A/N: So, for the one I wanted to try my hand at writing a one shot involving Scotty, Chekov, and Sulu on a road trip. I always liked the friendship between Chekov and Sulu in TOS, and in the reboot I really love the underlying friendship they have going down between Scotty and Chekov. I've always seen that one as more of a father-son thing. I would love reviews, but please, nothing negative! I wrote this last night in a moment of "gottawritegottawritegottawrite" frenzy, but I hope it's decent! Enjoy!

The road trip had, initially, been Sulu's idea. It was their first time setting foot back on Earth after their six-month mission immediately following Kirk's promotion to Captain and the Enterprise's christening. Over the course of that time, Sulu had gotten to know Chekov a lot better, Scotty slightly less so. But somehow it had come out that neither of them had seen much of America.

Sulu didn't know why that shocked him. After all, both of them were born in different countries, hadn't so much as touched American soil until they came to Starfleet. Considering Chekov's age and amount of time in San Francisco – or lack thereof – his relative illiteracy when it came to the good old USA was to be expected. But Scotty –

Sulu's jaw had about hit the rec room floor. "What do you mean you've never seen the Grand Canyon?"

Scotty shrugged. "I dinna get out of San Francisco much when I was at the Academy. And in case you're forgettin', I spent six months marooned on a godforsaken lump of rock halfway to the Laurentian system. Sightseein' wasna exactly the top of my list."

It was then that the brain child had manifested itself. Sulu had gotten that pensive look he sometimes adopted when thinking seriously on a matter. The look didn't leave him for at least a week. They would have a month back on Earth when they returned. Perhaps the middle two weeks to introduce his friends to the country he grew up in? That should leave them enough time to visit their respective families and set up temporary lodging on Earth before they took off again.

One day after they'd been relieved and were headed back to their separate quarters, Sulu could feel Chekov eyeing him. Not much got past his young friend. Rubbing the back of his neck and blinking sleep out of his eyes, Sulu sighed.

"Chekov, I've been thinking..."

Chekov smirked. "How many times must I tell you, Meester Sulu, zat ees a dangerous pastime?"

"Oh, like you don't do your fair share of it," Sulu teased. "Anyway, you mentioned you wouldn't mind seeing a bit more of America, right? Well, I know how much you love Russia... But you think it could spare you for about two weeks of our month back?"

Once Chekov was in, Scotty hadn't taken much convincing. Not that Sulu had thought it would be hard. In fact, it was actually harder for him to reconcile taking half of his leave to spend with people he'd seen every day for the past half year when his family was right in San Francisco. But, via subspace letter, he'd "written" his husband about the possibility (in fact, it wasn't writing, but rather a projection of the sender's face and voice, so the only thing keeping it from being a real conversation was the inability to respond immediately). He'd been relieved when he got the go-ahead.

Scotty had actually taken over a great deal of the planning. Sulu would never have pegged the man as talented in this particular area, but all he'd had to do really was plot out where they were going. The other two had helped some, of course, Chekov in particular. The Russian had plenty of ideas of what he wanted to see, whereas Scotty just shrugged and said, "I'm mostly just along for the ride, laddies. No different than usual. Ye're the helmsman and navigator. This is your job."

Keenser had been a bit indignant at the idea of being left behind, and quite frankly, Sulu and Chekov had felt a decent amount of guilt at realizing they hadn't even thought to bring him along. Scotty, however, managed to calm him down – "Oh, come down off it, ye wee lizard!" – and assured the other two that he wasn't normally a nuisance – "Except now. I mean it! Get off it! How many times must I tell ye, this isna a jungle gym?"

Over all, all Sulu had needed to do was supervise. Chekov had their route plotted, Scotty had the other things taken care of, and Keenser was...well, Sulu was sure the little Roylan had helped Scotty somehow in that strange way of communication they had. Maybe over two weeks, he'd learn how to communicate with a speechless being, too.

The day had finally arrived. Scotty lugged another piece of equipment out of the cab, paid the driver, and frowned down at Keenser.

"I donna suppose you'd want te carry any o' this, would ye?" he growled.

Keenser merely looked up at him with a completely blank face and shook his head.

"Figured as much," Scotty muttered, looking up at Sulu's house. It was a nice enough place, he supposed. Certainly better than his studio apartment in the heart of the city. Sulu's house was located in the old sector of the city, rebuilt after being completely demolished in the most recent earthquake to look exactly as it had before. In fact, it didn't appear much different from the late twentieth-century. The houses were all painted pastel, all two-story, and all stacked so close together it looked as though they were attached. And...they had porches. With stairs. Of course they did. Groaning, Scotty began to drag his load to the front door.

