Chapter Text
Part I - Coriolus Versicolor (Aids digestion, helps heal infection, and treats the common cold and flu.)
Two weeks after Paul Stamets finally convinced his partner and fellow Starfleet officer Hugh Culber to move in with him, and one week after settling in, Hugh comes home one evening to an intoxicating array of smells. Setting his work things aside, and hanging his coat in the entry closet, he follows his nose to the kitchen.
“You... cook?” Hugh stops short of entering the doorway, eyebrows raised in amusement as he watches his partner skillfully flip the contents of a pan on the open flame of their stove top.
“Did you think I picked a place with a stove for that vintage feel?” Paul asks, holding back a gloating smile as he glances over his shoulder, beckoning Hugh closer with a nod. It’s not often he surprises Hugh.
“You’re one of the pickiest eaters I’ve ever met.”
“So it would make sense to cook my own food then, wouldn’t it?" Paul smirks. "I know what I like."
“Where did you get all these- These are fresh vegetables, aren’t they?” Hugh asks, mildly impressed as he looks over a pile of delicately chopped carrots prepped off to the side.
“There’s a farmer’s market near the main plaza, and yes. Only the best for you. Also, my mother had an extreme distaste for replicated food.”
“Of course she did,” Hugh smiles, not unkindly.
“Not in a pretentious way,” Paul frowns. “She liked getting her hands dirty. She enjoyed the imperfections of things naturally grown.”
“Well, that’s obvious,” Hugh jokes, pulling a spoon out of drawer, and dipping it into a red sauce in another pan on the stove.
“Excuse you,” Paul says with mock indignation, watching Hugh steal a taste. “I’m the closest to perfect thing she ever grew.”
“I wish I could have met her.”
“She would have loved you.”
~
Paul thinks it’s better, maybe, that his mother wasn’t alive at the start of the war. She never wanted him in Starfleet anyways. “If it’s just a science mission, why are they teaching you to fire guns?” She would ask, knowing the answer was not the excuse Paul would give her. Starfleet offered Paul seemingly endless resources when it came to his research, and for that alone it was worth it to him. “Everyone has to learn the basics, Mom, but I’m never going to be out of a lab. You don’t have to worry about me." She worried anyways.
~
“Do you want to talk about it?” Hugh asks, setting his toothbrush back in its charger.
Paul shakes his head.
“I’m here, if you change your mind.”
Paul nods at the floor as a heavy silence falls between them.
After a beat, Paul lifts his gaze to meet Hugh's, a twinge of confusion on his brows. “What does it say about me if I don’t feel anything?”
Hugh places a comforting hand on Paul’s shoulder. “You’re still processing. You might not know what you’re feeling just yet.”
“We were research partners for over a decade, Hugh," Paul huffs, annoyed more with himself than his partner. "There would be stretches of time where he would be the only person I’d see for days- weeks, even. I’d probably spent more time with Straal collectively than I have with you. I should feel something.”
“Paul, you have to give yourself time.”
“But we don’t have time, Hugh. Isn’t that just it?" Paul fumes, but a sympathetic gaze from Hugh quickly brings him down. "That whole crew is dead, and we barely had enough time to grab what we needed and run. What about their families? What about their bodies? Don’t they deserve better?”
“They do,” Hugh nods understandingly.
“But this is war, right? Just onto the next battle like nothing ever happened.”
Hugh sighs.
“You know what, fuck Lorca, and fuck Starfleet! My friend is dead and I’m too fucking desensitized to mourn him.”
~
Hugh emerges from under the covers, and props his head up on his hand, giving his partner a proud once-over as he rubs his other hand on Paul’s exposed chest. He smirks watching Paul catch his breath as the last of his orgasm courses through him.
When Paul finally opens his eyes again, still panting, he rolls over to gently pull his partner into a kiss of gratitude. Paul pulls back enough to meet Hugh’s eyes, and catches the slightest look of guilt.
“You’re being… overly nice,” Paul says with a cautious smile.
“I’m always overly nice with you,” Hugh grins, diverting his eyes to Paul’s chest.
“Kinder than I deserve, you mean?” Paul squints.
“Perhaps... lately.”
Paul’s eyebrows creep up his forehead. “Lately?”
“You’ve been... extremely difficult since you found out about the Discovery.”
Paul almost laughs. “So… you thought I needed a morning blowjob before you head to work?”
Hugh raises his eyebrows. “Are you complaining?”
