Greg was the only guy he knew who didn't like having days off.
He liked his job, even though there wasn't a hell of a lot for security to do during the long gaps between escorting diplomats or visiting planets or whatever. He liked the normal crap too, standing watch over weapons closets and following up on reports from crew about missing items or even the occasional serious thing, like assault or harassment or whatever.
Surprised him now and then just how much shit went down on a starship, when everyone was supposed to be on the same team, wearing the same uniform. But hell, they were all people. People got into fights, and people were sometimes cons and thieves.
Greg didn't necessarily like knowing the darker side of the ship, but he liked that it was his job to catch people and stop the bad shit from happening whenever he could.
He was even thinking about maybe starting a class on board same as he did at the Academy, teaching whoever wanted to learn how to fight back when some asshole jumped them. But it wasn't like he was gonna ask Kirk for permission, and he wasn't all that comfortable with going to Chief Porter, either. So he never said anything.
But, okay. Point was, he liked his job. He liked keeping busy, and he really didn't like having days off. Cause on starships that was just a big long stretch of hours without anything to fill them.
Time off made him miss open space and the water off the bay in San Fransisco, or the fields of South Dakota. Made him want to jump on a hovercar or one of those fucking sweet ATVs his family used to keep around. Made him want to move, fast, in a nice open space. Time off made him realize how fucking small the ship was, and also that the ship was his entire world while he was on it.
Some of the crew got together and played cards, started clubs – Pasha's pal from the bridge even had his own set-up in the botany labs to take care of flowers and shit. But Greg didn't have a lot of hobbies.
He didn't mind so much back when Pasha was still in sickbay – though he figured that was a shitty thing to think. But he could spend a lot of time in there with him, sitting by the bed and talking, helping him eat until he got back enough blood or whatever so he could do it on his own. Just sitting there while he read journals and got caught up on whatever science shit he was missing.
Usually Pasha always had somewhere to be, even on his days off. He had a hundred different projects he was working on down in engineering or in the science labs, and Greg liked to hear him talk about them even though he understood like three words of the whole rap. (Greg wasn't dumb enough to actually follow him around and see what he was doing. Greg was kind of big and clumsy sometimes, and he'd flunked enough science classes not to trust himself around delicate, important shit.)
Anyway, when Pasha was in Sickbay and couldn't go anywhere, Greg could hang around with him more. Now that he was back up and moving and being important and shit, Greg's days off were a bunch of long hours again.
Greg wasn't an asshole, of course – there wasn't anything to regret about Pasha being better. Not even that.
Every time Greg looked at him suddenly he was back at that one moment where he saw Pasha on the ground with blood every damned where and the doc leaning over him like he was dead. And he looked dead. Gray-skinned and limp and they'd put a knife in his stomach, Greg found out later. They did it on camera, fucking alien bastards.
Greg hadn't seen that part of their tape, and he didn't want to now. He'd taken off after they put the first bruise on Pasha.
Wasn't worth thinking about, that whole thing. Hell if Greg even remembered most of it. There was a long bit of time that was really cloudy in his memory, like it wasn't even him doing what he did. Christ, he disobeyed orders. Not even Porter's orders, or Kirk's. Starfleet headquarters. He disobeyed them and didn't think twice about it, because some alien fuckers had their hands on his Pasha and nobody hurt Pasha.
He killed them, anyway, and didn't remember anything as strong as he remembered getting to Pasha and seeing him on that ground.
Well. Whatever. It was shitty, and sometimes Greg looked at the little scar the doc said wouldn't ever go away, the one on Pasha's stomach where the alien fucker stabbed him, and it made him want to cry or something even though Pasha was alive and better.
Sometimes at night he would just sit there with Pasha kind of wrapped up around him so Greg could hold on to him and make sure nobody could get him away. And if he held Pasha kind of tightly...well, Pasha grabbed on to him just as hard, so Greg didn't feel bad about it.