Fortunately for him, at that instant, the door flew open and Chekov bounded down the stairs.

"Meester Scott!" he cried in greeting, then paused when he saw the amount Scotty had brought along. Frowning, he asked, "Ees zis...all yours?"

Scotty gave him an exasperated look. "You'll be thankin' me later, wee man. Help me get it inside and I'll enlighten ye on its purpose."

As Scotty heaved his pack up the stairs, Chekov bent down and lifted the next item of luggage onto his shoulder – a tote of some kind. While Scotty wasn't exactly out of shape, and Chekov didn't look all that muscular, he did have the benefit of youth.

Glancing down at Keenser, Chekov nodded to the third piece of baggage, another bag.

"Are you going to get zat, or...?"

Keenser looked up at him, blinked, and then lifted it. It was so big it obscured his face from view, and he carried it stoically up the steps past Chekov. Scotty, meanwhile, who'd dropped his burden as soon as he'd entered, stared in shock from Keenser to Chekov and back.

"How...?" he asked, his eyes finally setting on his young friend and his hand gesturing frantically at Keenser.

Entering the house, Chekov shrugged, or would have had the tote not been preventing him from doing so. "Vat can I say? Kids listen to me, too, apparently."

"You're telling me," Sulu muttered under his breath, coming to Scotty's side and mock-glaring at Chekov. "I swear, my daughter likes him better than she likes me."

At that instant, a little two-year-old girl, whom Scotty had learned was called Demora, barely able to stand properly, toddled into the room, exclaimed, "Pavel!" and ran up to Chekov. He picked her up and settled her on his hip, looking for all the world like he'd done this a thousand times.

Sulu rolled his eyes and turned to Scotty. "See what I mean?

Scotty laughed. "Well, what do ye know? Our resident only child has a way with the wee ones."

Sulu appraised the luggage situation. "There are many things I've heard said about you, Mr. Scott, and many things that will be said in the future, but let one of them never be that you're a light packer."

"This isna all for me, Sulu!" Scotty growled indignantly. "I was about to explain myself. Ye dinna think I need three bags worth just to run my fingers through my hair in the mornin'?"

The amount of silence that followed that rhetorical question disturbed him. Unfortunately, Keenser was the one who chose to respond.

"Yep."

"Oh, shove off!" Scotty bellowed. "In fact, only this small parcel ye see on my back here is my own. The rest is the necessary items for survival on a road trip."

Chekov raised an eyebrow, Demora snuggled against his shoulder. "Um, Meester Scott, it's not like we're beaming down to a foreign planet."

"And who said Earth dinna have its own dangers?" Scotty replied, expertly removing the lid from the tote Chekov had carried in. "One of which bein' ridiculously high prices at convenience stores and/or any food stop you'll come across on the side of the road. I call this my stockpile. Basically everythin' we'll need in case of emergency. Also, I figure camping would be best," he continued, gesturing to the bag Keenser had dropped at his feet. "Get a better view of the countryside that way. Neither of ye is particularly averse to the great outdoors, are ye?"

Both of them shook their heads.

"Now, I know it's not like we're not ridiculously well-paid as officers of Starfleet," Scotty continued, "but I still think this would work better. And, finally, in this bag I have here, I have..." he paused to take inventory. "Scotch, for my own personal preference. Vodka," he went on, tossing a bottle at Chekov, who caught it and immediately held it away from Demora's grabby hands, "and good old fashioned tea."

Sulu stared down at the article Scotty had thrown his way. "You're kidding. Right?"

"What? Sulu, I thought you were a fan of the beverage? And I speak from experience, not because – "

"I gathered you weren't stereotyping, Scotty," Sulu said dryly, giving him that piercing look. Scotty grinned and tossed him a cask of wine. Sulu himself wasn't a big fan of most types of alcohol, but wine wasn't alcohol, in his opinion. It was an art form.

"Right, now," Scotty said, standing up. "As captain of this particular mission, I think it's fairly safe to assume Sulu's driving?"

Sulu frowned for a second, then his expression cleared. Chekov and Scotty couldn't miss that hint of hesitancy behind the overriding calm, though.

