Work Text:
Months: Orphans In the Night
Paul strolls the brightly lit hotel corridors, appreciating the quietness of the facility at this late an hour. Only an occasional room service cart can be heard going by somewhere in the adjacent corridors.
He’s enjoying the soft carpeted floor beneath his feet. It’s easy for the step, yes, but more than that: it brings him distinct, delightful memories of a certain corridor rush from the time he had escorted his fetching officer to their first shared hotel room. It makes Paul smile.
It’s so calming an atmosphere he wouldn’t mind staying here, waiting for the elevator a moment longer even. But this quiet a time, the elevator comes quickly.
He rides it alone all the way down, without a stop.
Even the lobby area seems to have only light traffic.
And the lounge bar is basically empty, safe for few fellow late-night owls, scattered scarcely across the tables.
He picks the most remote table by the window and sits down to relax. It’s the perfect spot overlooking the whole place: close to the entrance, but almost around the corner from it too. This way he will have no annoying traffic behind him, but also doesn’t have to face every person walking into the place.
The faint sense of the ocean and the horizon in the distance behind the reflections on the windowed wall offer a soothing sensation in the darkness outside.
He only wishes the few spotlights littered around the otherwise dimly lit room didn’t reflect quite so fiercely off of the glass.
When he is in a good mood, in a stable state of mind - like he certainly is right now, despite the unexpectedly hectic past day -, he welcomes these calm hours between late and early, when all the world seems to be peacefully sleeping, and he is left alone with his thoughts to revel in it, like he’d be the last man in existence.
Paul jolts from his browsing to a light tap on his shoulder.
“Hello, stranger”, Hugh smiles, standing there over him as Paul raises his gaze from the PADD and turns to look over his shoulder.
“ "Contemplating my luck where we met”? “, Hugh quotes a message he had woken up to.
Paul smiles. He had secretly hoped he’d have the chance to meet this man tonight still.
"We got to stop meeting like this though”, Hugh jests, “at bars”.
“ "Cafés” “, Paul corrects.
Hugh laughs. Dear Doctor’s honey has been adamant on putting a more rosy tone to their first encounter: it was not a bar, but a "café”, and Paul had definitely not had just maybe a few too many.
“I don’t think we had a chance to really catch up yet”, Hugh pats Paul’s thigh as he sits down on the chair adjacent to Paul’s, and the couple share a content, reminiscing smile. “How was your flight?”
“A disaster”, Paul huffs and goes to immediately change the subject to something potentially much more pleasant, “how about you? You got a good look around the place already?”
Paul was supposed to be here earlier on the day, but his flight had gotten severely delayed, robbing him of a good full day with Hugh, “anything worth seeing maybe?”
“There’s a gorgeous little beach down by the rocks that way, that I’d love to take advantage of still”, Hugh gestures towards a general direction in the darkness outside the windows, “it seemed to have enough shade too, so you could come enjoy it as well”.
“And I don’t know, if you saw it on the hotel reviews or somewhere already…”, Hugh goes on, “but there’s also this massive yacht marina right next to the hotel, that you might like”.
Hugh turns in his seat, looking around, trying to figure out their current relative position in the hotel complex, then points towards the windows at the back of the lounge area, “riiiight there, that you could see here even, if they didn’t have those curtains drawn there right now”.
“Nice”, Paul smiles. Hearing his man has had a fulfilling day exploring the place despite Paul’s unexpected absence is making him feel better about the delay, “gotta go check that out closer then, after the lecture tomorrow”.
“Today”, Paul’s pedantic mind can’t help but remind him.
“When is that exactly?” Hugh leans back in his chair, “have you had any time to prepare?”
“It isn’t until after the noon lunch break”, Paul hums, “I’ll have plenty of time to prepare, if I just skip the morning lectures”.
Which is a relieving excuse: he wouldn’t have been too keen to sit through most of those snore-fests anyway; there doesn’t seem to be anything new on offer, that he wouldn’t have already heard or read of somewhere previously.
“Right”, Hugh smiles to himself. What ever might be going through the man’s head right then? Paul can’t tell, but it makes him smile too.
Paul is loving this. The light traffic of the lobby and the general calm atmosphere of the lounge: the quiet background music is somewhere way off in the distance and barely detectable to their table, any possible chatter from the other tables too is inaudible in this corner.
