New Fic: Wheelhouse

[jackwabbit]

Wheelhouse

Fandom: Star Trek Discovery
Rated: T
Category: Culmets. Established Relationship. Angst. Hurt/Comfort.
Word Count: 2248.
Season: Down the road a piece – doesn’t really matter when.
Spoilers: General Series Knowledge Only.
Summary: Wheelhouse – noun. A - baseball : the section of the strike zone where it is easiest for the batter to hit the ball well. B - an area that matches a person's skills or expertise. Paul and Hugh share a home. But their wheelhouses? Those are entirely different. (AKA, the one where Hugh strikes out, but Paul manages a home run eventually.)
Note: This one owes its existence to TUNiU, who commented on my story Ritual, saying: “And oh my god. The angsty pure h/c that he would be in their quarters all traumatized and Paul would have to hold him.” I took your comment and ran with it. Surprise! I hope it meets with your approval. Also, to lemonpiefirefly, again: thank you.

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As he crossed the threshold into their quarters, Paul immediately knew how Hugh’s day had gone.

The lights were on, but dimmed.

Hugh’s habitual tea was nowhere in sight. And the man himself was just sitting on the couch, still in full uniform, with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

Paul crossed the room and sat next to him, tentatively reaching out and then rubbing slow circles on Hugh’s shoulders.

“I take it it didn’t go well?” he asked.

Hugh sighed. “I failed.”

The space between Paul’s eyebrows developed a wrinkle and he blinked a few times. Hugh didn’t notice, as he was still examining the floor, but Paul looked lost in thought, like he was mulling over a particularly difficult problem and having a hard time coming up with the answer.

“You failed?”

Paul tried to keep the astonishment out of his voice, but he didn’t quite manage it. After all, this was Hugh Culber, his brilliant doctor who hardly ever had a hair out of place, much less failed at anything.

“Yeah,” replied Hugh, voice a broken whisper.

Paul sucked in a breath at the tone. This was the Hugh’s “I lost a patient in the worst possible way” voice. This wasn’t his “I had a setback and need to rethink this” voice.

“Hey,” Paul said, rubbing a little harder on Hugh’s shoulders, “it’s okay. You can try again… later… if you want.”

Hugh shook his head, hard.

“No.”

Paul found himself mirroring Hugh’s head shake, though his was subtler, slower, and more puzzled.

“Or not,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

Hugh sniffled – just once, and quietly, but Paul heard it loud and clear.

“Hey. It’s alright. You’re okay,” he said, starting to pull Hugh into a hug.

He made it only so far as to put one hand around Hugh’s body when Hugh lunged toward him with every bit of his not inconsiderable power.

Paul met the force head on. He pulled Hugh to his chest, wrapping his arms around him and immediately trying to soothe him.

“Shh. It’s okay. It’s no big deal. You weren’t even sure you wanted it, remember?”

Hugh nodded roughly against Paul’s shoulder, but he didn’t speak. Paul took his cue from Hugh and didn’t say anything else, either. He just continued to rub small circles over Hugh’s back until eventually, Hugh broke the silence on his own.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Paul’s lost look, which he’d had since shortly after he walked in the door, intensified. He pulled his arms back around to Hugh’s chest and tried to push Hugh back so that he could look at him, but Hugh didn’t allow this. He tightened his grip on Paul, making it clear he wasn’t ready to let go, and Paul’s confusion morphed slowly into anxiety. Whatever was wrong, it was no little thing.

“For what?” asked Paul, a tremor in his voice.

Hugh didn’t answer. He just shook his head again, and Paul felt a shiver run through Hugh’s entire body.

Paul let Hugh hold him for another minute, nearly exactly, then pushed at his chest again. This time, Hugh let himself be pushed backward just enough so that Paul could duck his head down and try to make eye contact.

“Why are you sorry, Hugh? What’s wrong?”

Despite Paul’s position, head at Hugh’s chin level and eyes looking up, Hugh wouldn’t look at him. He kept his eyes resolutely on his lap. Paul felt adrenaline hit his system. His heart thudded in his chest and his eyes widened. Anxiety fell by the wayside as fear took over.

“Hugh, talk to me,” said Paul.

And again, Hugh shook his head. “I can’t,” he muttered.

Paul took a shaky breath, then let it out in a rush as he felt the first fringes of panic setting in. He reached up and tipped Hugh’s chin upward, still chasing eye contact. And though he allowed Paul to lift his head, Hugh still didn’t look up – he focused on Paul’s chin, and Paul’s eyes widened even farther.