"Of course," he said, his words a bit forced. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Great," Scotty said, frowning. "And, Chekov, since the rental car is an antique, we won't have the built-in navigational system." Scotty whipped out a map and handed it over, then, realizing Chekov's hands were full with the vodka and the child, set it down on the camping equipment. "Congratulations! Ye're a navigator, laddie!"

"I had no idea," Chekov muttered. Scotty was confused. The kid looked less than enthused about it. And here Scotty had thought these two would be jumping up and down at the idea of familiarity. Then he realized he hadn't told them his and Keenser's job yet. Maybe they just thought he intended to lounge around in the back seat the entire two weeks.

"Keenser and I will in charge of any breakdowns we may have. And if either of ye require refreshment for the journey, we'll be distributing that," he said. "And basically all equipment we may need while camping is my responsibility. Now! Let's get going!"

Scotty was still loading the camping supplies into the car's trunk. Chekov, meanwhile, stared down at the map in his lap. This was practically a foreign object to him. He knew Mr. Scott was certifiably a genius, but he wasn't quite sure what he was thinking. Pavel Chekov was many things, and one of them was a child of the twenty-third century. And maps were practically as antique as this car itself. Sulu had called it a PT cruiser. Whatever that meant. But either way, it was just the sort of car Sulu would drive. The man had a fascination with antiques that Chekov had yet to understand.

Chekov eyed the map for another few minutes, then forced himself to take a deep breath. Okay. This shouldn't be difficult. He knew north, south, east, west, all of that. Almost as well as he knew space headings. As long as he kept track of which highway they were on, everything should be fine.

But where in the name of all the Russias had Mr. Scott picked this thing up?

Chekov glanced over at Sulu in the driver's seat. He looked almost completely serene except for his knuckles. They were completely white as Sulu gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline.

"Are...you okay?" Chekov asked, more than a little concerned.

Sulu nodded, inscrutable as always. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

He was lying. There was that little touch of defensiveness in his voice that gave him away. However, knowing that likely Sulu wouldn't be too fond of having any misgivings addressed, Chekov merely shrugged and turned back to the map.

Sulu wasn't about to return the favor though.

"What about you?" he asked. "You're looking at that thing like it's a poisonous reptile that decided to crawl into your lap and take a snooze."

Chekov considered. "Eet vouldn't be ze first time."

Sulu made a noise that was somewhere between a choke and a hiccup. Releasing his death-grip on the steering wheel, he exclaimed, "Wait. What? When has a poisonous reptile ever decided you were its chaise lounge?"

Scotty finally entered the car. "Oh, that one time on Athena Five. Like te scare the hell outta me and the captain, too."

Sulu nailed Chekov with his best Dad-stare. "Why haven't I heard this one?"

"Between me, Meester Scott, and ze Keptin, I honestly find eet hard to believe you hawen't," Chekov admitted.

So as Sulu started the car and Chekov began telling the story with Scotty cutting in and embellishing things here and there, they drove off. And the two in the front seat were almost able to take their mind off of the trepidation in their guts. Almost.

Of course, that was made a bit difficult when Sulu nearly ran them off of the road twice in the next hour. Chekov merely gripped the map, crinkling it around the edges, and determined that he was not, for the life of him, going to let them know just how utterly rubbish with directions he was when not at the helm of a starship.

Sulu gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter, even tighter than he knew was possible. He could do this. He could do this. He could do this. I sound like Chekov, he thought to himself. No way could he let on that he was the most nervous driver in the galaxy – when it came to cars.

How hard could it be to maneuver a small vehicle like this when he'd piloted the USS Enterprise, for goodness' sake? They'd been driving nearly all day and no one was dead yet. Sulu took a deep breath. He was in control. He was at the helm. He could do this. Hikaru Sato Sulu was in control. He. Was. In. Con –

Scotty, in the back seat, screamed out a curse in Gaelic and shot forward, yanking the wheel to the side just before they were creamed by a passing semi-truck – made no less deadly by its spot a few feet above the ground.

There was complete silence in the car. Sulu felt a trickle of sweat flow down his temple. Fortunately it was the left one, so neither of his friends could see. He took a deep, steadying breath and said a mental thank-you for his ability to remain completely inscrutable.

Looking over at Chekov, he found that his young Russian friend was probably mentally cursing that he did not have the same ability. The map was tightly gripped in between his hands, now a crumpled mess. It was a wonder Chekov could even see the lines on the paper that apparently represented the roadway.