So. Pasha being healthy again, that was great. If Greg had to eat alone at dinner 'cause most of security had their shift meals early and Pasha was off being alive and healthy and smart somewhere, well...fuck Greg, 'cause he was the least important part of that equation.
"Hey."
Greg frowned and looked at his tray and realized he hadn't actually started eating yet, and he didn't have much appetite anymore thanks to thinking about all that shit that happened.
"Hey."
He frowned up at whoever the hell was talking right in front of his table, and blinked when he saw that the person was talking to him.
Sulu, Pasha's best friend.
Oh. Shit. Greg stood up fast. "What? Whats wrong? Where is he?"
The guy, Sulu, had this real calm thing around him, and he gestured back at the table in this easy way and flashed a smile. "I don't know, he's probably with Scotty. Nothing's wrong."
"Oh." Greg hesitated, almost wanting to go and check and make sure. Just in case. But he looked down at the tray Sulu had, and the way he was standing there, and he hesitated.
Sulu sat down across from Greg's tray. "I owe you a thank you, you know."
Greg stood for a moment longer, but sat when he realized he probably looked like an idiot just standing there.
He frowned at Sulu. "A thank you."
"Yeah. A few of them." Sulu started plucking fries off his tray, casual like he sat there with Greg every day and said weird things.
"For what?"
Sulu looked at him then, kind of serious. "Mostly, for getting to us in time to get Pavel back here alive."
Greg swallowed and looked down at his lukewarm food. "Nothing to thank me for."
"I disagree, so you're going to have to hear it anyway."
Greg didn't want to hear it. He didn't like thinking about that day and he sure as hell didn't want to talk about it.
"Just doing my job."
"It isn't your job when Starfleet ordered everyone to stand by. In fact, 'do not engage the enemy' is kind of opposite what you did."
Greg frowned. "Not really."
"No? How do you figure that?"
Greg looked up again, wary. But Sulu wasn't grinning or smirking or anything. His brow was furrowed like he really didn't get it.
Greg knew from hearing Pasha talk that Sulu was just as smart as the other geniuses hanging around the bridge, so he felt himself kind of going warm as he tried to explain himself to Pasha's smart best friend.
"Look, there's orders and there's the job. At least in security there is. Most important part of our job is to keep the crew safe. So if we're down on a planet somewhere and there's someone attacking or whatever, even if we get ordered to do nothing we still fight them off. The job's more important than the orders. Sometimes."
It was a hard thing to explain, especially to a guy who did the helm job, where orders were orders and that was that. Greg was doing a shit job explaining, too, probably, but Sulu asked, so.
"Anyway. Starfleet said don't engage, and the Klingons said they were gonna kill the prisoners, so. What I did was my job, even if it wasn't my orders. You know?"
For a minute Sulu looked at him strange, like he was speaking Klingon or something. But he nodded. "Actually, that makes a lot of sense. Though I suspect you're oversimplifying, especially considering that you were the only one who risked coming to get us."
Greg shrugged. "That's the thing about working my job, though. We all gotta figure out for ourselves when the orders should be ignored. And I guess I'm the only one who thought they should right then."
Sulu didn't look too convinced. "Either way, thank you. For coming to get us, and getting Pasha back here safe. And..." He flashed a smile so sudden it was surprising. "For getting my sword back."
Greg blinked. He sat up. "Wait, that thing was yours? I pulled it off one of those fuckers, it was in with your communicators and all. That thing is fucking wicked."
Sulu grinned. "I almost cried when Kirk brought it to me. He said you turned it in to him, so. Thanks."
Greg felt himself grinning back, and it actually didn't feel all that weird. "You gotta show me that thing in action sometime."
"Yeah?" Sulu's eyebrows rose. "Okay, if you show me how you broke a Klingon's ribs from less than two feet away."
Greg was surprised by that. He didn't figure any of them in that cage had been paying him any attention when he fought those fuckers off.
"Deal."
"Harris. How's that arm?"
Greg looked up, and his grin faded in surprise as the doc himself slid into the seat beside Sulu's.
Doc nodded at him same as Sulu, casual, like they were buddies or something.