“What do you mean you can’t? You know you can tell me anything.”

And still Hugh stared at Paul’s chin in silence.

A long moment later, Paul repeated himself.

“Anything, Hugh,” he said, lower lip starting to tremble. His voice was brittle and strained, and the way his breath caught finally broke through to Hugh. His eyes snapped up to meet Paul’s, and the expression he saw there made his own eyes widen in shock.

“Paul?”

Paul nodded shakily. “Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?”

Paul stared at Hugh for a long moment, fear turning back into confusion and then into frustrated anger, before he lashed out.

“You tell me! You’re the one sitting here in the dark, acting like the world is ending! You’re the one who won’t tell me why!”

Hugh physically pulled back a little from Paul, started by his outburst. He blinked slowly a few times, then took a deep breath before taking Paul’s hands in his.

“It’s not personal,” he said.

Paul jerked his hands away. “Sure feels that way.”

Hugh sighed. “We’re not supposed to talk about it.”

“Talk about what?”

“The test.”

Paul’s nostrils flared and his eyes grew furious.

“This is about the test?!”

“Yeah,” said Hugh, nearly shrugging as if that was obvious.

“Fuck…” breathed Paul, anger leaving him as suddenly as it had come. He sagged back against the couch and brought his hands up to cover his eyes as he took several deep, ragged breaths.

Now it was Hugh’s turn to be confused.

“What else would it be about?” he asked.

Paul scoffed, but didn’t say anything as he continued to try to catch his breath.

After a moment, Hugh slowly reached out and grabbed Paul’s wrist, pulling one hand away from his eyes.

“Paul?”

Paul let Hugh take his hand and dropped his other hand to the couch next to him. His eyes were red-rimmed and shining with tears when he looked back at Hugh.

“I thought… I don’t know… that you were going to leave me… or...”

“What?”

“You wouldn’t talk to me. You always talk to me.”

A tear ran down Paul’s cheek. Hugh brushed it away.

“I’m not going to leave you. Never.”

Paul angled his head slightly to look at Hugh sidelong. The sliver of doubt that crept into his expression hit Hugh like a physical blow, and he repeated himself.

“Never.”

Paul’s doubtful expression didn’t lesson. If anything, it intensified.

“Paul,” said Hugh. “Never again.”

“You can’t promise that,” whispered Paul, old insecurities resurfacing.

Hugh sighed. “You’re right. I can’t. I think we both know that all too well. But I can promise you that we’re okay. We’re solid. And I will do everything in my power to keep us that way. Okay?”

He squeezed Paul’s hand as he spoke, and after a moment, Paul nodded. It was shaky and clumsy, but it was enough for Hugh to open his arms and give Paul a tentative look.

He didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. Paul nodded again, and Hugh pulled him into his arms, then held on as if his life depended on it.

Paul returned the gesture for a long moment, then whispered in Hugh’s ear.

“You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” said Hugh.

“It’s okay,” replied Paul. “You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you if you’re not ready. I’m sorry I pushed. It’s just…”

He trailed off, and Hugh released his hold on him.

“It’s just what?”

Paul looked down. “You said you were sorry. Not just now, I mean. I mean… earlier.”

Hugh bit his lower lip and nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

“That wasn’t an ‘I failed a test’ thing.”

“No,” said Hugh, shaking his head.

Paul gave Hugh a searching look.

“None of this is. Is it?”

Hugh looked down, and then up again to meet Paul’s eyes. Then he slowly shook his head. He was still biting his lip, and tears formed in his eyes. He was silent a long moment, then sniffed once and spoke.

“Can we go to bed?”

The apparent non-sequitur took Paul aback. He rocked back away from Hugh and stared at him for a minute before offering a small shrug.

“Yeah,” he said. “Okay. Sure.”

“I’m just ready for this day to be over,” said Hugh.

“Okay.”

Ten minutes later, teeth were brushed and uniforms were discarded in favor of pajamas. It didn’t escape Paul’s notice that Hugh dug out his old, blue, flannel ones rather than the regulation ones he usually wore.

Those were Hugh’s comfort PJs, and Paul knew it. He hadn’t seen them since Hugh had first moved back in, and their presence now was not comforting in the least for Paul.

But he didn’t bring up his concerns. He just turned down the blankets on his side of the bed and slid under them as Hugh did the same on his side.

No sooner did he lay down than Hugh reached for him and pulled him flush to his body. He cradled Paul’s head against his chest and gently kissed his hair.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again.