Even the occasional bits of unannounced conversations from passers by seem like but small waves across the otherwise calm waters. Refreshing and welcome in their rarity and unexpectedness: they come suddenly and are barely noticeable until they are gone again, leaving only further emphasis on the peacefulness of the scene.
Relaxed time with his man: this was what Paul had waited for the whole day, and was afraid he’d miss it completely.
“Would you have liked something to drink?” Paul suddenly realizes to ask as he remembers his own drink on the table next to the remnants of a sandwich.
“Oh, no, thank you”, Hugh replies, “I could take a sip of that though - just to taste”.
Paul looks like he’s about to say something, but doesn’t. He promptly hands the drink over.
“What is this?” Hugh asks, taking a small, careful sip.
“I’m afraid I have no idea”, Paul replies, “just asked them to bring whatever”. “For all I know, it’s the night's last left-overs mixed in together”.
Hugh cringes. It is a peculiar taste, but not that bad.
“Just wait for it”, Paul smiles, “sure tastes like it, doesn’t it”.
“Lords”, Hugh exclaims at the after-taste now kicking in, “why, Paul?”
Paul laughs.
He has his reasons. But it’s something the moment doesn’t need to bring the mood down.
The conversation comes to a lull with the amused mood left hanging in the air. The couple just sit there in silence, enjoying each others presence. Paul on his PADD - how else - and Hugh just seems to kick back and enjoy the relaxation. He’s slunk low on the seat - almost laying on it -, and is observing people in the lounge behind his back from the reflection on the windowed wall in front of him.
Occasionally he catches Paul glancing at him from it too, and smiles to him.
Hugh’s nodded off couple of times now and currently looks like he’s just about to fall asleep.
“Why don’t you just go back to bed, if you’re that tired?” Paul asks, jolting Hugh’s eyes open.
“I like it here with you”, Hugh says and playfully nudges Paul’s leg with his own.
“I know it’s quite a bit off still, but have you thought about New Year’s at all yet?” Hugh suddenly asks.
No, Paul hasn’t. He hasn’t ever really been one to celebrate any such occasions - especially off Earth, as he has been. Rather arbitrary date to mark one planet’s circling of the Sun once. It could be any day really…
“I know, you probably don’t give a hoot about celebrating it”, Hugh interrupts Paul’s thoughts, reading his mind with startling accuracy, “buuut, it’s a free day from service. We could still meet up”.
“There probably won’t be seminars though, given the date”, Paul mumbles, knowing that’s rather irrelevant.
“Yeah, well, we could just pick a spot where ever we want”, Hugh ponders, and reaches to stroke Paul’s arm.
The doctor probably doesn’t even realize doing it, but the comforting familiarity of Hugh’s touch running along his forearm doesn’t escape Paul.
Where would they go then though? Paul has never been much of a traveler. Which he realizes is in stark contrast with this whirlwind of times he’s had with Hugh recently, where each time they meet they are in a whole new location. But these are just spots dictated by the events he has to attend.
If he had a choice he’d much rather just stay home.
“If I had a home, I’d take you there”, Paul states seemingly nonchalantly, his concentration still on his PADD.
But this is actually something of a confession from him. Both in terms of ‘homelessness’ and his desire to have a place to bring Hugh to.
He’s thought about this many a sleepless night by now, and his mind always seems to come to the same conclusion: he wants to share his life with this man. Someday he’ll have a home to settle in with him. This is of course what Paul has but decided himself. His dream. Nothing he has ever brought up with Hugh himself. Yet.
Hugh looks at his man curiously. There’s a bit of confusion in the doctor’s eyes, but mostly something else, which Paul can’t quite pin-point - some form of recognition maybe? Hopefulness even?
“You don’t feel you have a home?” Hugh asks, sounding rather surprised.
Not really, no, Paul thinks to himself, forgetting he should probably answer out loud.
Up until recently the most at home he’s felt has been in his mushroom garden perhaps. He’s lived in the Deneva Station’s facilities for years now. And why wouldn’t he have: it’s been most convenient - it’s where their research is, where his kiddos are. His life’s work. His life: the work.
But recently that hasn’t really been enough anymore, has it? Not nearly enough.
