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Months: An Officer and a Gentle Man
This is the more intimidating sort of invitation. The fancy kind.
An evening ball.
Nothing to do with work, as far as he is concerned, Paul huffs. It’s just to make an ‘appearance’. To represent their research team on behalf of the investors. As utter waste of time as there ever was.
He could try and talk about work there, as he always does, but he’d just get back the usual “let’s not talk business tonight”. As he always does.
What else is there to talk? The work - the research itself and it’s funding - is all he’s known for years now.
Maybe he should just let Justin handle this. The invitation is for plus one too after all: the man could take Amelia with him. They love it at these events, when you come with a date. More ‘prey’ for them to try and drill for insignificant gossip and what ever the fuck “not business” constitutes as.
And usually Paul would do just that - pass this one on to Straal -, but there’s been this another aspect to these invitations lately: he’d miss a chance for a weekend with Hugh, if he didn’t go.
And that’s really not an option, is it? He’d be cranky the whole weekend knowing he could’ve been with the doctor. Next week too. And the next… depending when the chance to see the man would come again.
Paul will have to call and ask Hugh to be his actual date. To an event he himself doesn’t even care to attend. It doesn’t feel fair, when he knows he’ll likely be lousy company.
The event weekend definitely started wonderfully. Paul arrived to the venue hotel the day before, well in advance to check everything was in order and to settle in. He got some work done even - which always lifted his spirits - before Hugh joined him later that evening.
They seemed to both have had their minds tuned to the same frequency and ended up spending nearly whole of this time up until now locked up in their shared room, getting to know each other more intimately. Something, which Paul had never actually imagined he would be so keen to experience - not before Hugh anyway -, but which, it turned out, was utterly wonderful.
If Paul had a say, that would’ve been the whole weekend right there.
It isn’t however. This event is after all why he is supposed to be here in the first place.
Still, Paul should be feeling pretty damn good right now. Instead he’s somewhat wary, if this damn affair will ruin the otherwise nice weekend now. He just can’t shake the feeling, that this will be something dreary. Like these kind of occasions have always been before. And that alone is already dragging him down to this irate state of mind. He’d rather be anywhere else right now.
Coming to these functions is always as awkward too: if you don’t have any prior acquaintances to meet up with, there isn’t necessarily anyone to greet you. You’re just expected to saunter in - which always ends up feeling like you’re trespassing - and are then expected to act as if you’re actually coming there voluntarily - like you wouldn’t rather just turn away at the door and run away.
And once you’re in, then what…? Just stand there watching people mingle. Wait for someone, who thinks they know you to come harass you with either some irrelevant questions or worse yet, bore you with their own stories, expecting you to find them fascinating.
Paul’s not exactly thrilled to bring Hugh here to witness this. Couldn’t they just go back to their room, behind the locked doors?
At the entrance of the venue, there’s a sign for the event, which Paul pauses to take a look at, like it would actually interest him - he’s just stalling. Hugh’s ahead, already at the doorway of the banquet hall and ready to step in, but stops to wait. He smiles back at his reluctant 'escortee’ sympathetically and takes few steps back next to the man too busy studying the sign to really notice him.
“I’m not even on the poster”, Paul remarks once he sees Hugh next to him, “what am I doing here again?”
“You’re here to make a 'personal appearance’”, Hugh reminds, putting a hand on the sulking man’s shoulder, “it’s to give these people a chance to meet you as a person, not as some celebrated lecturer”. “It builds bonds between equals”.
“That is the least I want to do, to connect with any of these people on any personal level”, Paul grumbles.
“Even so, that is the goal - offer them a chance to see you as a person rather than some faceless expense. Give them some incentive to keep investing on your cause”.
Hugh takes Paul’s hand and eases his way towards the entrance. “Wouldn’t hurt you to try to enjoy some of it too, now that you’re here anyway”.
But this is just not the kind of thing he enjoys, Paul thinks.
They walk in and Paul is eager to head directly to the drinks table - to try and numb himself out a bit perhaps. But Hugh promptly stops him by holding on to Paul’s hand firmly - he’s seen where that could lead, with the man in this irate a state.
Hugh just stands there by the door for a while looking over the scene at the banquet hall. As if expecting something. All the while holding Paul’s hand 'hostage’.
The doctor then seems to spot something, throwing a subtle wide eyed look into the crowd as if recognizing someone.
Someone, who Paul feels he should know from somewhere previously, steps forward from the mass, “Doctor Stamets!” they greet excitedly, “how lovely you could make it!”
