Nobis ✴︎ Pavel Chekov

Chapter Thirty Five - Wasted

Next shift, Sulu picks up on Pavel's glow and waits until they go for a five minute break before he asks about it. Pavel explains how well think went with Emory and how relieved he feels. Sulu says it's nice to see him in such a good mood and Pavel admits it's nice to not feel so uptight. The captain comes up behind them before they go back and asks if Pavel's having girl troubles again.

"No, actually the opposite Keptin."

Sulu and Kirk look at each other with a grin and Kirk gives him a clap on the back before he returns to his station.

In the afternoon, Pavel finds the time to help Emory study and feels a little buzzed. He's so glad they're talking again and so glad he's not feeling the need to check his messages periodically. Emory tries to stay on task as much as possible. The way he teaches leaves her a little unfocused. He speaks in such a soft calming voice and it sends chills down her spine sometimes. It's like through the headphones he's almost whispering right in her ear. She doesn't comment on it directly to him. She thinks he'd get too much of a kick out of it.

"You were on the phone for like an hour, who were you talking too?"

"Emory," Pavel mutters, placing his PADD on the bench. "Her stellar cartography final is in three days and she needs to go over the whole semester's content. Which, mind you, she said wasn't possible but we've only got two more topics to cover and then we're done."

"You really are a freak of nature," Sulu laughs. Pavel shoots him a wide-eyed grin and plugs something into the replicator. Their doorbell buzzes and Sulu gets up to get it but calls Pavel's name out as soon as he sees who's on the other side.

"Doctor?" Pavel asks, looking briefly at Sulu then back to McCoy.

"I need a hand with something," he says quietly.

"What exactly do you need?" Pavel asks quietly, a hint of suspicion in his voice. McCoy tells him he'll explain on the way and gives Pavel a gentle push out of the doorway, directing him towards medbay.

"You know I'm no help in the medical division, yes? I will pass out if I see too much blood."

"There's no blood, its fine."

"I really don't get why you need my help then," he mutters, growing tired of McCoy's lack of explanation.

"Can you just wait a minute kid, it's easier just to show you."

He opens the door to his office and Pavel walks in, almost not noticing the person sitting in McCoy's chair. Her feet are up on the desk and Pavel has to hold back a groan.

"She's plastered," McCoy mutters, gesturing towards Irina, red faced and with a bottle in her hand. McCoy takes the bottle off her and puts it back in his desk, rolling his eyes.

"Why do you need me here?" Pavel asks gently, an uncomfortable feeling pulling at the pit of his stomach.

"Two reasons," McCoy mutters, "one was that she was requesting you. Or at least we think so because she's speaking exclusively Russian. Which comes to reason number two. She's slurring so badly the translator won't pick up most of what she's saying. So, I need a few translations."

Pavel sighs and switches to Russian, asking Irina if she's feeling alright and taking a seat. She looks up at him and tells him that she's feeling terrible, finishing her sentence with a weak laugh. Pavel suggests that they take her back to her room and she nods weakly, trying to stand and falling right back into the chair. McCoy and Pavel look at each other with a mutual 'oh Jesus here we go' kind of look. They each take a side and start walking back towards her quarters.