Paul didn’t respond this time, and his patience paid off a moment later. Here, in the dark and in their bed, Hugh could talk more easily.

“I did leave you,” he whispered.

Paul swallowed, but still said nothing. It had been a long time ago, but remembering that time still hurt.

“I left you, and I’m so, so sorry.”

“You weren’t yourself.”

“I know, but… still… I just… God, you’re amazing.”

Hugh pulled Paul upwards then while simultaneously repositioning himself so that he could kiss him. With hands on either side of Paul’s head, he kissed him chastely on the mouth, then proceeded to shower kisses all over Paul’s face.

Paul was so stunned by the sudden activity that he couldn’t speak, but Hugh was doing enough of that for both of them.

“You just… kept going. Did your job. Helped save all of us. You… and I… I couldn’t.”

Paul managed to get two words in when Hugh was kissing his forehead.

“Couldn’t what?

Hugh pulled back and looked into Paul’s eyes. There were still tears in his own, though none had fallen.

“My turn,” he said. “Don’t leave me, Paul. Promise you’ll talk to me if you ever even think it. I mean, I know there are things that are out of our control, but…”

“Why would I?” interrupted Paul, clearly confused. But if there was one thing Paul Stamets excelled at, it was making connections – especially where Hugh was concerned. So his puzzlement lasted only a moment. Then his eyes widened in shock. Then, slowly, comprehension dawned, and finally, anger flared.

“It’s a Kobayashi Maru situation, isn’t it?”

Hugh looked down and chewed the corner of his lower lip.

“Oh, Hugh,” said Paul, pulling him back into an embrace.

And that’s when the levee gave way.

A sob broke free and it all came out, regulations be damned. Hugh babbled like a child about how they’d presented him with what should’ve been an easy decision. How the death of one meant others would live and how that shouldn’t be a tough choice, but how he couldn’t bring himself to do it because even though he knew in his head it was right and even though patients sometimes died on him, it wasn’t the same to be directly involved in causing their death. How it wasn’t even Paul, but how it could’ve been and how Hugh couldn’t get that image out of his head. How he could barely breathe because of it, much less function. How, when he’d gotten back home, he’d realized that Paul had not only pushed on after his death (and then, worse, his resurrection and all that came after it) but how he’d saved them all, time and again, even though he must have been hurting so much. How, yes, he knew it was different because it’s not like Paul had ordered Hugh to his death or anything, but still. How he’d thought he could handle whatever they threw at him, because really, wasn’t that just triage? But how he’d been so, so wrong. How Paul was amazing and he’d never given him enough credit. And how he was just a stupid doctor and what had he been thinking when he’d agreed to take the bridge officer’s test? How failing the test wasn’t the issue, but the way in which he’d failed it was. And on and on it went, over and over and back and forth and nearly nonsensical.

And through it all, Paul held him.

He held him until he’d exhausted himself and even after he’d fallen into a fitful sleep.

And in the morning, he messaged Tracy and Tilly, telling them that barring a true emergency, they’d have to make do without them for the day.

Because while Hugh had been wrong about a lot of the things he’d rambled (he was not stupid, thank you very much), he was spot on about Paul’s ability to recognize what needed done and to do it – no matter what.

So Paul let Hugh sleep in. Then he bathed him –  literally washing away the night. There nothing sexual about it. That came much later. After they ate and read and talked and shared a hundred casual touches. And all of it boiled down to just one thing.

I’m here.

And that was enough.

It was always enough.

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A/N: The bridge officer’s test ideas used here are extrapolated from the TNG episode “Thine Own Self.” Also, I believe that anyone taking the test would have to sign something stating they would not give details of the test to others, as otherwise, would-be bridge officers would know more of what to expect, which would affect performance and results. Yes, I had Hugh break that oath – oops? But seriously, he’s never taking the test again and Paul likely either doesn’t have to, given his position already, or frankly isn’t interested, so it’s a minor crime. Also, again, that artistic license thing. You know how it is. *grin* Finally, the Kobayashi Maru test. I think it could have been around in this era in a way that Paul might have referenced it. I couldn’t find a definitive answer for when that test started being administered at Starfleet Academy, but Kirk “beat” it in “the 2250s”, so…while it may not have been around when the crew of the Discovery was at the academy, it may have been. There was a big to-do about Kirk being the first to beat it, so I can’t rule that out. Also, even if not, word gets around. Cadets talk. I’m just going with it, as this audience likely knows that term more than the “trolley problem,” which is actually what this is.