Took him a moment to remember the question. "Oh. It's okay. Aches in the mornings pretty bad, but I'm doing all those exercises and everything."
McCoy stared at him, then nudged Sulu. "Jesus, there is one person on this ship who will actually listen to medical advice. Remind me later I owe Chapel some money."
Sulu laughed.
Greg didn't get it, but he grinned anyway when McCoy looked back at him. He wondered if maybe he should thank the doc, like Sulu thanked Greg. For helping Pasha and everything. The way Pasha said it, if McCoy hadn't been putting pressure on that knife wound the whole time he was laying there in that cell, he'd've died.
Maybe later he would thank him. He didn't really want to talk about it again right there in the mess. Anyway, McCoy kind of seemed like Greg in that he wouldn't really want an audience for a talk like that.
"Alright, Bones. Weren't you just bitching the other day about me filling up on junk food instead of eating real meals?"
Okay. Greg didn't know what the hell all this was, with Sulu and the doc and talking to him and all. But it hit some kind of new level of weirdness when fucking Kirk himself sat down. Next to Greg. Like it was nothing.
McCoy slapped Kirk's hand away as Kirk reached to steal fries off his plate. "I can get away with it, because I actually eat vegetables regularly. You eat like clogged arteries are in style and you're worried about missing the damned trend."
Kirk grinned at him through a mouthful of stolen fries and sat back. He looked over at Greg after he swallowed, like he just noticed Greg was there or something. "Oh, hey. Cupcake. I gotta talk to you--"
Greg stood up. He flashed a weird-feeling smile to Sulu and McCoy, and even the captain. "Uh, look. I gotta go find...Pavel." Or something. Jesus. "Sorry, Captain."
Kirk stopped him on his way out after he dumped his tray and food and all into the recycler. "I'll be quick," he said with a grin when he saw Greg's face. "Just wanted to give you a head's up." He stuck out his hand.
Greg reached out uncertainly, and almost missed catching the little strip of blue that Kirk let go of. He did catch it, though, and peered at it for a long moment.
It was a patch. Insignia. A rectangle, points at the corners. A line cut down the middle.
Greg knew what it was instantly, of course, but he wasn't sure what...
"Sorry it took so long, I had to wait until Starfleet relaxed about that incident with the Klingons." Kirk grinned and slapped him on the arm. "Congratulations. Your boss is gonna do some whole official thing in the morning, I guess, but I'm the captain. I can blow the surprise if I want to."
Greg blinked down at the insignia, and looked at Kirk. "Sir. This is for..."
Kirk's smile went a little softer, for a second almost looking like he meant it. "You save the entire bridge crew you're gonna get some recognition. Even if I can't formally put into your record all the actual reasons for it."
Greg shook his head, fingering the patch. "Captain, I was just--"
"Doing your job. And doing it better than anybody. That's the kind of thing that earns promotions, Lieutenant Commander."
Jesus. Greg looked up at Kirk and had this strange, completely unfamiliar urge to salute the man.
Kirk caught him before his shoulders were even squared. "Just between you and me, Harris...I only did it because I want to be able to call you Chief Cupcake one day." He grinned and wandered off back to the doc's side before Greg could even answer.
Maybe it was just the way that patch felt in his hand, but Greg had this sudden strong feeling that he really wouldn't mind being called Chief Cupcake. Even by Kirk.
"Hey, Greg."
Sulu again. Greg stopped in the middle of the corridor and let him catch up. His stomach twisted but eased off pretty fast thanks to Sulu's smile. Nothing was wrong. Good.
He was just coming from Pasha's room, but Pasha wasn't there. Greg was hoping that meant he was waiting in Greg's room, though probably it meant he was still off somewhere being a genius and all.
Sulu jogged up to Greg and came to a stop, flashing that smile. Greg didn't know the guy beyond what Pasha told him, and he already had to kind of like him because he was Pasha's best friend, but there was actually something nice about a guy who smiled so much. Pasha was the first happy person Greg ever really knew, and Sulu smiled even more than Pasha did.