“Of course, of course”, Paul greets dutifully, shaking their hand, while hiding his reluctance and trying to recall them.
“Did I ever get the chance to thank you for your successful lecture?” Paul should know by now. “You were gone so quickly after the presentation”, they lament.
Ah, yes! They were the one, who arranged their Alpha Centaurian presentation. Hugh knew that? He attended the event, but only as a guest. Seems more likely they were just some promising looking 'random catch’ the man only happened to lure in.
“Not at all”, Paul feels more confident to answer now, but still has to feign any excitement over this encounter. “Successful”? Hardly. For the venue maybe, and that’s all that matters to them, right?
“And this is?” the 'Someone’ asks gesturing towards Hugh, who is suddenly standing a bit further away by Paul’s side - clearly trying to encourage his man to conduct the conversation.
“This”? Paul thinks. What the fuck is “this”? Cattle? Fuck, these people even talk of others like fucking property.
His irked mind is just looking for any excuse, isn’t it?
“Doctor Culber. Hugh”, Hugh steps in smiling to introduce himself, seeing from the expression on Paul’s face, that he is currently lost somewhere in his irrationally irritated mind-space, unsure how to answer. Or more likely: why must he.
“Pleasure to meet you”, Hugh greets.
“Pleasure”, the 'Someone’ replies smiling back.
Are they really not introducing themselves even still? Expecting both of the men to know them?
“Doctor? You’re a scientist too?” they ask, “part of the Stamets-Straal research?”
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t have the genius to such a vocation”, Hugh asserts, “Starfleet medical”, Hugh specifies pointing at the pin on his lapel.
“I see!” the Someone beams, “a doctor doctor!”
Paul rolls his eyes. Hugh sees this and throws a quick, fiercely disapproving look at him.
That… that was something new. Paul feels like they might’ve just reached another new level of familiarity here. Which in some sense surpasses the intimacy in bed even, he’s surprised to realize. Or is that exactly why that frown feels so different now, more 'fatal’ - because they know each other a bit more closely now?
But, “doctor doctor”, that’s the kind of doctor, that matters, right? Paul knows Hugh got it too: there’s a distinct amusement in “The” doctor’s eyes as he goes on with the interaction.
“How come you are not in your uniform then?” Someone asks and gestures towards the crowd, “many of you Starfleet seem to have chosen to come in dress uniform”.
“It’s not an official engagement for me”, Hugh explains, “I’m here as Dr. Stamets’ plus one tonight”.
“I say!”, Someone suddenly beams with new delight and turns to Paul with an admiring tone, “you’ve certainly done yourself well with this here: a doctor and an officer!”
Paul forces a faint smile, “don’t I know it”. The sentiment would actually be quite genuine, but it’s lost behind his current state of mind. He’s still not fully comfortable with this environment, and of Hugh being treated like a fucking prize animal.
Also what’s with the sudden awe, after hearing Hugh is infact his date. Proves his point of these vultures smelling new prey in the company their guests bring along. A chance for them to milk the new 'victim’ for gossip and other such nonsense without the fear of getting too cozy with 'the investments’ themselves. They too seem somewhat uneager to fully breach the 'class gap’ between the sponsors and the sponsored.
Which makes this circus all that more meaningless, Paul huffs to himself. He is so lost in his irk, he doesn’t really pay much attention to the scene itself anymore.
He has spotted a tray of drinks travelling among the crowd, and gestures them to be brought over. Anything will do for now.
When he finally comes back to it, with a drink in his hand, there seems to be a whole lot of other people gathered around them as well. Where did they come from. Why? Suddenly it seems like they are in the center of the most of the crowd in the room.
“Vulcan, surely”, Paul hears Hugh converse with a group of people in the crowd.
“Really? Interesting”, an answer comes, “I’ve only ever really gotten to know Cardassian in any detail myself”. “Wrote a paper on it in the Academy”.
“But that’s impressive!” Hugh replies, comped with a group of agreeing nods and hums from the swarm around him.
Paul just turned his back for a minute and already the man seems to have gathered himself quite the following.
“Oh, please. It was years ago, and on a very limited subject in the grand scope”, the conversation drags on, “What is there on Vulcans I should know about, what do you think?”
“You must have heard of Koss, right”, Hugh suggests, and the 'groupies’ nod amongst themselves.
“Yes, yes. Of course. But I never got familiar".
“There’s a great, extensive collection on his works on the Academy’s public archives. It was curated by an Earth professor, whose name I now forget, but it showcases the designs with great cultural appreciation, and makes comparisons to other societies as well. Like the Cardassians”, Hugh goes on explaining in length.