“No, I’m confused,” Paul corrects, “And I know you’re running behind now.”
Hugh grimaces, glancing at the clock beside their bed, and straightens up.
Paul frowns. It's more clear now than ever that Hugh's up to something. “Hugh, what did you do?”
“I had a conversation with the Admiral-“
Paul’s eyes widen slightly. “You mean you mother?”
“Yes, I mean my mother, Paul, and she-”
“Please tell me the Discovery is cancelled, and we get to stay here in San Francisco.” He’s almost hopeful.
“No, Paul.”
“Then what?”
“Will you let me finish?” Hugh snaps.
“Sorry.”
“... I got myself a transfer.”
“You what?!” Paul sits up, his face a mixture of anger and confusion.
“Paul,” Hugh says gently, placing a hand on Paul’s knee. “There’s no way in Hell they are going to pull out of the Spore Drive project.”
Paul jerks his knee away. “Hugh, the ship is highly experimental.”
Hugh frowns. “And I could also benefit from that highly competitive environment.”
“You could also die, Hugh.”
“So could you, Paul.”
Paul looks away, resisting the urge to pout. He sighs. “Yes, but I don’t have a choice in the matter.”
“None of us do, but why should I stay here when I could be of use there?” Hugh asks, reaching out, and placing a hand on the back of Paul’s neck.
“Because you’re safe here,” Paul says weakly, glancing back over to Hugh.
“For now. The war will make it here soon enough.”
Paul tries to sound confident. “Not if the Spore Drive is successful.”
“Paul, I know how you work. You’ll starve to death trying to push that drive to its limits.”
“Is that what you told Starfleet?” Paul asks bitterly.
“Of course not,” Hugh reassures, holding his partner’s face in his hands. “Discovery has one of the most advanced medical bays in the fleet. I could do so much more out there for Starfleet than I can here on earth.”
“For the war, you mean,” Paul pouts, giving in.
“If that’s what they heard then fine.”
Paul takes Hugh’s hands from his face and holds them in his own, gazing at him imploringly. “It’s a demotion for you.”
Hugh gives Paul's hands a squeeze. “It’s still a good career choice. Chances for promotion are higher on ships.”
Paul looks away again, loosening his grip on Hugh’s hands. “Because more people die on ships.”
Hugh shakes his head a little. “We know what we signed up for when we joined Starfleet.”
“We did not sign up for this war,” Paul corrects, “and you sound like your mother.”
“She doesn’t want me to go either,” Hugh sighs.
“Your mother is a smart woman.”
~
“Computer, did I receive any messages while I was out?” Paul asks, tossing his sopping wet bag and coat on the nearest chair, and grabbing a PADD from his kitchen table as he plops down in a different chair to remove his soaked shoes.
“You have a voice message from Doctor Hugh Culber.”
“A what?” Paul squints. Why wouldn’t Hugh just call me directly?
“A voice message from Doc-“
“Play the message- Wait.” Was Paul forgetting something important? Was Hugh angry about something? “Shit. Why the fuck did he leave a message here? Shit. Shit. Shit!” Paul rips his wet socks off, kicking them out of the way as he shuffles over to the sink to wash his hands.
“Computer, play the message.”
“Hey, Paul," Hugh's voice chimes in, overly casual in tone. "I’m not mad.”
Paul sighs bitterly. “Then why the hell-“
“I knew you’d be out all afternoon, and I’ll be busy until the evening, so I wanted to get this out of the way. As you may have heard, my mom is getting a promotion, so we’re throwing a little Culber Family get together… tonight. I want you to be there.”
“No.”
“Before you say no, know that I told my mom you’d be there.”
“Are you fucking kidding m-“
“And yes, I checked to make sure you’d be free.” Hugh lets out an audible sigh. “I can’t make you come, but I’d really like you to. It’s very informal. Casual clothing. Please don’t wear your dress uniform.”
“Thank you for clarifying what casual is with the Admiral ,” Paul scoffs.
“My sisters will be there, too, but you’ve met Alicia already. Her husband will be there as well. No kids, so don’t worry about that."
“Oh, well in that case-“ Paul starts sarcastically.
“I… have to get back to work. Please call me when you get a moment. Love you.”
Paul drags his hands down his face. “I must love you too if I’m willingly subjecting myself to a casual dinner with your mother, Hugh.”
“Oh, and I hope you didn’t forget your umbrella today. See you soon, babe.”