Scotty's fingers could be heard drumming on the back seat. Keenser's normal silence was prevalent until he decided to start whistling. Apparently even he was uncomfortable. Wow, Sulu thought, his eyes glued on the road. This must be bad if Keenser is the only vaguely verbal one.

Finally Scotty spoke up. "Well, if neither of ye feels like chatting – and Lord knows it's an off day if this one isna yammerin' yer ear off" he gave Chekov's hair a ruffle, "how about music? I assume this ancient contraption has some sort of radio capability?"

Sulu nodded wordlessly and turned on the radio, mindful of Scotty's, "Oy!" when the car started drifting toward the side of the road.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes before Chekov managed to take his eyes off of the map for a few seconds and stare at Sulu.

"Zis is your music choice?"

Sulu shrugged. "I like the old stuff," he said.

"And by old you mean...ancient," Chekov replied.

Sulu raised an eyebrow. "Hey, be careful what you're calling ancient, kid. How old are you now again?"

"Eighteen."

"For which Bones rejoices," Scotty muttered from the back seat. "Why he finds the lad more trustworthy now that he's legally an adult, I donna quite understand."

"Anyway, I'm not quite as old as Vivaldi here," Sulu said, gesturing slightly toward the radio, "but wow...eighteen seems like ages ago."

Scotty scoffed. "What can ye be, Sulu? Twenty-three?"

"Twenty-six."

"I'm thirty-five, laddie. Ye're not quite ripe yet."

Sulu turned to Chekov. "So, what are the kids listening to these days?"

Chekov shrugged again. "I don't really know how to answer zat question. I guess...Just vatewer comes on ze radio."

Sulu glanced in the rearview mirror. "Scotty, we've gotta give this kid a lesson in musical taste."

"Aye. It's a fine art, laddie, and one that doesna always come naturally. However, most of the time, it can be learned." He reached forward and plugged in a station. "You are about to get introduced to a classic."

The strains of an acapella song came on the radio.

Is this the real life?

"Really, Scotty?" Sulu asked.

Is this just fantasy?

"Hey, do nae bash the musical genius that was Queen," Scotty told him. Keenser facepalmed, shaking his head in shame.

Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality

Chekov turned toward Scotty. "Zis... zis song... ees it supposed to make sense?"

Scotty shrugged. "Just roll with it, lad."

The chorus played through, and Chekov's eyes slowly widened.

Mama...just killed a man...put a gun against his head...pulled my trigger, now he's dead...

"Vat are you making me listen to, Meester Scott?" Chekov exclaimed, going to change the station.

"No!" Scotty cried, slapping his hand away. "Just wait!"

And sure enough, by the time the song was over, Chekov was car dancing along with Scotty, completely fallen under the spell of the glorious thing that was Bohemian Rhapsody. Sulu didn't quite take his focus off the road enough to join them, but he did smirk as Chekov and Scotty belted out the last few lyrics.

Nothing really matters, anyone can see, nothing really matters...nothing really matters, to me

Sulu turned to Chekov. "You know, you're not bad. You might have taken up a career in the music industry if Starfleet hadn't – "

"ANY WAY THE WIND BLOOOOWWWSSSSS," Scotty called from the back.

" – worked out," Sulu finished, wincing. "This guy, however..."

"I heard that!"

"Wasn't whispering."

The next song, Living on a Prayer by some poor soul whose parents had apparently called Bon Jovi, blasted through the car. Keenser plugged his ears in preparation for the chorus, but they didn't quite get there. Sulu had been telling them about the last time he'd visited the Grand Canyon, their first stop, when Chekov shouted, "SULU!"

Sulu more sensed the telephone pole before he saw it. Distracted, he'd been veering off to the right. Yanking the steering wheel to the left, he overcorrected. The car ran off the road and began spinning out of control.

Whoaaaa, we're halfway there

Chekov was screaming in Russian, Scotty was letting fly every profanity Sulu had ever heard and then some, and Keenser...well, Sulu was sure whatever Roylans did to communicate terror, he was doing it full throttle right now.

WhooAAA! Living on a prayer!

Sulu related to this song on a spiritual level at the moment as he completely froze. Normally crisis situations were what got him back in the zone, but this – this was madness. Chekov was gripping the door handle and shouting something about a cliff. Sulu barely heard him over the roar of terror in his ears.