"Hey, I just wanted to make sure we were on for sword-fighting lessons sometime."
"Lessons?" Greg shrugged. "I just wanted you to show me what you do. I'm not good with shit like that, be useless trying to teach me anything."
"Yeah, why don't I believe you? I watched you bury an axe in two different Klingons, pal. I know you can use a blade."
Greg felt himself smiling back, and wasn't sure why. "That was an axe, though. That little sword of yours I'd probably break just by holding it."
"I'll risk it. Are we on or not?"
Greg hesitated, but there wasn't a damned thing on Sulu's face except expectation. And that same fucking smile.
He looked down the corridor suddenly, making sure no one else (especially Pasha) was hanging around.
"Okay. What's going on today? You and that doc and the captain." He kept his voice low so he wouldn't have to step closer – sometimes people saw any movement a guy like him made as being threatening. "You've never had nothing to say to me before now."
Sulu didn't seem all that annoyed by the questions, at least. He just shrugged. "We're Pavel's friends. We're practically his family. You want me to be honest here?"
Greg nodded. He could handle honesty way better than some stupid soft lie.
"Well, honestly, Pavel's practically my brother. Once I found out about you two, you were just...I don't know, his boyfriend. A separate part of his life that I didn't need to get involved in. Plus..."
Greg waited, but it looked like too much honesty made Sulu awkward.
Greg was dumb, but he wasn't stupid. "Plus you figured I was just the meathead he was banging or whatever, and in a few weeks he'd be on to something else."
Sulu blinked. "I wouldn't put it quite that way. I did think a guy like you wouldn't find much common ground with the part of his life I'm involved in."
"Uh huh. You mean every single other part of his life, right?"
"Yeah, pretty much." Sulu smiled again, but it was sheepish and not calm and relaxed like his other smiles. "Like I said, he's my brother. I don't have to get involved with his boyfriends. But a guy who cares about him so much he risks his life and his career and fights off a dozen Klingons to get him to safety? That guy I want to get to know."
His smile relaxed then. "Plus I do want to know how you got enough momentum in eighteen inches of space to break a Klingon's ribs. That is pretty impressive."
By the time Greg got to his door, he found himself with plans for the next few Saturdays in the deck five gym (and a renewed voice in the back of his mind wondering if he should maybe ask the captain about teaching some classes after all).
He was also waved at by the ship's chief engineer, and for some reason when the first officer passed him in the corridor he said, "Lieutenant," like a greeting or something.
So, yeah, by the time he got to his door Greg was officially weirded the fuck out.
He got it – he wasn't a complete moron. Pasha's friends were making nice. But they were never being mean in the first place, really. At least not to Greg's face, and Greg didn't much care what people said behind his back since everyone talked about everyone behind their backs and that just was what it was.
Maybe his first appointment with Sulu he'd just go ahead and tell him not to sweat it, no hard feelings, or whatever. Greg didn't make friends all that often, he sure wasn't going to suddenly sprout five or six instant best pals in a day.
He didn't need that. He had all he needed already.
He tapped in the code to open his door and sighed. Weird fucking day, and that's why he hated days off.
Greg shrugged off his jacket, and tugged a small blue patch out of his pants pocket. He smiled to himself as he ran his finger over that patch.
Weird day, but not bad.
He tossed the patch on top of his jacket – wouldn't get it stitched on until Porter made it official. He wanted the metal pin in his hand before he got too cocky about his new rank.
Lieutenant Commander Greg Harris. Holy shit on a fucking cracker.
He grinned and made his way back to his bedroom.
He didn't get past the doorway.
Pasha was asleep. In full uniform, on top of the covers, like he didn't mean to fall asleep. But he was there, in Greg's room, just like Greg was hoping.
Pasha was strange like that- he could pass out with all lights on, with music blaring, whenever the hell he wanted to. Greg figured he did so much so fast that whenever he told his body it was okay to rest, it took him up on it right then and there no matter what.