It’s a damn miracle a recluse like himself ever even met someone like Hugh at all. People like Paul don’t get to witness such personalities as Hugh this up close too often, it feels, and most curiously of all: hit it off.
Hugh had told him, back when they had first decided to come meet up on one of these conference weekends, that there was more to life than Paul’s laboratory and that he’d be glad to show it. Paul had had his foolish doubts of course, as to what he could possibly experience, that was new in these 'conference calls’ he had attended dozens of times already by that point.
Other than the obvious fun two adults could have in the privacy of a shared hotel room perhaps. But even that had never really been much of Paul’s particular interest. Well, before Hugh it hadn’t been anyway. Something else the man had taught him to appreciate.
But he knows now what Hugh had meant. In fact he had felt it right after their very first weekend - whether he fully realized it back then or not. His attitude towards these events had been rotten and viewing them as useless waste of time he had let them drag him down, so that they had indeed become just that: energy wasting, thankless tasks to suffer through, in unfortunate frequency.
But now they are something quite the opposite. He knows to appreciate the things he gets to experience during these trips a lot more - at all, that is. Small things like this: just sitting together in peace, enjoying the atmosphere of the place.
After that first weekend with Hugh, these have become getaways he can’t wait to attend.
They are now something, which he feels give him nothing, but enormous amounts of extra energy. Enough incentive to wade through the more dragging weeks, stand the long days of research, testing. And the countless, soul crushing failures. Push on with the work. Provide him inspiration, when ever there is none otherwise.
Sure, he still insists the lectures or their aftermath are still a fucking drag in on themselves: all the surrounding criticism, ass kissing, hand shaking and general kowtowing.
But at least Paul knows to relax himself around these affairs now - not to stress about them too much beforehand, nor let himself wallow in their aftermath.
This all from Hugh, and his suggestion, that Paul enjoyed his trips away from his lab, instead of viewing them as annoying distractions.
This man has changed his life - the way he sees and dreams of it - and Paul isn’t quite sure where he’d be right now without him.
Or maybe he’d be right here even, but alone, all wrapped up in his inner turmoil, carrying a hell of a lot more scorn and resentful emotional package.
And likely with at least his third drink already - without the sense or reason to try and limit himself, even with such silly old tricks as choosing the most vile drinks he knows he couldn’t finish.
Not, that he would need to do that anymore, but had done so just out of some curious sense of nostalgia, now that he felt he had a choice.
Now that he felt he had something meaningful in his personal life. Something which he hadn’t even realized he was missing before Hugh, and had always foolishly just disregarded as nothing but unnecessary distractions from the work - his life’s “real meaning”. Up until now anyway?
But why is he holding all this in then?
“Odd as it feels after such a relatively brief time”, Paul suddenly lets out, “you feel like my home now”.
Hugh looks at Paul confused, then smiles delighted. With a hint of amusement even.
Paul only just realizes, that a good while must have passed while he was lost in his thoughts. Hugh must’ve thought the silence meant the matter was dropped already - that maybe it was something Paul didn’t care to discuss.
Or does he mistake this for just another one of Paul’s usual, corny one-liners perhaps? That it most certainly is not.
“It’s become this feeling, that I go to work for the weeks”, Paul goes on explaining to make himself clear, “then come back 'home’ to you on these weekends”.
Oddly, it doesn’t even feel like such a brief time either - Paul feels like he could’ve known this man for decades now, somehow.
“And no matter where I travel”, Paul continues, “it still always feels like I’m coming home. Because you are there”.
It’s that same feeling of belonging he had felt the first time they had embraced.
Paul realizes he is currently gesturing quite vividly with his free hand - it’s sometimes an unfortunately revealing sign: an involuntary mannerism, that tells he is talking in earnest. This time he doesn’t mind showing it however.
He just isn’t sure, if Hugh has picked up on it yet - though he must have, maybe on his very first time attending Paul’s lecture at Alpha Centauri even; those hand gestures are not part of 'the show’ - they are one of the only few things Paul ever lets show of himself on the stage. “Lets” or more like can’t help his excited self.
“I feel at home with you, Hugh”, Paul concludes, “and what ever else happens, I don’t want to lose that”.
He is done hiding this crucial, honest part of his feelings.
Hugh is silent for what feels like the longest while. Paul is expecting for his expression at least to turn to that head-tilted dewey-eyed look, the man always flashes, when Paul gets all smushy.