Take my hand, we'll make it I swear

The sound of a bottle smashing sent the smell of vodka permeating through the car. Sulu barely registered the tiny presence beside him until the car skidded to a stop...about five feet away from the edge of a very steep cliff. Sulu vaguely recalled Kirk telling him about a similar experience – except Kirk had been twelve and just managed to escape before the car plummeted over the edge. Looking down, he saw that Keenser had pulled the emergency brake.

Whoaaaa! Living on a prayer!

Scotty was unsure of what he wanted to stare at, and in what way. Stare at Sulu in anger and a bit of shock? Stare at the cliff's edge in terror and relief? Stare at Keenser and wonder how the blazes he'd managed to figure out an Earth vehicle – and an old one, for that matter? Or stare at Chekov for no particular reason other than to make sure the kid was okay?

So he just stared at the smashed bottle of vodka.

Sulu had retained his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, refusing to say anything. Chekov had fixed his gaze straight ahead, breathing hard, and refusing to look at the cliff next to them. And Keenser was blinking up at Scotty, refusing to let his act of rescue go unacknowledged.

Scotty merely muttered gruffly, "Knew we brought you along for a reason, lad."

Keenser, figuring that was the best he was going to get, moved back to his seat.

Scotty wondered how to break the silence. He wanted to reassure Sulu somehow that what had nearly happened wasn't his fault, yet as the driver, it kind of was. Rubbing his forehead to alleviate the stress headache coming on, he sighed.

"Maybe we could... Get back to the side of the road and...oh, I don't know, let the car air out so we can get rid of the vodka smell?"

Chekov leaned up against the side of the car, the map still in hand. Keenser sat across from him, giving him that knowing look that made Chekov think perhaps the Roylan could see straight into his soul and know his thoughts.

They were slightly, hopelessly...lost.

Sulu had tried to get them back to the road as best as possible, but when they found it again, it was a fair distance from where they'd been before. Chekov turned to Keenser and held the map out, asking under his breath, "Vell, do you know vat to make of zis?"

Keenser merely shrugged and shook his head.

Groaning, Chekov slid down to the ground. "Zat's vat I sot," he moaned, resting his head on his knees. "Let's face eet, Keenser. Ve're lost. Ve're lost, lost, hopelessly lost. You do understand I'll newer live zis down, right? Youngest nawigator in Starfleet, not to mention on ze Federation's best ship, and I can't follow a simple map!"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the car, Scotty was sitting up against the rear wheel and holding his hand, groaning. Upon exiting the vehicle, he'd accidentally gotten a shard of glass from the vodka bottle stuck in his palm. Sulu had broken out the first aid kit upon receiving instructions as to where it was.

An apologetic look on his face, Sulu said, "I'm no doctor, but I think I know the basics for binding a hand. That should work until we get you to a hospital."

Scotty shrugged. "As long as the wound's clean, I'm in no rush. I don't think we should try driving again tonight."

Sulu's face looked downcast as he agreed, bringing out the swabs. "Yeah, yeah, that's probably a good idea."

The cleaning stung. "Ow!" Scotty shouted. "Ow, ow! D'ye think maybe we should have asked Dr. McCoy to come along? He might even have a bone knitter!"

"I don't think a bone knitter would work when there's no broken bones, Scotty," Sulu muttered.

"Humor, lad," Scotty said. "Remember, ye used to have a sense of it before ye got behind the wheel of that car."

Sulu finished binding Scotty's hand and sat back, leaning on his hands. Sighing, he looked resigned to admitting something. Then he let out a laugh, something Scotty hadn't expected to hear from him tonight.

"Chekov, Keenser," he said. "Come over here. I've got a confession to make."

Looking slightly dejected for some unknown reason, the Russian came from around the other side of the car and sat down next to Scotty, Keenser on his other side. Sulu looked each one of them in the eye, then said,

"I hate driving a car. I am honestly the worst driver in the galaxy. I don't know why, but in space, it seems less stressful. I just..." His voice grew quiet, and he stared down at his lap.

"It just seems so much closer. Everyone's lives being in my hands," he said. "Sometimes I let myself get distracted. Weird, isn't it?"

Scotty shook his head. "No. I do nae think so."

Chekov looked as though he were contemplating saying something. When he did, his words came out in a rush. "Ihefnoideavereveare," he said.

Scotty looked at him, then looked at Keenser, then to Sulu.

"Between the speed and the accent, did you catch any o' that?" he asked.

"Not a word," Sulu replied.