Paul has no idea, what this is about, and doesn’t really care either, but just observes the pattern of the group behavior on display as the crowd gathers around, each trying their best to take part in the discussion. They are however really having a genuine conversation, aren’t they? Hugh is mixing in so well - better than Paul ever has, or perhaps ever could. He just doesn’t care enough.
The “doctor doctor” on the other hand seems so natural with all of this, including people in the exchange, actually paying attention to what they say. He’s not faking it. He doesn’t need to: he’s actually interested.
It’s makes Paul feel a bit better with bringing Hugh along: to see him at least enjoy his time.
“What else is there to you, Dr. Culber?” some in the crowd seem eager to get to know the good doctor better. Should Paul be worried?
“How do you like opera?” a stray question from the group catches Paul’s ear. He hopes the chuckle he just made wasn’t in fact audible, but only in his head. This figure had just hit the fucking mother lode.
Paul downs his drink and immediately goes on to eye around for the tray again.
As the banter goes on, the group slowly find their way to the tables and Paul hasn’t even had to open his mouth to try and keep up some dreary conversation. Occasionally someone will pat him on the back like they were some long time buddies, maybe congratulate him on their research efforts - if they know who he is - and thank him for bringing his delightful date along.
Every once in a while Hugh will also turn to smile at him, to make sure to show, that Paul is not being forgotten. It’s bit unnerving however, how most of the eyes in the crowd will shift on Paul as well, following Hugh’s gaze. No doubt questioning, how is this unassuming pale creature standing by the side so exceptional as to warrant special attention from the handsome doctor. Something Paul himself still wonders too - and feels he probably always will.
Maybe the doctor is trying to encourage him to join in on the conversation too, but Paul doesn’t have a thing to contribute - he’ll only smile back and gesture with his facial cues for Hugh to carry on. He’s just fine observing the man work the crowd: see him relish the company and the attention he’s getting. He’s never seen the man shine quite like this before.
Paul could get used to this actually. But better not: it is still fucking waste of time, he insists.
The atmosphere in the banquet hall is slowly starting to calm down after the ceremonies of speeches and dining, when the lights suddenly dim and the music shifts tone. To the slow, sappy kind.
This would usually be the sign for Paul to start preparing for calling it a night by making his round of excuses around the tables.
Now he’s wary that might not be. Hugh had asked specifically, if there would be dancing, so he knew this was coming.
And as if on cue, Hugh nudges him with his elbow, making a certain knowing look towards him.
“I told you, I don’t really dance”, Paul mumbles quietly, careful to try and not alert other people at the table. Which is hard, when Hugh is very much in the attention of much of the company still.
Paul had promised though - kinda. He didn’t say no.
“C'mon. You don’t dance or you’ve never really tried?” Hugh smiles encouragingly, “it’s not hard”.
Hugh leans closer to speak quietly so Paul alone can hear, “that’s the point of the slow ones: you just lean on me”.
Paul does like the sound of that. But still, going there in front of all these people doesn’t seem too appealing. Maybe wait till there’s others there. More mass to get lost into… Wait, what? Paul suddenly feels a tug as Hugh grabs his hand firmly. The doctor rises from his chair and starts heading for the floor. They’re going right now? Oookay? Paul drops the napkin from his lap to the chair and tries to keep up with Hugh’s pace, to make it at least look like he isn’t just getting dragged there.
“The hell, Hugh?” Paul hisses as they reach the floor.
“Oh, shut up, grouch”, Hugh hushes, positioning Paul’s free hand on his shoulder, “or would you rather wait till someone else came asking first? Cause I’d accept.”
Point made. They would, wouldn’t they.
“People are watching”, Paul whispers irately.
But still instinctively starts to slowly sway along with Hugh.
“Of course they are. We make a fetching couple”, Hugh acknowledges confidently, ignoring the sulk, “You better get used to it”.
“What if I won’t”, Paul grumbles, “I don’t think I like it”.
“Then you’ll just have to keep being the crabby fart that you are, I guess”, Hugh laughs at the stark contrast between this petulant grump and the unabashedly cocky man, who had greeted him with a showy kiss in the hotel lobby yesterday.
Paul’s irk eases a bit to the sound of Hugh’s laughter; it’s hard to keep mad with someone right here pressed against oneself, enjoying their time so. Or while swaying to such mellow music.
“And you won’t mind?” Paul suddenly feels sorry for being such poor company for his charismatic date.
