James T. Kirk

Pavel watched as Scotty kissed the hand of the woman, who he guessed was an older version of Nurse Chapel from sickbay, in greeting.

"Oh!" Pavel giggled as Scotty seemed incredibly flustered, appearing to try extremely hard to make up for his dishreveled appearance. "He is being wery chiwalr--chivlr--eh..."

Drat, tongue twister, now he was frustrated, dammit.

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"Dashing," Harold finished, giggling. He couldn't really get that word either. "Go Scotty," he said playfully. Why it didn't strike him the same way as Kirk had earlier was a complete mystery to him.

He shrugged it off, leaning in at Pavel. "Hi," he said, quirking an eyebrow, looking Pavel up and down with purpose.

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"No pool cue?" George asked, sliding to the other side of Harold after listening a moment to make sure it was Harold, and not HIkaru."

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"George," Harold whooped, grinning broadly. He pulled enough away from Pavel to wrap and arm around him, pulling George into a shameless hug. "Where the fuck have you been, man?" The question was affectionate.

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"Sir!" Pavel greeted gleefully, old habits did die hard. He extended his hand to shake with George's.

"Eh, 'George', right. You do owe me a rematch, da?" His eyes twinkled with playful challenge.

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George met Harold's hug was a hearty squeeze of his own, a smile busting out "Had a shitty experience at fishing, last two days."

"Sure do, Chekov. How'd you get mixed up with this troublemaker?" He glanced at Harold teasingly. "Took on half a bar, y'know."

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"Hey, man, you and me both! Did you run into a fishbirdthing too?"

He still held Pavel's hand, stroking fingers unashamedly. He didn't know Pavel knew George; the knowledge delighted him, and he planted a kiss on Pavel's forehead before turning back.

"I only took on a quarter of a bar, man. You handled the rest, you crazy fuck." He chuckled.

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"Ah, so it is you who helped Lee with the bar fight?" Pavel shot Harold a teasing look. He felt slightly flustered at Harold's sudden open affection in front of George, but if Harold could do it, so could Pavel.

He laced their fingers, tugging a bit at Harold's pinky. For now that seemed appropriate, Pavel didn't want to make George feel awkard, since he knew the man only slightly.

"He has a poor taste in enemies." Pavel told George with a grin before rolling his eyes. "The kind that take grudges wery, wery easily."

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"Yep. Offered to buy them a drink instead of fighting, but they weren't quite as interested," George explained. "So we started some ruckus and ducked out before the authorities came to calm things down." He grinned at the two of them. They were cute.

"You took care of it?" George asked Harold. "You look a bit beat up..." George had had the advantage of surfing with Bones the next day, so he got the kings treatment.

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"I didn't so much take care of it as got my ass dragged around while Pavel here did," Harold said, chuckling. Pavel's hand in his felt a simple kind of awesome.

"How have you been?" he directed at George. "I'm really glad I caught you. Hell, I'm pretty sure that's a big ship, and I don't even know your last name. I was afraid I might not see you again."

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"You need some combat lessons, Harold," George shook his head. "Talk to me when we're back on ship if you don't want to be tossed around by the security people...I think I can remember the basics."

"I've been good. Been reconnecting with a couple of lovers I lost a few years back, and hanging out with some new friends." He stealthily neglected to to mention his last name again. Liked having someone who didn't go weird on him.

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Combat-- lessons? Huh. "That's hard to turn down. I'll do that."

Harold raised eyebrows and nodded. "That's pretty wonderful, dude. I was hoping you were someplace having fun. I meant to thank you again, though." He patted his own leg unconsciously, the bundle of wood tied securely under his pants. "For the credits, for the room, everything."

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"You're gonna wind up bruised...and we'll have to see if we can't coordinate our shifts," George warned.

"Did some shopping, went surfing, and got attacked by a crazy ass plant," George listed. "Some fun, some not. What have you been up to besides fighting?"

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Shifts? Huh. He hadn't really considered that he'd have a shift.

"Fishing. Turns out-- there's this fish on Risa, yeah? If you piss it off? It flies out of the fucking water. Not only that, but if it slimes you, you get crazy, crazy high. You wouldn't believe--" He giggled, cutting himself off. "Also, fucking."

Awesome. Harold was feeling pretty free tonight. He didn't look over to see Pavel's reaction to dropping that little fact; he just grinned.

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At Harold's comment Pavel practically choked on his third shot of vodka. He coughed a little, smiled despite it all and mouthed an 'I'm okay' with a nervous smile. Thank you, Mr. Blunt.

Still, he passed it off and kept a straight face, observing Harold's conversation with the Kirk legend with interest. So Harold didn't know the man's last name? Pavel'd respect that, he wouldn't tell Harold unless the man asked.

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Harold smirked and gave Pavel a kiss on the cheek; he was damn cute when he was embarrassed. "Okay there?"

Edited Date: 2009-08-23 03:10 am (UTC)

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Pavel gave Harold a look of mock annoyance, resuming trying to finish his shot. "Uh huh." He mumbled, shaking his head, the corners of his lips twitching upward in amusement.

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"Mine was a plant that got me so stoned I was barely blinking...for two days," George explained. "Not my best fishing experience."

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"Oh, man, that had to be trippy." He shook his head and drank some more. "Glad you're alive."

"Listen, though, I'm looking for the Captain, yeah? Need to run something by him. If you see him wander by, let me know, okay?"

Edited Date: 2009-08-23 05:43 am (UTC)

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"Sure, I saw him earlier," George agreed. "Whatcha need to talk to him about? Hey, you alright, after..." He glanced at Pavel. "You know."

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"Was hoping to ask for my own quarters. Needing a place on ship, you know? And I've got something for him. Thanks."

"I'm pretty--" he looked to Pavel, wary. "Good. Okay. Getting there."

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"Why don't you have your own quarters? If it's you don't like your bunk mate there's not a lot Jim is gonna be able to do for you," George said gently.

"Not in need of any romulan ale?"

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"I just stayed with Hikaru, dude. Unless- that's what you meant by my bunk mate," he said, laughing. The alcohol confused him a bit. "This whole on-my-own thing is new."

"Not today, no. Got my vodka. But I'll take a rain check, man."

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"Generally whoever you're assigned as a roommate is your bunkmate," George nodded and then chuckled. "You're with Chekov here...I wouldn't expect you to be drinking any liquor besides Vodka, without him giving you the hairy eyeball anyway."

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