Chapter Text
In theory, Ben knewwhat it would be like being a Starfleet officer’s husband the day he proposed. He knew that he would always come second to Hikaru’s mission and was well aware of the toll that having his husband far away from him for all but maybe a month of the year would take. But since the day he and Hikaru had met, he had known that he would never be with anybody else- not in the fleeting but violent way some men say they will marry someone within minutes of meeting them, but in a quiet, certain way; he knew it the same way he knew which way was “down”.
Precision was in Ben’s nature, and he would always remember the moment where Hikaru walked into his little “shop” in what used to be the Castro district in San Francisco. The clock by the door read 11:51 am and the Stardate was 2256.30.
Hikaru had placed an antique watch down on the counter. “Are you the one who repairs antiques?” he had asked.
“The very same. What can I do for you?”
“This watch… it belonged to my great-grandfather, and it’s just not keeping time anymore. Nearly nobody knows how antique clockwork works these days, is there any chance that you could fix it?”
Ben usually worked on museum pieces, but watch mechanisms were simple enough. These issues were usually battery related, and he had a number of solutions to keep even old lithium batteries running for years on end.
“I should be able to, it’ll take a couple of hours is all.”
For the first time in the conversation, he actually looked up from the watch. His shortsighted gaze was met with the steady and self-assured look of a Starfleet Cadet in full uniform. Years later, he would come to resent that uniform and all that it represented for him. But on that day, he was nothing other than charmed.
“Well, it’s nearly lunch time,” Hikaru had said. “How about we get lunch and you can start work later?”. As he said these words he leaned on the counter with his elbows, bringing his face a mere foot from Ben’s own. He would later realise that this was an unusually bold move for Hikaru. But on that day, he simply touched the back of his neck and somehow managed to croak out something that sounded like “that sounds great”.
Ben had known two contradictory facts from that very first lunch (where, with a couple glasses of light prosecco, the conversation began flowing smoothly). Ben knew that Sulu was a starship pilot and that he was going to start a mission on the flagship of the Fleet two weeks from that day. He also knew that he was going to spend the rest of his life with this man. He could wait on Earth, he thought. He didn’t often have a boyfriend anyway, so it wouldn’t change much. He had his watches, and he would be able to look forward to seeing Sulu.
Four weeks from that day, Ben was miserable . It had been two weeks since he’d seen Hikaru and he was already close to losing it every day. The intricate mechanisms that he spent his days restoring suddenly seemed too small. His shop cramped him and he found himself going for more and more frequent walks.
When he came back from one such walk, he saw a package on the front step. No postmark or anything. He had no reason to suspect a bomb, not in the 23d century. So he opened the cardboard packaging and found a terracotta plant pot filled with soil and a small packet of seeds, plus a note.
“Ben,
These are quick-growing Deltan Fern seeds. Place them an inch under the soil and water them once every day in the evening. If you need help, send me a message. In fact, even if you don’t need help, send me a messsage. I miss you.
Xx
Hikaru”
Ben felt the corners of his lips curl upwards. He carefully placed the note under his work mat and began to tend to the future fern.