Greg moved in, trying to be quiet. He eyed the unoccupied space on the bed for a second before sitting down in the little hard-backed chair up against the wall that he never used. He peeled his shoes off and set them aside.
Then he sat back and kind of just looked.
He did shit like that a lot. Now more than before, but he always kind of did it. Having Pasha around...it was like he was still constantly surprised by it.
He wondered why sometimes. Why him, what the hell an overgrown dickhead like Greg could have that kept someone like Pasha coming around. Sometimes it occurred to him that if there really was one definite reason why and Greg didn't know it, Greg might lose it, or stop doing it, or whatever. Then, no more Pasha.
But worrying about it didn't get him anywhere. Anyway, Pasha was usually pretty up-front, so maybe if there was something and he did lose it, Pasha would let him know instead of just taking off.
Dumb to wonder about it, anyway.
Still, with the Klingons and seeing him on the ground with all that blood everywhere, Greg had gotten an idea of what it was going to feel like if he did lose Pavel. He really, really didn't like that feeling.
Greg wasn't the kind of guy who thought up a lot of deep things or knew a lot of romantic sort of words, but he knew that something in his gut seemed to ease as he looked at Pasha laying on his bed, and listened to him snoring all quiet and wheezy the way he did. Like Greg carried around this tension all day he didn't even know about. Like he'd been carrying it his whole life, and it wasn't until Pasha came around that he felt it ease up at all.
Plus, shit. The guy was just fucking cute laying there in his uniform with his hair kind of curling out everywhere and his mouth open and his eyes...
Open. Oh.
Greg felt his face go hot as he realized he was sitting there like an idiot just staring, and Pasha was watching him do it. He cleared his throat.
"Hey."
Pasha smiled, sleepy, and stretched himself out longways. "I didn't mean to sleep."
"I can tell." Greg grinned, nodding at Pasha's shoes dragging on the sheets. "Long day, huh?"
Pasha sat up, his cheeks pink from sleep. "It was productive," he said, which apparently was all the answer he was going to give.
Greg sat for a minute watching Pasha work the laces open on his shoes. He thought about telling Pasha about his weird day, about Sulu and the doc and Spock, and Kirk and his new rank and all...
But the words kind of died in his throat. He realized he didn't want to do much at all but watch Pasha working off his boots.
"The reason," Pasha said after a minute, when he was on the second boot, "I fell asleep is because I was waiting on you."
"Sorry, got held up a couple times." Greg sat back in the kind of uncomfortable hard little chair. "Maybe you shouldn't wait for people by laying on the bed. Kind of makes it easy to fall asleep, huh?"
Pasha flashed him a smile. "But the reason I was waiting for you on your bed is because I wanted to talk to you. About it."
"About my bed."
Pasha nodded.
"Oh." Greg waited.
Pasha was quiet until he had both his shoes off. He slipped to the edge of the bed and gave one last big stretch, then stood.
"I've been thinking."
"Pretty much non-stop since you were born, from what I hear," Greg said, though his grin was kind of slipping. 'I've been thinking' wasn't usually a good sign from a guy's boyfriend, was it?
Pasha smiled, though, and moved right up to Greg's little chair. "I was thinking about you. That has only been non-stop for...eighteen months. But that's just an estimate."
Greg rolled his eyes, though his smile returned and then some. Pasha didn't think about him non-stop, he had way too much other shit going on upstairs. But that was definitely not a bad sign coming from a guy's boyfriend.
Pavel didn't stop moving at the chair. He kept coming, hiking his leg up and sitting right down in Greg's lap, facing him all casual.
Greg wasn't nearly dumb enough to complain about this new set-up. He slipped his hands around Pasha's waist to his back, grinning big even as his body started to warm up the way it always did when Pasha was close.
Pasha regarded him, eye to eye thanks to his position. His hands came out between them, long fingers trailing up Greg's chest in some random pattern.
"You know that I trust you." Pavel paused, eyebrows going up.
Greg realized he actually wanted an answer. He shrugged, studying Pasha as if he could make any sense of what was coming just from the look in his eyes. "Sure. Of course."