“That you’re a fart?” Hugh teases, “Not at all”, he then smiles reassuringly, “We wouldn’t be here now, if your tendency for defensive dickishness in public was an issue. I would never have given you that second chance, if that was the case”.
Hugh seems to be reading him way too easily. And Paul didn’t even realize, but he had been given a second chance, hadn’t he?
“Why did you?” Paul asks, genuinely befuddled, “How do I deserve any of this?” “Any of you?” Paul’s hand is playing with the front of Hugh’s shirt, recalling all the wondrous places his touch had been to just earlier today.
“How do you not?” Hugh attempts to throw Paul out of his self-involved mind-space into a more advantageous, general view point, “everybody deserves happiness, Paul”. “I happened to saw someone, who seemed they desperately needed it, and who I hoped could maybe give it to me as well”.
“What? You mean like…”, Paul isn’t quite sure on what level this conversation is on right now.
“I mean I saw the real man behind your immature bullshit, Paul”, Hugh puts it in the terms the man would understand, “I saw the inspired, hopeful and driven man with seemingly immense inner beauty, and such vulnerability it had to be protected by this rude facade”.
“And thus far, you’ve proven my suspicions right - there’s a whole world within that gentle mind I want to keep witnessing”.
Hugh’s deeply earnest words come sudden and unexpected, and Paul isn’t quite sure how to reply. He finds himself overcome with the newly found excitement again: he would love to just throw the man down and kiss him till exhaustion. However, he’s still very much aware of where they are right now, and it’s making him feel rather uncomfortable for these thoughts.
“Be happy I was there for your lecture, or you wouldn’t have stood half a chance with your shitty attitude alone”, Hugh then adds, bringing the mood back to a level Paul might be more comfortable with given the circumstances.
Paul just then realizes he might have “Someone” to thank for more than he could have imagined. Much more. In the light of this new revelation the lecture had indeed been a fucking triumphant success.
“Or maybe a bit of a chance…”, Hugh adds after a beat, “for fun”, he rolls his eyes with a playfully coyish smile, “you weren’t bad on the eyes after all”.
Wait, really? The sudden thought of Hugh just 'jumping him’ on sight sounds… foreign, yet surprisingly exciting. Though Paul himself probably wouldn’t have known how to respond to such advances anyway.
Paul has kept awfully quiet during all of this. Which is not unusual given the emotions discussed. However the man is still reacting to all of it with his ever telling facial cues. And now to this latest, unexpectedly stirring thought, Hugh can surely see what for Paul constitutes for blushing as well: furrowing his brows to a stern look to try and prevent any unwelcome feelings from showing on his face.
“Speaking of chances”, Paul gathers his thoughts and finally speaks up, letting out a laugh he’s held back way too long now, “some of these people on your case here? Shameless”.
Hugh laughs. “None would stand half a chance”, he smiles, “not with you around”.
“Really?”, Paul gives Hugh an inquisitive 'high-brow’ and purses his lips impishly. He expects Hugh to get the implication.
“Without you around? Given half a chance?” Hugh successfully reads Paul’s face and smiles back with same playfulness, “I’d go for Commander Rosseau: attended West Point, served 15 years on the Fleet, divorced with two kids, property on Risa”.
All that in time that could have constituted as a mere handshake? Paul marvels. But surely this wasn’t the one Paul would’ve thought then.
“How are you still dancing here with me at all?” Paul mumbles as if to himself.
“Surely I already told you”, Hugh answers with a hint of compassionate laughter in his voice, “Besides, I think they were looking for just a little 'romance’”. Paul feels the doctor’s arms around him tighten their grip reassuringly.
“Not that you’d be opposed to that either”, Paul teasingly recalls Hugh’s prior remark.
“Come on!” Hugh exclaims with a hint of pleasant sneer in his voice, “Don’t make me regret sharing that”.
“Who were they again?” Paul then suddenly almost as if blurts out his inner thought, while trying to look around the floor, if he can spot anyone who he saw show interest. He often has hard time trying to recall names. Simply because he usually doesn’t give enough of a crap.
Hugh finds the sudden interest Paul is taking adorable - like guarding his property. Which if he said it aloud would surely infuriate the man - Hugh smiles to himself. He looks around the room too to find them and points discreetly.
“Really?” Paul finds himself quite intimidated by the impressively build older gentleman Hugh is gesturing towards, “Not the opera guy then?” Paul could’ve been sure. Except they seemed too young after Hugh’s description.
““The opera guy” knew nothing of opera”, Hugh shrugs, “and had no insight or opinion of their own. You could almost hear them quote some review they’ve read or recycle phrases they’ve heard”.
