Title: Crack-shot
Fandom: ST: Reboot
Characters: Sulu, Chekov
Rating: T
Warnings: Violence
Notes: A crackmeme fill. It was quick and easy, and the commenter who started wank about it pissed me off enough that I couldn't resist. Chekov is not helpless and girly, he is a goddamn space-math artist. Sulu is a giant badass, but a sword vs. more disruptors than you can take in at a glance is never a good plan. Fic may be shorter than prompt…
 From this prompt:
In certain fics, I'm tired of Chekov always being the "baby" or the "girl" or being horribly traumatized via rape/kidnapping or having always to be coddled and… boobie-beedie-blah!
I'm tired of passive, insecure Chekov that Sulu always has to freaking rescue.
Dammit, just because he's adorable doesn't mean he's weak! Even in the movie, he's bouncing around all cute like, but he also exudes confidence, probably more so than anyone else on the bridge, and he never loses steam!
This is freaking Chekov, people, and he can do zat!
I imagine there's a request in there somewhere…
(captcha says: unkempt restoration)
It wasn't that Sulu wasn't a giant badass, unto himself, it was just that there were only so many things a swordsman could get himself out of, with only a sword and no backup. But, when it's one man and the nerd kid against thirty-four Romulans, you do what you can, and pray to anything you can think of that your ass walks out of it alive.
He was holding pretty well — green arterial spray covered the walls — but when the disruptor fire finally took him in the shoulder, he was convinced it was all over. Until the red light of the phaser beam lashed out over his head, as he fell.
Chekov cocked his head and laid out two more improbable shots, muttering in Russian about trajectories, as he fired. In fact, before his eyes rolled back in his head, Sulu noted that Chekov had tallied up a significantly higher kill count. It was to be expected — a sword worked well, if you were good with it, but frankly, it sucked against opponents with disruptors. The phaser fire continued as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Sulu blinked himself awake, in sickbay, an hour later. There was Chekov, leaning against the side of the bio-bed, reading Russian love poetry, to himself.
"Ve really need to stop meeting like this, da?" Chekov offered, with a cocky smile.
Sulu laughed. It was all he could do. Some days, it was good to be alive. Other days, it was just awesome.
