So I've been coming to terms in recent months that I love Star Trek a ton. I have known for many years that John Cho is one of my favorites ever, so I guess this is my way of paying tribute? I guess?

Anyway, read and enjoy! I hope.

TRADITIONAL DISCLAIMER: you know the deal by now.

Well, it wasn't the language barrier.

Then again, nothing was the language barrier. One one hand, this was comforting—good to know that the fact that the country where he had chosen to spend the next few years of his life wouldn't have him staring blankly at anyone who tried to speak to him. So that was good. On the other hand...

Well, on the other hand, it was the age barrier.

He gazed out at the packed apartment over the rim of his plastic cup with eyes that analyzed even as they observed. The mysterious liquid (and seriously, what the hell was in it?) in the cup released the heady smell of unidentifiable alcohol. Vodka, Everclear and...fuck, was that absinthe?

He sniffed again.

Absinthe.

He took a gulp.

No, it wasn't the language barrier that had him feeling like the world's most socially awkward idiot. It was the being-sixteen-in-a-room-of-twentysomethings thing.

Again.

God fucking damnit.

He took a gulp.

I should have stopped after my first cup.

He didn't mind being young, but every other person in the entire galaxy seemed to. What is the point of joining Starfleet so young if the odds of anyone agreeing to work with me seem to plummet every time they consider my age? It was a thought that had crossed his mind far too frequently in the past few years. But he stuck with the program, partially because his stubborn streak was about ten billion kilometers wide, and partially because the thought of returning to another Russian winter was almost too much to bear.

He took a gulp.

Look at me, you assholes. He glared at the red-suited backs of his fellow cadets, all of whom seemed to be steadfastly ignoring him. I dare you. Yeah, I'm here.

Whooooo.

Absinthe.

Gaila tripped over to him, her cheeks flushed a darker green with heat and booze. He tried to plaster a grin on his face, although he felt like pouting at her. She was the one, after all, who had (perhaps unknowingly) exploited his burning need to be accepted by inviting him to this excruciating excuse for a party.

Russia invented real parties, he thought rebelliously.

"There you are!" Gaila shouted so loudly that he flinched backwards. "So easy to lose you in the crowd, baby boy!"

The nickname was enough to make him drain his cup.

"You are having fun?" Pavel asked. The question was obviously rhetorical. Even in his limited experience, he knew that no one that soused was having anything but a good time.

"You should be socializing!" Gaila slurred at the top of her lungs. He flinched backwards again, but this time it was because of the aggressive onslaught of stinging alcohol on her breath. "I brought you here to socialize!"

"I am socializing," Pavel responded. "Look, I have a drink and everything." He held up his cup which, although currently empty, did hold the traces of recently imbibed liquid. Gaila inspected the presented evidence with all the care that could be expected of a Starfleet cadet—impressing him in the process.

"Hooray!" she squealed, grabbing his arm. "I am so glad I made you come out tonight."

"Me too," he lied.

"You would not believe who is here," she steamrollered over his response. "I mean, seriously. Would not believe. It."

"Captain Pike," Pavel said drily, halfway wishing that he had another cup of mystery-liquid to keep his exasperation at bay. Gaila smacked his bicep.

"Don't be silly!" she reprimanded. "Jim Kirk."

"Gaila..."

"I'm just going to say hi," she told him, backing away. "Just...touch base. You know."

Base isn't the only thing she's gonna be touching. "Gaila..."

"Go have fun, Pav!" Gaila instructed him. "You're young, you're cute, you're a genius—I'm sure you can figure out some way to manage it."

She disappeared, a streak of green into the press of cadet-red.

Pavel wasted no time in placing his empty cup on a stack of its teetering kindred. You never feel this way in the classroom, he thought to himself as he sought a path between his gyrating and shrieking fellow students. So stick to lectures from here on out and let these idiots drink themselves into a stupor.

But there was the unfortunate fact, he realized as he stepped out onto the back steps, that he felt as though he had adequately begun that process himself. The world was swimming in a not-entirely-unpleasant way as he contemplated the steps heading down towards the ground. Fucking wonderful.

Whoooooooo.

Absinthe.

He was so focused on keeping one hand on the railing and his feel moving one before the other as he descended that he nearly tripped over a man in cadet-red who had been reclining on the steps, gazing up at the stars. Only a firm grip on the back of his jacket saved him from taking the rest of the descent on his face.

"Careful!" the stargazer exclaimed. Regaining his (unsteady) footing, Pavel realized that the victim of his clumsiness was a cadet a few years older than him (of course) who he remembered from a crash-course in Biology that he had been forced through in his first year at the Academy. Try as he might, he could not...remember...the man's...name...

"You okay?" the other man asked, peering at Pavel through the darkness. Pavel could only barely make out his step-savior's almond shaped eyes and black hair in the dim light emanating from the nearest apartment.

"I am fine, yes, thank you," he replied, straightening out his jacket.

"Sorry I kinda tripped you up there," the other cadet said. "You're coming from the party?"

