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To be blindly honest, Chekov was entirely lucky to be where he was at such a young age. Shipped straight out of Mother Russia and into the Academy, he thrived there. He got good marks(surprisingly good, considering he barely knew English and his professors didn't understand half of what he was saying), and was recruited into Starfleet at the ripe age of seventeen.
Really, he couldn't be happier on the Enterprise, where he was amongst equals. However, there was one minor distraction.
He wasn't supposed to have crushes. Especially on crew members. It was against Starfleet's regulations. No romantic relationships between a ship's crew. But he couldn't help it, there was something gentle behind the doctor's eyes that made Chekov blush.
Speaking of blushing, that's just what the young Ensign was going as they sat in the elevator together, waiting for Scotty to fix it. The damn thing had given out after Chekov had wandered in, wanting nothing more than to go back to his cabin and sleep. However, the elevator wouldn't allow it, stopping in between floors. Just a few feet away from Chekov's beloved bed.
As soon as the elevator jerked to a stop, Leonard cursed. He pulled out his communicator, but Chekov shook his head. "Eet is no use. Communicators von't vork in here." He said, through his thick Russian accent.
Bones watched as the doe-eyed jailbait navigator slid to a sitting position, and slid his communicator back into his pocket, shaking his head as he sat down next to Chekov.
Chekov hid his face, balancing his forehead on his knees mostly to hide his blush, but Leo wasn't having it. "Are you okay, kid?" He asked, poking the Russian's shoulder.
Chekov nodded, looking up as he wrapped his arms around his legs, which had been drawn to his chest.
Bones took a look at the boys face, raising an eyebrow at him. "Something wrong?" He asked, almost teasingly.
"Just fine, sir." Chekov stuttered, not quite looking at the Medic.
"Sure." He said, drawing out the word suggestively just to make the navigator blush again. He was successful, and the Russian hid his face again.
--
They say that way for what felt like an eternity to the men, but could only be about half an hour. It was awkward, but even more so now that Chekov had completely fallen asleep, slumping against the doctor with his head on his chest.
The medic didn't move, mostly for fear of waking the young, tired boy up, and instead shifted so he was leaning against the wall, carding through the ensign's bouncing curls. The boy didn't stir, only moved a bit closer, savoring McCoy's warmth. The man suddenly felt a wave of pity for the boy.
He was well aware that the boy couldn't be happier on the Enterprise (he nearly /skipped/ down the halls on his first day), but he felt like the kid needed a childhood, a young adult-hood, something.
However, he was certain he didn't fit in at home.
He remembers all to clearly the first time he saw Chekov, and some sickening feeling told him he would never forget.
Chekov was clearly an outcast. The boy hardly knew enough English to get by, and he was young, much younger than everyone else. They had no respect for him, and the small boy was easily thrown about in the halls.
Still, McCoy watched from afar how they pushed and shoved, paying him no mind as they bustled along. One blink,and the curly-haired blonde had disappeared. No, he hadn't, he'd been pushed to the ground.
He vividly remember the people, laughing and kicking at him. He watched the young Russian, at the young age of sixteen(too young for this, Leonard though), begin to cry.
The poor boy was trying desperately not to make a scene as he stood, but he failed miserably. People snickered as he passed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve as he dragged on to his next lecture.
And still, everyday after that, Chekov walked not with confidence, but a twinkle of innocent hope in his eyes.
He was surprised to find that hope still in the boy after everything he'd been through. The Romulans, the Khan incident, and still the boy walked through the halls with a smile on his face and that bright eyed-ness that made the doctor want to wrap him up in a blanket and tote him off to some remote place with remedial adorableness, so he didn't have to be brave. Even though he knew that wasn't what the Russian was about.
McCoy was stirred out of his daydreams by the elevator jerking to life, going down the last half-floor necessary to get to the cabins.
The doctor had half a mind to stand, but stopped then he remember the Ensign. He glanced up and down at the skinny boy, before shaking his head and scooping the boy up. His cabin, of course, was at the end of the hall. It vaguely occurred to him that he'd lifted weights heavier than the boy and promised himself that he would drag him off to Medbay tomorrow and run his vitals to make sure he actually passed his physic.
--
The ensign's room was mussed but tidy enough, a few uniforms littering the floor. He stepped over them and set the snoozing blonde onto bed, his attention drawn to a picture frame on the bedside table.
In the picture it was snowing, at least a foot, McCoy guessed. The people in the picture were bundled into jackets and fur hats. Among them was a beaming toddler, who looked excited to be where he was despite the cold.