Chekov glared at them both, then spoke, purposefully enunciating each syllable. "IIIIIII... heeeeeeefffff...nooooooo...ideaaaaaa...veeeeerrreee...veeeee...arrrrrreeeee."

Scotty frowned. "Well, let me see that map," he said, taking it from Chekov's hands. "Aye, we're right here. Should get back to the main highway if we keep goin' ta... here."

Chekov watched his finger trace their path back with wide eyes, as did Sulu. Keenser, meanwhile, merely grunted in approval.

"You know how to read zat sing?" Chekov demanded. "Vy didn't you say so before now?"

"Because..." Scotty shrugged, feeling more than a little sheepish. "Because I just assumed that your jobs in space automatically applied to your talents here on Earth. Like I'm one to talk! If ye asked me to take a look under that hood and see what's wrong with it, I'd have no idea where to start! I'm used to starships, and maybe a few modern vehicles, but not this contraption!"

Sulu raised a hand. "I'm actually fairly good with the mechanics of this thing. That's half the reason why I have it, is to tinker with it. It's so much more interesting to toy around with than modern models."

"So if I can navigate...and you can, well, be a mechanic," Scotty mused, "who's the driver?"

Both of them turned to eye Chekov, who considered the matter. Scotty shook his head.

"Absolutely not," he said.

"Actually, I am a pretty good driwer," Chekov said. "Of cars, anyvay."

"But – but – " Scotty spluttered, then finally managed, "Ye're a teenager, laddie!"

Chekov was indignant. "I am eighteen, Meester Scott!"

"Ye're not out of the teenager phase until yer age doesna have the word 'teen' strapped onto the end of it!" Scotty cried. "How is it that of the three of us, the wee man ends up bein' the best driver?"

"Possibly how you ended up being ze best nawigator?" Chekov shot back. "I mean, I tried to explain headings and marks to you two months into ze mission, but no! No, Chekov, ees too hard for me to understand!"

"I dinna say it exactly like that – "

"Did," Keenser muttered.

Scotty opened his mouth to retort only to find Sulu rolling on the ground laughing like a hyena. He looked at Chekov, then at Keenser, then back at Chekov, and then the pair of them broke out into laughter simultaneously.

Keenser, meanwhile, observed the humans and shook his head, sure he was never going to be able to understand these creatures even if he tried.

After deciding that Chekov was now to be their designated driver, they didn't why they shouldn't get a few more miles in that night. But once they got back to the road, they puttered along for maybe ten feet before the car came to an abrupt halt. Sulu, upon inspecting the engine, the car's underbelly, and, finally, the dashboard, came to one conclusion.

They had simply run out of gas.

Fortunately, Sulu had some in the back of the car, but at that point, all four of them were ready to call it a night. With the sun setting on the horizon, Sulu and Chekov set about setting up the tent, Keenser handing them what they needed and Scotty doing what he could with an injured hand, but finally settling into a "supervisory" position.

It was only after Scotty's abysmal attempt at making a fire and Sulu holding up his hands in surrender, clearly indicating that he was out of practice at this particular skill, that they learned another thing about their young friend. Scotty was cursing the fact that they had no phasers with them, so they could just shoot the wood and heat it up, when suddenly Chekov came up, shoved him to the side without a word and started the fire in a matter of seconds.

The other two stared at him, jaws agape, and he raised an eyebrow.

"I'm Russian. Cold ees an occupational hazard. You learn to surwive."

The four of them sat around the fire, sitting on the ground and staring up at the stars. Scotty shook his head in wonder.

"You know, no matter how much time we spend up there in all of that," he said, waving wildly at the sky, "I never get tired of that view."

They were silent for a few more minutes. Scotty and Chekov were both naturally something of a chatterbox, so Sulu thought it strange, but not uncomfortable. This was what he liked: companionable silence, just appreciating nature and everything in it.

Suddenly, an idea popped into Sulu's head. He eyed Chekov, who was still staring up at the star-studded sky, then looked at Scotty and waited for the older man to catch his eye. Sulu grinned at him to make sure he understood there was no truth to what was about to happen, then gasped,

"Chekov, don't move!"

Chekov gave him a look but froze obediently. "Vat?"

Sulu made a show of swallowing hard, and then said, "Um...you remember that story you were telling us earlier about that creature on Athena Six?"

Chekov suddenly appeared to understand. "Da?"