So, they were in fact just trying to impress, Paul thinks. Shamelessly flirting with his date. He wasn’t just imagining that.
“- I - don’t know anything about opera”, Paul then makes a point to remark.
“Yes. But you also don’t pretend to”, Hugh reflects, “you’re not phony”.
“And you have your own very clear opinions”, he laughs.
Guess he has. And Paul never got why the fuck would anyone pretend to like something just to appease. In this case, if successful, would then be put in the position of pretending for the rest of any resulting relationship’s duration.
Paul sighs and leans his head on Hugh’s shoulder, fully appreciating their firm broadness. He’s getting so tired after all of the evening’s socializing, that his mind has started to block out all of the unnecessary commotion around them - he is well on his way to forgetting the crowd around them after all.
“Did I tell you yet how lovely you look tonight?” Paul suddenly feels the need to mention as he finds himself playing with the doctor’s lapel again.
“ “Lovely”?“, Hugh snickers and adjusts Paul’s jacket collar, “I recall "gorgeous” was the term you used back before we came here”.
“Yes. That sounds accurate”, Paul agrees with his former self.
Paul has admittedly let himself get a bit tipsy, so the man probably isn’t taking everything he says too seriously right now. But Paul is quite convinced he will never forget the way Hugh looks tonight.
“That “Commander”, though?“, Paul mumbles by the doctor’s ear, sounding somewhat glum. Now he would even remember the name, but refuses to acknowledge it, "you really do go for the older guys, don’t you?” Something which Hugh had alluded to once.
Paul can feel it against himself as Hugh chuckles sympathetically. “ "Mature”, Paul”, the man specifies, “You don’t need to be old to be 'grown’”.
“You’ll get there”, Hugh shucks, before his voice shifts to a pleasantly mellow tone, “and I hope I’ll be with you all the way to see it”.
The thought takes a while to get to Paul, but when it does it hits somewhere deep inside. His mind stops all else right there, and gets lost in the thought of him and Hugh old together. It’s comforting, like nothing else has been before.
What little of the outside world there was left anymore, vanishes now with the thought, and they are left alone. It’s just Hugh and him now, swaying to the slow music. Outside time and space. It’s suddenly where he wants to be.
Paul can’t remember when, if ever, he has felt quite this relaxed. He feels he’s never before had this feeling of complete and utter love as he does now, in the arms of his darling Officer.
The evening finally approaches it’s end and the crowds start to gradually find their way out of the venue hall.
Paul isn’t usually around to see this: his tendency to leave early has saved him from witnessing this another excruciating display of social groveling, as people linger on, hanging on to bits of conversation, each unwilling to end the exchange, unsure when to say their byes and just get the fuck out, like they clearly are wanting to.
But Paul is also surprised to find it doesn’t even irritate him now the way it usually would. If anything, he just finds it amusing.
He hangs tightly to his doctor-doctor’s arm, lost in his own thoughts again, as the conversations sound to go on like echoes somewhere in the distance.
He eventually feels a tug on his sleeve and 'wakes up’ to find Hugh smiling at him. Oh, it’s time to go? Finally.
Paul waves his byes to the group still present, getting actual thanks for attending. Instead of the usual awkward “sorry to see you go already”.
And then there they are: the Someone is by the venue door greeting away quests.
Paul takes this chance to go in for a big hug - formalities be damned.
‘Someone’ seems surprised, but somehow understanding of Paul’s unusual, affectionate farewell - this will probably be put on his current slight intoxication, and that’s just fine.
“Thank you”, Paul smiles, but lets the true nature of the gesture remain up for interpretation.
Hugh, observing this all from the sidelines, appears genuinely perplexed too, for what just struck his previously vexed date.
“What?”, Paul smiles like nothing out of ordinary has happened, in reply to Hugh’s explanation demanding expression.
Paul gives the man nothing.
The way to the elevators is peacefully quiet with only light traffic from the few remaining departing event quests themselves. The atmosphere is that of the usual calm of this late an hour, which Paul - the night owl that he is - is well familiar with, and now too finds comforting. He is also happy they are indeed staying at the venue hotel itself, without the need to travel any further than up a few floors.
Most dearly of all he is however appreciating this strong arm he’s holding on to right now. Nothing else feels quite as comforting or familiar.
“Thank you”, he smiles to Hugh as the couple wait for the elevator, “for being here tonight”.
Hugh smiles back at him warmly. He seems to be done talking for tonight, and that’s just fine too.
Paul leans his head on the doctor’s shoulder and sighs, “You were amazing”.