for a warm embrace. "I theenk you are beautiful, too, [Y/n]."

"Not so tight," you giggle. "I don't wanna throw up on you."