New Fic: Bearly Noticeable

[jackwabbit]

Bearly Noticeable

Fandom: Star Trek Discovery
Rated: G
Category: Culmets. RickyVerse. Fluff. Established Relationship.
Word Count: 831
Time Frame: Any.
Spoilers: General Series Knowledge Only.
Summary: Paul and Hugh have very particular skill sets, and sometimes, things are not as they seem.
Note: Another Ricky story, because I just can’t help myself.

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Hugh stared at the wound, head tilted to one side and eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

It had been treated already, and he’d recognize that neat stitching anywhere.

So it wasn’t the repair that puzzled him.

It was the injury.

A full avulsion of the pinna was rare.

Still, there it was, right in front of him. It was expertly repaired, and to anyone else, it was probably barely noticeable. But to him, it was still obvious.

When his brain couldn’t come up with an explanation for the wound after another full minute of staring at it, he gave up and called for help.

“Paul?”

An absent-minded voice answered him from the bedroom.

“Yeah?”

“What happened to Ricky?”

Paul wandered into the living room and frowned at Hugh as he sat next to him on the couch.

“What do you mean?”

Hugh gave Paul a look.

“His ear’s torn off.”

Paul looked offended. “Not anymore it isn’t.”

Hugh snorted. “Granted. But ‘not anymore’ does imply that it was, in fact, torn off.”

“Hmmmm,” said Paul, nodding. “I see your point. It was indeed.”

“How?” asked Hugh, still baffled.

“Well...” drawled Paul.

Hugh raised his eyebrows at Paul, urging him to continue.

Paul sighed. “You see...”

He got no further before trailing off and twisting his fingers together.

“Paul,” said Hugh, getting Paul’s attention and ending his fidgeting.

Paul sighed again, heavier this time.

“Fine. I didn’t want to say anything. But someone,” said Paul, poking Hugh in the shoulder, “constantly rubs that ear when he’s stressed and it had taken its toll.”

Hugh stared at Paul for a long moment, then shook his head lightly.

“I didn’t rip Ricky’s ear off!”

“No,” said Paul, drawing out the word like he was talking to a child. “But you had worn it nearly completely through. And the one edge did come loose. I tried to fix it, but the fabric was too frayed to hold the stitching. So I fabricated a new ear and replaced it. Okay?”

Hugh bristled at Paul’s tone initially, but by the time Paul was finished, he was softly smiling. He shook his head again, this time in wonder.

“Only you,” he said.

Now it was Paul’s turn to be puzzled.

“What?”

Hugh chuckled. “Only you would do that.”

Paul shrugged. “I couldn’t let you destroy the poor little guy’s whole ear.”

“I wouldn’t have...”

Paul pointedly cleared his throat.

Hugh sighed. “Okay. So I would’ve.”

“Yeah, you would’ve.”

Hugh shrugged.

“What can I say? It’s a nervous habit.”

Paul leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Yeah, well, as nervous habits go, it’s a pretty harmless one. And you have me to patch Ricky up, so I’d say it’s alright.”

Hugh nodded.

“Better than alright,” he said, inspecting Paul’s work again.

Paul shrugged. “It’ll do.”

“It’ll more than do, Paul, and you know it. I mean, it’s perfect. I can’t even tell the ear is new.” Hugh suddenly regarded Paul with suspicion after flipping the ear back and forth a few times.

Paul gave him a wary look. “What?”

Hugh narrowed his eyes further. “You calculated algorithms for fabric aging and programmed them into the synthesizer, didn’t you?”

Paul looked taken aback. “Of course I did!”

Hugh laughed, and a moment later, Paul joined him.

When they settled down, Hugh beamed at Paul.

“I love you.”

Paul chuckled. “You better.”

Hugh kissed Paul and his smile grew.

“Always,” he mumbled. Then he leaned back and looked at Ricky again.

“But seriously, Paul. You’re good at this. The sewing, I mean.”

“Better than you, anyway,” Paul answered, giving Hugh a gentle push.

“Hey, I’m a doctor, not a tailor.”

“Thank goodness.”

Hugh rolled his eyes. “That’s what dermal regenerators are for.”

“Uh huh,” said Paul. “And if it’s out of power? Or broken? Or you don’t have one?”

“What is this? Survival training?”

“You never know.”

“You know I can suture if I have to.”

“So you should be able to sew.”

“It’s not the same and you know it,” groused Hugh.

Paul grinned and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I know, I know,” he said. “I’m just teasing.”

“Well, stop it,” said Hugh, pulling Ricky to his chest and pouting like a little kid.

Paul’s grin turned soft.

“Alright. Okay. Come here.”

He pulled Hugh toward him. Hugh didn’t resist and ended up laying on the couch with his head in Paul’s lap.

As Paul slowly stroked Hugh’s hair, Hugh relaxed. After a few moments, he fell asleep. Paul picked up a PADD and started to read, content to let Hugh nap.

And when Hugh woke a short time later, he was content to let Ricky fall to the floor when he made his way to bed, but the day would come when he’d again need company when he started to fidget without even realizing it.

But it’d be ok.

Because Ricky would be there for Hugh.

And Paul would be there for Ricky.

-----

A/N: This one is brought to you by the t-shirt repair I did yesterday. After a decade of teaching myself to sew, I’m finally getting halfway decent at it. But I did pucker the fabric a bit. I nearly always do. I generally do not pucker my incisions, though, and if I do, the body generally forgives me. It heals. Fabric doesn’t do that. It is far less forgiving in many ways. So while someone told me, years ago, that if one can suture, one can sew, that someone was wrong. Those are two different skill sets indeed. And my headcanon is that only one of the Culmets duo can sew, like the old-fashioned dirt and soil kind of guy he is. And that ain’t Hugh. Obviously.

Also, this one is for my mother. Who opened the cranium of my best teddy bear when I was in college and turned him inside out to wash him by hand, then restuffed him and sewed him back up. Pinky can still sit up again, more than twenty years later, because of her work. Thanks, mom.