"Well, don't panic, but..." Sulu rose, grabbing a stick from nearby. "There's something right next to you – "

At that instant Keenser, who'd been sitting next to Chekov and nodding off, fell over right into Chekov's lap. The kid let out an ear-splitting cry and leaped higher into the air than Sulu had ever seen anyone go from a sitting position. Unfortunately for Chekov, he was not cat-like in the least, and landing on his feet did not come naturally. He crashed back down to Earth in a heap.

Sulu doubled over in laughter, Scotty was practically rolling on the ground, and Keenser was eyeing Chekov disdainfully with a look that clearly said, "What was that for?"

Chekov glared at Sulu, shouted, "FOR MOTHER RUSSIA!" and tackled him to the ground. Scotty watched the pair of them wrestling around, smiling to himself. Finally, when he was fairly certain Chekov might actually throttle Sulu with the best of intentions, he called out, "All right, laddies! I think ye've beaten each other enough!"

Both of them returned to their initial positions around the fire, panting and grinning ear to ear. Keenser, however, still didn't see what the entertainment was and pointedly scooted a bit closer to Scotty – and a bit farther from Chekov.

After a few seconds, Chekov's smile disappeared, and he grew pensive. Scotty frowned. "Somethin' on yer mind, wee man?"

Chekov shrugged non-committedly. "I don't know, ees just...Do you two ewer feel like Starfleet is more home than home is? That the crew is more your family zan your actual family?"

Scotty and Sulu looked at each other, then back at him. He was looking as though he were desperate to have this validated, that it wasn't just him.

Sulu turned to Scotty as if saying, Hey, you're the oldest one here. This is your territory.

Scotty cleared his throat. "Well, I'm nae saying there's anything wrong with my Earth family. They're great. And long live Scotland, always. But I do nae think there's necessarily anythin' wrong with feelin' that way, laddie."

Sulu cut in, "Though I'm curious as to why you're thinking this."

Chekov shrugged again and gestured to the pair of them. "Vell, I vas just thinking...I'm an only child. My mother died ven I was six. My father vasn't around zat much. I ran away to join Starfleet. Zis, vat I've had vith ze two of you zese past six months...I newer had it vith him, or anyone else." He looked up at Scotty. "Ees zat bad? I mean, he vasn't a horrible father. Just not all zat present, I guess. Ees it bad zat I consider you more of a father zan him, Meester Scott?"

Scotty swallowed the lump in his throat, not quite sure why it was there. After all, this shouldn't come as a shock to him. He, too, considered Chekov like the son he'd never had. So why should it be that big of a deal to find out the kid considered him to be like a father?

But it was a big deal.

"I do nae think it's bad at all, lad," Scotty said.

Sulu let the silence ride for a moment, then cut in. "Hey, Chekov, I was just thinking...Demora is kind of attached to you. I mean, I'm sure you've noticed. Ling and I are practically invisible when you're around. We've been, um..." He cleared his throat, hoping it passed as being unsure of what to say next and not massive emotional build up. "We never picked a godfather for her, and I was just thinking..."

Chekov's eyes grew wide. "Are you serious?"

"I was just thinking...how would you like to be Uncle Pavel?"

Chekov stared at him for a few seconds. Of the three of them, he was the worst at hiding his emotions. Spock would hang his head in shame at the sight of him trying to fight them back now.

"I'd be honored," he said.

There was another moment of companionable silence. Well, it would have been companionable, had the waves of restlessness not been coming off of Chekov in droves.

"All right, laddie, we can tell ye are nae done," Scotty said.

"Hef either of you heard zat old Russian saying, 'Blood ees thicker zan vater?" Chekov asked.

Scotty laughed. "Laddie, I hate to break it to you, but that's not – "

"What it says," Sulu broke in, shooting Scotty a quick look. Don't crush the kid's faith in the mother country! the look seemed to say.

"What it actually says," Sulu continued, "is that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. Meaning the family you pick is stronger than the family you're born with. Whether they coincide is up to you."

Chekov drew something in the dirt with the toe of his shoe. Upon closer inspection, Sulu would find that he'd been drawing an outline of Russia, but scrapped it and drew an outline of the Enterprise over it.

"I sink I like zat wersion better," he said, looking up at the other two and smiling.

Scotty grinned and lay down to get a better look at the stars. Sulu grinned at Chekov and gave him a playful shove, glad that their brotherhood was more or less established.

Keenser, meanwhile, observed it all with his classic headshake. He would never understand humans.