"Well, I do. You have been looking after me since the day I met you. I know you would never hurt me."
Greg smiled through a sudden return of that nervous feeling. "Good. I mean, it's good you know that."
"Do you trust me?"
Greg almost laughed, but Pavel wasn't smiling. "Seriously? Of course I do."
Pasha met his eyes. "I want you to fuck me."
"No." It was unexpected – like, the last thing in the world Greg was expecting this to turn into – but his feelings about that were clear even when he didn't plan to talk about it. "Come on, I told you before I don't want to..."
"You want to," Pavel said instantly, still calm and quiet like he was expecting the argument. "You are a man, of course you want to."
"No." Greg sat back, his hands dropping to his sides. "I mean...yeah. Of course. But I won't, and that's all there is to it."
"I want you to." Pavel met his eyes, smiling just a little bit. "You've told me before...anything I want."
"Fuck, Pasha." Greg looked away from him. What the fuck was going on with the whole day, anyway? Why wasn't anything going normal, like he wanted?
He stood up, lifting Pasha with him without much effort and setting him on his feet. He paced away from him, but there wasn't a ton of space in that bedroom.
"Greg."
"No."
When he turned, Pasha stood exactly where he'd been set. His smile was gone but he didn't look mad. Just determined.
Greg didn't want to make him mad, either. He heaved a breath. "We really got to do this? You were asleep, and it's late, and I don't wanna do this shit right now."
Pasha's jaw squared. "I don't understand you."
"Nothing to understand."
"You won't even consider it? You won't try?" Pavel's hands were clenched at his sides, but his face still had a crease from Greg's pillow and he looked young and Greg could still see him with blood all over him.
"I know it isn't because you don't want me enough. I know it's nothing like that." Pasha moved in a step.
Greg moved back. "Course it isn't that."
"Then what? You tell me 'anything, Pavel' and then you tell me no when I ask for what I want."
"Look. I don't...I just don't want to do that. That's something else I've told you before, so how come that doesn't count but the other shit I said does?"
"Because I don't understand it. If you said maybe or someday or we can try, I would understand. But you say 'no'. So tell me why."
Greg grimaced. "Okay, here's why – because I'd do any fucking thing you asked me to do, Pasha. Anything. You want something, I'll get it for you. You want me to kill someone? Just point 'em out, I'm sure they probably deserve it. I'd do anything and you know it."
"But?" Pasha's voice was quieter suddenly, his expression a little less stubborn.
Maybe it meant he was really listening. Good. Greg was shit at making himself understood when things were important, but he'd try.
"But. Look, I was talking to your pal Sulu about this earlier. Well. Not this, I mean, not fucking. About my job and how's there's a difference between the job and the orders. Doing anything you ask me to, those are my orders. It's different than work, you know, but it's the same kind of thing."
He hesitated, wondering how bad he was fucking up this explanation.
Pavel was listening, though, waiting. Maybe it wasn't too bad.
"I've got one job with you, Pasha. And it's stronger than the orders you could give me: I keep you from getting hurt. That's it. I look out for you. Nothing's gonna hurt you when I can stop it. Especially me."
Pavel frowned, moving in closer.
Greg didn't back up again. He stood there, hoping Pavel understood.
"You're so sure you would hurt me."
"Hell, yeah. That thing you're talking about...yeah, it fucking hurts. I'm not doing that to you. I'm sorry that's what you want, but..." Greg shook his head, feeling weird and unhappy about saying no, even to this. He did want Pavel to get everything he wanted.
If Pavel kept up, if he kept asking for this, Greg would give in. Eventually.
Fuck, why couldn't one damned thing just be easy?
Greg moved suddenly, closing the space between them because his hands were itchy without Pasha to hold on to, and he had to know this wasn't gonna make Pasha hate him.
When Pasha's arms closed around him without hesitation, Greg grabbed him back. Tight.
