jackwabbit | New Fic: Finders Keepers

Finders Keepers

Fandom: Star Trek Discovery
Rated: G
Category: Culmets. Angst with a Happy Ending. Established Relationship.
Word Count: 851.
Season: Three.
Spoilers: General series knowledge only – through season three.
Summary: In which Hugh is a finder, but is not quite sure if he’s a keeper.
Note: I’m dedicating this one to AP, for reasons I’d rather not share here. Also, thanks to the Spaceboos Discord for the writing sprint that produced this. That was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.

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Hugh found them when he was looking for a sock. One that had somehow gone missing even though its fellow was right where it was supposed to be.

He heard the rustle and cocked his head to one side, trying to figure out what could possibly be making a noise like that in Paul’s sock drawer.

But nothing he imagined prepared him for the reality of what he found. Truth, he thought, suddenly really did seem stranger than fiction.

Because right there in his hands, not only completely real, but on actual paper, was a contract.

There were several pages, written in the verbose language that was still so prevalent in law, even in the twenty-third century. And every one of them had two lines in the lower right hand corner, one of which clearly bore the initials “PS”. And then there was the last page. The one with the longer lines across the bottom. The one Paul had signed.

Hugh stared at Paul’s name as he slowly took a step back from the still open sock drawer and sat on the edge of the bed. That’s where Paul found him a moment later, when he came barging in from the other room.

“Did you find it yet? I’m telling you, just…”

Paul’s voice trailed off as he took in Hugh’s posture and what was in his hand. He froze and his shoulders dropped. The animation he’d been so full of left him and he licked his lips slowly.

“Hugh…”

Hugh looked up and met Paul’s eyes, the slightest sheen of tears in his own.

“Is this what I think it is?”

Paul swallowed and then took a big breath in and out. Then he nodded.

“Yes.”

Hugh broke eye contact and stared at the papers again. He pressed his lips together and nodded back.

“I see,” he said after a moment.

Paul shook his head. “No. You don’t.”

Hugh looked up again and snorted. He gave Paul an almost challenging look.

“Seems pretty simple to me,” he muttered, setting the papers aside on the bed and focusing on the floor between his feet.

There was a long pause before Paul spoke again.

“It was after you came back.”

Hugh gave him a confused look. “What?”

Paul took a hesitant step toward Hugh. “Like, right after.”

Hugh continued to stare at Paul for a minute. Then he blinked and realization bloomed across his face.

“Oh,” he said.

Now it was Paul’s turn to scoff. “Yeah. Oh.”

Hugh subtly shook his head. “I… I didn’t…”

Paul didn’t let him finish the thought.

“Forward motion, remember?” said Paul, a hardness coming into his eyes.

Hugh looked as if he was about to cry in earnest now.

“Paul, I…” Hugh looked lost for words, and he trailed off.

Paul sighed, and the anger that had suddenly come on left him. “I know. We were a mess.”

Hugh nodded in agreement.

“Still,” he said, “You had these made up? On paper, even? And signed them?”

“Obviously,” said Paul, gesturing to the discarded contract.

“But you don’t still…”

Paul interrupted, eyes wide. “No! Hell no! Hugh, I…”

Paul took another step toward Hugh, and Hugh met him halfway, standing and opening his arms.

Paul collapsed into Hugh’s arms and suddenly both men were crying.

“I’m so sorry,” murmured Hugh.

“It’s okay,” said Paul in between sniffles. “I’m sorry too. I just thought you wanted…”

“I know. I get it.”

And nearly as quickly as they started, the tears were gone, but neither Hugh nor Paul let go. They stayed like that a long time, standing at the foot of their bed, holding one another. Finally, Hugh spoke again. His words were nearly lost in Paul’s neck, but Paul still understood.

“But why did you keep them?”

Paul shrugged. Then he let go of Hugh and sat down on the bed, pulling Hugh with him so that they were sitting side by side.

“I don’t know. At first, maybe, I thought this was too good to be true,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of them. “And then, honestly, I forgot they were there.”

Hugh nodded, then sniffed, then looked Paul dead in the eye.

“Can we get rid of them now?”

The vulnerability in Hugh’s eyes nearly undid Paul, but he managed to nod.

“Yes,” he whispered, not breaking eye contact.

And that’s just what they did. A moment later, the divorce decree was reclaimed for other purposes.

A moment after that, a message to Tilly canceled the plans they’d had for the evening.

And ten minutes after that, they were snuggling under a shared blanket on the couch, where they talked for hours. They talked about everything and nothing and some very important things that they previously hadn’t talked about. And finally, eventually, they slept – together.

----

They never did find the sock. They also never threw out the single one or replicated its match. That wasn't really on purpose. It was just life. But if coming across the loner loose in one of their drawers sometimes made them smile, that was just a bonus.

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A/N: I find it comforting that socks would still go missing in Star Trek and that Paul and Hugh would have mismatched ones just like I do. Also, I read a lot about Paul’s insecurities, but rarely see Hugh’s portrayed. They’re there. And Paul has every reason to consider officially severing himself from Hugh in the latter part of season two. (Despite the very conflicting ideas in cannon and such, their relationship is official in my world and still mostly was at that time and nothing you can say will change my mind.) So this idea has been gallivanting around in my plot bunny pasture for a while. So here we are. Finally. Again, thanks to the Spaceboos Discord for making me get it down on paper, so to speak. Oh, and speaking of paper, the history of paper in Trek is… odd. But I went with it here for effect and also because it seems a thing one might do for big deal type contracts, to make them a little harder to actually do, if that makes sense. Same thing with the initialing of pages. I know it’s already mostly outdated, but whatever. Anyway. Artistic license and all that. *grin*