poly_chromatic | action, January 30th/31st

[Okay, but has everyone forgotten that there's snow outside and Anonymous is setting up all kinds of amazing things? Dogsled races! Dips in the ridiculously cold ocean among the icebergs! Free hot chocolate! Chekov, being his own boss, gives himself both days off on account of all of the misery accumulated throughout the rest of January. There's nothing like some bracing winter excitement to lift the spirits.

Shut up, he's Russian.

He makes the most of both days. Dogsled racing on the thirtieth? Yep, he's there, hanging on for dear life and trying to remember which words the dogs respond to. (He doesn't win, but he makes it across the finish line with no injuries that require hospitalization, so he considers himself victorious.) Polar bear swim on the thirty-first? Why not! Chekov is practically obligated to participate! His plan to outlast everyone else braving the icy ocean waters fails when an inability to feel his limbs complicates doggy-paddling, but it was fun while it lasted.

Chekov barely sets foot indoors. He can be found almost anywhere in the City, running or starting snowball fights or watching moonlight sparkle on the snow after the sun sets. It's two days of enjoying the City without worrying about disappointing anyone or dwelling on those who have left. Chekov thinks that he has earned it.]

[ooc: Open action for either day!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He kisses her--or her head, rather, since that's what's in kissing range.]

That sounds acceptable. ...Your mother would really like me?

[That sounds nice. A quiet, normal life somewhere where he can do science and not worry about blowing up or having to over engineering or catching an unknown virus from an alien race. Football, meeting Lucy's mother... all pleasant.

But impossible. Kirk had been right when he told Chekov that he knows where he belongs, and that's in his world, in space. Somewhere Lucy can't be. Not only is it dangerous, but she would require training and, even then, they may be assigned to different ships. Quadrants, even. He doesn't have the heart to say it, though.]

Maybe, only I am not sure what my father would make of you. He has always wanted me to settle down with a quiet Russian girl.

[ honestly, she's afraid that's the case. she's afraid that she would be left on a planet while he's gone for months at a time, maybe even years. however, since this scenario is impossible, she's going to angle for something much happier. it hurts far too much to consider anything else, but she can't help the tears that fill her eyes or the laugh that seems a little forced. ]

I'm neither quiet or Russian. He might think you're rebelling.

[ she stays tucked against him where she is, hoping he can't see the tears and not caring to be any further away from him than she is right now. ]

[Realistically? In 2259, Lucy would find herself on Earth and Chekov would find himself on five-year missions unless he gave up his commission and pursued a career outside of Starfleet. The romantic in him is disappointed by his commitment to his current career path, which will inevitably make relationships difficult, but Chekov can't give up the stars. Not for anyone, not even Lucy.

It makes him feel like a terrible human.]

I have always been rebelling, he would not be too surprised. You would win him over.

[He can't see the tears, but he can tell that Lucy's upset. Chekov gives her a full-body squeeze.]

I'm sorry. I should not have brought this up.

[ It shouldn't make him feel like a terrible human being. It is what is and she realizes that. ]

Well then we're set.

[ She shakes her head at his apology. ]

No. It's okay. It's nice. I swear.

No, it isn't. What is the use in talking about things that can never happen?

[He sighs, stuck in a melancholy mindset.]

You know that I love you, correct?

[Maybe she doesn't want to hear it, but he needs to say it and know that she knows.]

[ Lucy hesitates then shrugs. ] It's pretending. Like I pretend that neither one of us are going to be forced to leave. Also known as ignoring the issues.

[ She hesitates, aware of how serious he sounds then nods. ] I know. [ there's another small pause. ] You know that I love you too, right? I mean even though I don't say it often...ever.

[Chekov doesn't think that this is such a good way of coping, but, since he has employed the method himself once or twice, he is in no position to say anything. Perhaps it works better for Lucy than it did for him.

Ah, those words. Not that the words are important, except they are when they're said so rarely.] I do, yes. You say it well enough. [And he suddenly needs to be closer to her, which is problematic since they're already smooshed together.]

[ it's not a terribly healthy way of coping, but then Lucy never claimed to be emotionally healthy. This is simply one reason why.

They are important when they're said rarely, and maybe that's one reason she does say them so rarely. They're scary and big and important, far too important to be thrown around every day. She smiles at his reassurance. ] Good because I never want you to feel anything but loved. [quite problematic. She presses a kiss to his jaw.]

How 'bout we take Everett back to play with Bryant and you can spend the next several hours making love to me.

[ Which is different than what she usually says. She usually says 'let's have sex'. Lucy is feeling decidedly squishy tonight. ]

[Pavel might say I love you too often, but he means it every time he says it.]

You make me feel very loved. And lucky. [He nuzzles the top of her head affectionately, not missing the change in her phrasing.] I would like that.

action, January 30th/31st

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