A/N: I wrote this a while ago, but never posted it because I thought it was kinda stupid. But I came across it today while looking through files and thought eh, why not? Takes place after the events of Star Trek Beyond and Jaylah has graduated from the academy in record time at the top of her class (because she would totally do that) and now serves on the Enterprise. I still ship Jaylov, but more platonically than romantically, although the thought of them being a thing is pretty entertaining. :)

The Smoosh

Rated K+

Being a crewmember aboard the newly rechristened Enterprise definitely had its perks, but time wasn't one of them. It was a rare and beautiful moment when the two could slip into the wiry, labyrinthine undergrowth of engineering together. More often than not, when even the slightest opportunity presented itself, it was taken without question. Forget about taking a breather or grabbing lunch. There were more important matters to attend to, such as deliberating advanced transporter theory and the various difficulties that arose when one's native language was something other than Federation Standard.

Today, between the socket wrenches and the soldering and the endless grease, they had about five minutes to choose a topic and wring out every possible drip of stimulating conversation. Strangely, though, something about this particular escapade felt off and Chekov couldn't quite pinpoint it. Something had…changed. He could tell by her unusually distant air and pursed lips that Jaylah could feel it too.

Nevertheless, the couple made the now familiar journey through the wires, bulkheads and beams to the tiny nook they'd happened upon a month or so earlier. It was nothing special, just a gap between one set of pipes and the next, but perfect for cultivating a budding friendship without interruption.

Just as they had many times before now, they each took a seat on the floor and leaned back on their respective pipes. Normally, this was where the two would fall effortlessly into deep discussion and remain oblivious to the rest of the world until they were compelled to rejoin it. Today, however, neither seemed to want to begin the conversation.

Jaylah suddenly became engrossed with the nails of one hand while Chekov drew his knees up under his chin, wrapped his arms around them and surveyed their surroundings. They were nothing he nor Jaylah had never seen before and, to be honest, were pretty uninteresting.

This was how they sat for a good thirty seconds before Chekov finally forced a small cough and shifted position.

"I, um…" he started.

"Yes, well…" Jaylah said at the same time.

"Wery sorry, you go first—"

"No, I—what is it that you wanted to say, Pavel Chekov?"

"Oh, n-nothing, I was just going to—did you need to tell me some—"

The two froze, abruptly realizing that they were now sitting much closer than before the awkward exchange. If he wanted to, he could reach out and touch her hand, but why in the galaxy would he ever want to do a thing like that? It made no sense. And yet…

He blinked up, catching a yellow glint as Jaylah did the same. And then, very slowly, her grimy, grease-smudged hand moved toward his, fingers wrapping firmly around it. A tiny, hopeful smile flickered on her lips and Chekov couldn't help but return it.

"Pavel Chekov, I…" she started quietly, then shook her head.

"What? You can tell me, it's okay." He already knew, but he needed to hear it anyway. He needed to hear it from her. Maybe then it would feel real.

Encouraged, she took a breath. "I think I have…a feeling for you. Many feelings, actually."

"Y-you do? I mean…I think I do too—I mean, I hef a feeling—uh, feelings—for you, not for myself…"

She gave a small laugh, scooting a tiny bit closer. "I know what it is you meant."

They sat in silence for a moment, grinning as a radiating warmth thawed their previous stiffness. Then, as if they'd been together for years, Jaylah lowered her head until it was resting on his shoulder. In return, he did what only seemed natural, circling an arm around her back and drawing her in for a gentle kiss on the cheek…

To his surprise, Jaylah sat up immediately and turned to stare at him, head tilted to one side in what he hoped was utter confusion and not outright disgust.

"Are…are you all right, Jaylah?"

"Pavel Chekov…why did you place your lips on my face?"

Mortified, Chekov withdrew like a startled squirrel up a tree. "I—oh, no. Oh, no, I am so sorry, Jaylah! I got caught up in ze moment and I just—too fast. Don't hurt me, please!"

"I would never hurt you! Why would someone putting their lips on my face make me wish to hurt them?"

Chekov's entire countenance burned as he reached up and took a handful of his hair in a fist. "Ayy-yi-yi…uh…let me try to explain. Zat…zat was a kiss."

"A kiss?"

"Yes, when you…uh…smoosh your lips into another person's face…"

"'Smoosh'?"

"Never mind. A kiss is a…sign of affection."

Jaylah became thoughtful, then lit up with comprehension. "Oh! Like what the Dread Pirate Westly gave to the Princess Buttercup in that earth myth we viewed last week?"

Chekov nearly melted in relief. "Da! Yes! Exactly. Except he was just 'Westly' by then."

Her countenance fell back into confusion. "But…when you say 'affection', you refer to someone you care about."

"Yes."

"So…you give a kiss…to someone you care about? To show them that you care?"

"Um, well, it depends…"

"Does…does that mean I must kiss everyone I care about?" Her eyes widened. "Do I have to kiss Montgomery Scotty?!"

"No! No, no, no, please don't kiss Montgomery Scotty! Zat would be wery, wery weird on a lot of different levels."

"But…I care about him. I care about all of my friends."

Chekov took a steadying breath. "Okay, let me start over. Affection for friends is not ze same as…romantic affection. Same word, different connotations."

She rolled her eyes. "I hate this language. Too many meanings for one stupid word."

"I know how you feel," snorted Chekov, "but what I am saying is that a kiss is usually something zat you give to someone you hef romantic affection for. Strong feelings of more zan just friendship."

"Feelings of love."

"Yes, love."

Jaylah nodded. "Ah, I see now."

"Oh, good," he breathed. "Zat is good."

"But in the legend…" she went on, "the Dread Pirate Westly gave the Princess Buttercup a kiss on her lips. What does that mean?"

"Uh…" Chekov cleared his throat, "well, it means baaasically ze same thing, but ze feelings are much…deeper."

"True love. It is a sign of true love."

"Yes. And zat is why I am sorry, Jaylah. I got carried away by my own feelings and—"

"You do not have to be sorry, but I forgive you anyway."

"Th-thank…you?"

She thought a moment, leaving him hanging. "Pavel Chekov, will you smoosh your lips against mine as a sign of romantic affection?"

With a sigh of relief, Chekov practically melted into her. "I thought you would never ask."