New Fic: Bearfoot

[jackwabbit]

Bearfoot

Fandom: Star Trek Discovery
Rated: G
Category: Double Drabble. Culmets. RickyVerse. Fluff. Humor. Mild Hurt/Comfort.
Time Frame: Open, but likely S3 or later due to one character mention and the state of Culmets.
Spoilers: None/General Series Knowledge Only.
Summary: Shoes have their drawbacks, but they really were a wonderful invention.
Note: Another Ricky story, because I just can’t help myself.

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Hugh gave his partner a stern look.

“Would you sit still?”

Paul sighed.

“I’m trying.”

A raised eyebrow was Hugh’s only response.

“Not very hard.”

Paul glared.

“That hurts.”

Hugh’s expression softened, as did his movements.

“Sorry. That better?”

Paul giggled.

“No! Now it tickles!”

Now it was Hugh’s turn to sigh.

“I can’t win with you.”

Paul shrugged.

“That’s probably true.”

Hugh rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. But seriously, what were you thinking?”

Paul ducked his head and looked up at Hugh through his eyelashes.

“Um… I wasn’t?”

Hugh put a hand to his chest in mock astonishment.

“I’m going to tell Reno you said that.”

Paul’s eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t.”

Hugh’s look was shrewd.

“Oh, I might. If you don’t sit still.”

Paul’s glare returned, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Fine. Do your worst.”

Hugh grinned.

“Oh, I will.”

And so Hugh did. Fortunately, his worst was also his best, and before long, every one of the many splinters in Paul's foot was removed. Paul didn't say another word, and he managed to stay  mostly still, too. Of course, he has help. For tucked securely under those crossed arms, intermittently squeezed harder than usual, was Ricky.

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A/N: I’ll let you decide what Paul did here, but I’ll tell you how it happened to me…

When I was nine years old, perhaps ten, I was playing with a group of other kids. We were, for some unknown reason, climbing on one end of a picnic table, running the length of it, and jumping off the other end. Then we’d loop around and do it again. During one of my turns at whatever this thing was, I’d started my run when another kid ran in front of me, across the jump landing area. I put on the brakes as fast as I could so as not to nail this kid. I managed to stop. I didn’t hit them. But the picnic table was old. And it was made of wood. And I was barefoot. My dad must have pulled a hundred splinters out of my feet that day. So this one, I guess, is for my dad. Oh, and you’re welcome, kid who ran in front of me. I’m pretty sure you got the better end of the deal.