"Fleeing from." Apparently the mystery-liquid had destroyed any brain-mouth barriers, because Pavel himself was surprised that he had uttered this thought allowed. To his gratification, though, the other man chuckled.

"Not really my scene either," he said. "I think I stopped in for about a minute before...I dunno, it's a little too much for me."

"Yes."

The two men stood in silence for a moment, each fidgeting awkwardly. The stargazer (what is his name what is his name) was twirling a bottle of beer that he had most likely stolen from the party above, while Pavel was messing with the hem of his jacket.

"I am not sure whether you remember me from—"

"I'm Hikaru Sulu—"

The simultaneous small-talk made them chuckle. Pavel gestured to Sulu. "You first."

"No, I was just about to say—yeah, I'm Hikaru Sulu. I think we were in that Bio class together a year or so ago...right?"

The dim light illuminated the flicker of embarrassment in Sulu's eyes. No one wants to be the one who remembers the most, Pavel thought wryly. "Of course," he replied. "Of course I remember. You said you were interested in xenobiology...correct?"

Sulu's mouth twisted in a wide smile...and Pavel suddenly found air to be in quite short supply. Fucking absinthe.

"Correct. It's Pavel Chekov, right?" Sulu ventured. Pavel gave him a flash of a smile in return—his first real smile all day.

"That is me."

"This is gonna sound totally idiotic, but you always came across as some kind of genius in that class. Seriously. Every time you opened your mouth, I was just kind of blown away." Sulu told him earnestly.

No more smile.

"Thank you."

Pavel turned his attention back to the insurmountable problem of Stairs while Sulu scrambled to correct the mistake he did not understand how he had made. "I mean, you just seem...really smart. You just kind of got things. It was really impressive."

"Thank you."

Foot one. Good. Foot two...

Dammit.

Sulu released his grip on the back of Pavel's jacket for the second time in the past five minutes. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Whoo.

Absinthe.

"No."

Pavel had been in San Francisco long enough to know that this was not the socially acceptable answer to the question "Are you okay," but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. Maybe it was the warm hand that lingered on his arm...maybe it was the cup of vodeverclinthe (or whatever) that was coursing through his system...maybe...maybe...

"It was nice meeting you again, Hikaru Sulu." Pavel flashed what he hoped was a charming smile to his companion. "I will most likely be seeing you at the Academy sometime very soon. Please have a lovely evening."

Foot one. Good. Foot two...

GODDAMMIT, FOOT TWO.

This time Sulu kept his grip twisted in the back of Pavel's jacket. "I think I should help you home," he said.

"That might be wise," Pavel found himself responding. "I'm in the Franklin building."

Moving down the steps was a lot easier with someone to grab onto if he found his balance slipping away from him. Maybe he grabbed onto that steady arm more frequently than he technically needed to. Maybe he slid his glance sideways more often than his concentration could technically allowed. Maybe his flushed cheeks weren't technically due to the cool night breeze...

Oh, sweet, solid, steady, flat ground.

Now that Pavel was able to move forward without being completely terrified of toppling forward, he tried his hand at The Art Of Conversation (oh, mother would be so proud).

"You do not like the big parties either, no?" he asked, keeping his eyes glued to the sidewalk in front of him. He heard, rather than saw, Sulu's laugh.

"They've never been my scene, really," the other man responded. "Too many people..."

"You are more interested in star-gazing?" It had been meant as a joking query, but it came out as a more serious question. Pavel risked a sideways look at his companion. "I mean, only because you were...looking at the sky when I almost walked all over you."

"'Star-gazing' is what my mother used to call it," Sulu said. Pavel didn't need to look at his face to know that he was miles and years away. "Now I just think of it as studying. Or research. But, I dunno. I like the stars." He nudged Pavel (who had to struggle to keep from stumbling off the sidewalk). "It's what we're here for, right? At this school? Because we like the stars?"

The stars certainly like you. Because the starlight was highlighting Sulu's face and hair and eyes and Pavel could only nod, even as he felt himself tumbling slightly into a crush. God fucking dammit leave the pretty face alone leave him alone.

"I'll let you know the next time I go 'star gazing,' then," Sulu told him. "I could always use a friend who likes the sky as much as I do."

"That would be nice," Pavel replied, infinitely proud that his voice didn't crack.

It took him a moment to realize that both he and Sulu had stopped walking. Pavel looked over—and sure enough, they were standing in front of the Franklin building. "That did not take very long," he commented, to Sulu's evident amusement.

"You walk really fast for a little guy," he said.

Little.

Pavel stiffened.

"Thank you very much," he told Sulu. "I am very sorry if I disrupted your night's plans in any way..."

"No, I mean—it was really nice to see you again." Sulu extended his hand to shake, and Pavel accepted. Did Sulu's hand maybe linger a little bit too long on his? Pavel brushed the thought aside. You will drive yourself insane, Pavel, he thought. Stop this.

"Good night," he told Sulu, and ducked inside before the other man could respond. He slammed the front door closed and leaned back against it, closing his eyes against the spinning world.

Whoooooooo.

Absinthe.

Right?

I welcome any and all reviews! I hope you enjoyed it!