The young Chekov stood next to a man about the Russian's age now, and was holding the hand of a woman just as young.
McCoy inwardly groaned. So his whole family had been jailbait.
What looked like the rest of Chekov's family was there, too. A blonde woman who was larger than Chekov and his parents was beaming at him from under a fur headband. A young man that could've been Chekov's twin now stood near the end of the line. No, he couldn't be Chekov's twin. His eyes had no hope.
He looked up when the boy stirred, hurriedly setting down the photo. The boy didn't open his eyes, but put out his arms like a child reaching for his parent.
McCoy bit his lip, unsure of how to proceed. /What the hell,/ he thought, toeing off his shoes and climbing under the covers with the Russian. The boy curled up next to the doctor, who hesitantly wrapped his arms around him. The ensign bundled himself into his embrace, his head on Leo's chest and their feet tangled together. Chekov had somehow managed to kick his shoes and socks off without fully waking up.
For some reason, Bones felt quite content to be there. It felt nice, holding such a young and fragile thing in his arms.
But it couldn't be love. That was impossible.
Leonard McCoy never /loved/ anything in his life. He'd had a few meaningless flings, but he'd always been perfectly content to spend the rest of his days on the Enterprise, patching up the Captain and his friends. Bur now. Now it seemed like everything he'd ever thought had been thrown out the door by this do-gooding clever Russian boy.
--
When McCoy opened his eyes, he was first surprised to find that he had fallen asleep. He was also surprised to find Chekov next to him, trying to poke him awake. His head was still on his chest. "Sir?"
McCoy squinted at the bright, artificial light that hadn't been on when he first came in. "I'm awake," He grumbled, rolling onto his back and stretching. Chekov smiled, arching his back and smiling at the satisfying popping noises.
"Good morning, sir." Chekov said, rubbing his eyes and running his hands through his hair, mussing his up even more so that it had been before.
McCoy slowly remembered the excitement of the night before and his eyes widened considerably. "Uh, sorry. I didn't mean to stay. You just sort of out out your arms, and-"
"I understand completely, doctor. Forgive me, I vas very tired and you made quite a good pillow," He added, heat rising to his face again.
"So I've been told," He said, rolling over. The picture frame spiked his curiosity again, and he pointed to it.
"What's this?" He asked.
Chekov brightened almost instantly, and he reached around the doctor to pick it up. "Thees is my family. I still lived in Mother Russia then, I vas very young. Those are my parents, and my aunt Ava, and zat is my cousin." He said, pointing out people in the photo.
"He looks like you," McCoy said, looking down at Chekov and smiling. Chekov shook his head, not looking away from the frame.
"Don't be silly." He said, pointing at him still. "His hair is darker. And he has big nose."
The doctor laughed, suddenly conscious of his arms around the Russian's shoulder. "But other than that-"
"He's very unpleasant. He teased me as a child."
Leo paused, before before nodding. "For what?" He asked quietly.
"Lots of things. I skipped a few grades when I vas young. He didn't take very kindly to not being the smartest child." He replied, shrugging.
"I'm sorry," The other replied softly.
"It is not your fault. I didn't not belong there."
Bones sobered. It seemed that he didn't belong in a anywhere.
"But I belong here, on ze Enterprise," Chekov said, interrupting his thoughts.
"Is that what you think?" Bones asked before he could stop himself.
Chekov stared at him. "Of course." He said, nodding.
Bones felt another wave of sympathy. As nice as the tin can was, nobody wanted to call it their only home. But he couldn't bring himself to crush Chekov's dreams. "Uh, right kid."
McCoy stood, stretching, and looked down at the boy. "I'm taking you to Medbay." He said.
Chekov frowned, sitting up. "Vhy?" He asked.
"Because you're dead skinny. It's not healthy."
Chekov stood, stretching his back. "I assure you I am perfectly fine, doctor."
Bones shook his head. "No. I'm taking you to Medbay." He argued.
"I admire your dedication," Chekov said, accepting defeat. "Just let me change."
MyCoy nodded, and then left to go change himself.
--
Chekov opened his door moments later, hoping to slip onto the bridge and avoid Medbay altogether. However, Bones was there, leaning against the wall. "Where are you headed?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
The young boy shrugged. "Oh, I vas..going to meet you in Medbay." Chekov stuttered.
McCoy nodded. "Sure." He said, rolling his eyes as he straightened.
Chekov rolled his eyes, before walking behind the doctor towards Medbay.
McCoy had to admit he was surprised when he felt Chekov catch his hand in his as they walked.