But Paul is not being “smushy”, is he? He is coming out brutally honest. And it seems to have gotten the doctor quite tongue-tied.
“I’m sorry”, Hugh finally manages out.
Was Paul being too honest?
“Paul”, Hugh shifts in his chair, and leans in a bit, placing his hand gently on Paul’s knee. His gaze is still turned down, as if trying to find form for his words. He then looks up to the man from beneath his brows, “that is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me”. Hugh’s eyes rarely show this vulnerable a look, that on Paul is quite a staple, when he’s not fighting to conceal it.
“You have to excuse me, while I take a moment to process this”, there’s faint laughter in the doctor’s voice, as he leans back to his chair again, hand against his cheek, his teeth biting to a fingernail.
“It’s okay, I…”, Paul gets interrupted by a sudden wave of passing by conversation. First one to strike a chord this night, but gone again as quickly as it came.
“It’s fine, I really didn’t mean to just dump this on you like that”, Paul resumes , “I completely understand, if it’s too much to take in right now”.
Especially at this time of the night. It is getting way late for them to still be up, isn’t it?
“It’s not that, Paul”, Hugh says with his hand - knuckles first - up against his cheek, partly concealing his expression in a very contemplative manner.
With the usual bright smile covered like this, Hugh’s eyes somehow seem like they shine even more brilliantly, “I am glad you said this - that you come out this openly”.
He had, hadn’t he? For once Hugh didn’t need to be the one to try and pry about the man’s inner workings.
“It’s to hear you say it, that’s coming as something of a surprise”, Hugh looks to Paul behind his reflective demeanor, “hear, that you think that way”.
“I don’t know if you realize this”, Hugh leans in again, resting his elbows against his thighs, “but I don’t really have a home either”.
No. Paul hadn’t really thought about that. The man so rarely seems nothing but content with… everything.
“I’ve been with the Fleet most of my adult life”, Hugh goes on opening up while rubbing his hands together in front of him, “my 'home’ has always been wherever my latest post is. Not where I choose it to be, but where the Fleet decides”.
Hugh’s hands keep clasping and unclasping along with the 'reveals’. The more uninhibited man doesn’t necessarily even notice it, but Paul has become keen to take note of these things after years of trying to conceal his own peculiar 'ticks’.
“That there’s someone out there, who thinks they could have a real home with me…”, the hands turn to Paul, palms open.
“It’s a dream come true”, Hugh leans his chin to his hand, with fingers bend against his lips, adopting that very pensive pose again. His eyes stare dreaming into nothing momentarily, until he turns his gaze up to Paul again, smiling, “gives me hope for the future”.
Hope for the future? Paul can’t quite fathom what hope the ever positive, ever smiling, ever encouraging doctor wouldn’t already have. What dreams the man might hide behind that dazzling demeanor.
But he would willingly provide anything the man feels is missing.
Paul is glad Hugh is taking his unexpected confession well.
“Well”, Paul shifts in his chair, “I take it you won’t mind me saying then, that I would really be honored to be the one considered as your "someone out there” “.
And there it is, finally after all: Hugh’s neck tilts to that cute, slight angle as his eyes adopt the warmest loving look to them. "Oh, honey. You certainly are”, he smiles. The way that’s sure to melt hearts. One particularly lucky heart at least.
The joy of the full implications of this impromptu exchange are yet to hit Paul, but he is already feeling a huge relief for sharing this - something he hadn’t even realized was pressing on him.
This was some form of a 'proposal’, wasn’t it?
“We should go to bed. Get some sleep”, Hugh sighs warmly with his eyes wanting to close on him, “you have an important day tomorrow”.
“Yup…”, Paul smiles and finally shuts his PADD. “Today”, his mind corrects.
“Gotta come with you to see that beach you mentioned”, he says as he leans forward and gets up from the chair, patting Hugh on his thigh encouragingly.
“Not what I meant”, the tiredness is sounding clearly through Hugh’s laughter.
“It’s exactly what I meant”, Paul says with conviction, and takes Hugh’s hand to help pull the tired man up from his chair.
Is he getting himself too distracted from work? Surely it doesn’t matter, he thinks as he wraps his arm around Dear Doctor. He’s too in love to care right now.
He feels too at home with this man to let work consume his every thought anymore.