"Look." He talked easier with Pasha's hair tickling his chin. Maybe easier because he didn't have to see Pasha's face. "When I first got to the Academy...I knew I was queer, you know, but no fucking way I was ever gonna act on it while I was back home. Nobody else around, really, and if anyone in my family found out, they might've killed me. They'd've put me in the hospital, anyway."
Pasha's grip tightened around him, but he didn't say anything.
Greg let out a breath. This wasn't something he wanted to drag out, so... "Long story short, when I got to California I figured I'd give it a try. Went to some bar and got plastered with this other dude, and he seemed cool. Whatever. And I let him...you know, do that. And it's not anything like you think it's gonna be, I'm telling you. It fucking hurts, and there's nothing good about it."
Pasha drew back, looking up at him with wide green eyes. "You never told me about that."
Greg shrugged. "Wasn't some big thing, really. Dumb mistake."
Pasha studied him as if looking for some lie or something. But there wasn't anything to see. It wasn't some traumatic thing, it was pain, and Greg was used to pain. Greg just felt like shit after and figured maybe the queer thing wasn't for him after all.
Until Pavel came around.
Wasn't worth going into all that, though. He told his story and it was what it was.
Pavel leaned up on his toes and kissed him suddenly, real light and quick. "Do you know something?" He asked, pulling back just a little and looking Greg right in the face.
Greg smiled. Just a little smile, but it was hard not to when Pasha was so near. "What?"
"Your name. It is Russian."
Greg chuckled – Pasha had this thing about Russia. Pride, Greg figured, and listening to him talk you'd think half the shit in the universe came from some little village he grew up near.
Pasha frowned like he could read Greg's thoughts. "I'm serious. Gregori. Gregor. It's a good Russian name, old. Do you know what it means?"
"Names mean things in Russia? I just figured it meant...you know. Greg."
Pasha grinned.
Greg relaxed at that. Maybe this whole thing didn't feel entirely settled, but Pasha was smiling and joking and talking about Russia, so at least the whole thing wasn't ruined, either.
"Gregori," Pasha went on quietly, "means...watcher, I guess is closest in English. To watch over. Protect. It is a good name. For a security guard it's a strong name. For you it is perfect."
Greg grinned at that, surprised. Who besides Pasha knew shit like that? His own name meant he was a protector.
"That's really fucking cool," he said through his grin.
"It fits you, most of the time." Pasha's smile faded. "You protect everyone you meet except yourself."
Greg blinked.
"I'm sorry about..." Pasha shook his head, looking up at him. "I didn't know you had bad memories. If you want, I will not mention it again. I won't ask you for it. But Greg..." His hand slipped up Greg's shirt. "I am not some strange man at a bar. We will not be drunk. And you would never hurt me."
Pasha had always been so much better at this than Greg. He wondered sometimes if anyone realized that. If Sulu or Kirk or everyone else who knew about them realized that everything he and Pasha had ever done had been Pasha's idea, because Greg was too chickenshit to ask for it himself.
Pasha leaned up again, brushing their mouths together. "Greg..." He smiled. "Grischa. That is the diminutive for your name. Like Pasha for me."
Greg smiled at that.
"Grischa. If you tell me no, it will not hurt me, or us. But." Pasha's teeth dug at his bottom lip, his eyes wide and almost shy looking.
Greg couldn't stop himself from bringing his hand up and touching the place on Pasha's cheek where his skin was starting to pink.
Pasha's eyes dipped, but his smile grew. "You will laugh at me, maybe, but I have researched." His face got even warmer under Greg's hand. "I have read, and asked...people, and—"
"Asked people?" Greg's eyebrows flew up. This whole make-friends-with-Pasha's-boyfriend thing the bridge crew was suddenly doing was gonna feel a hell of a lot more awkward if he knew Pasha'd asked one of them about fucking.
Pasha laughed. "Nurse Chapel. It was horribly awkward. It was after people knew about us, but I didn't mention you by name. I just told her I needed advice, because I'm..." He ducked his head suddenly. "This thing Sulu called me about you."
Greg looked down at his bent head. "What thing?"
Pasha mumbled something, but drew in a breath and looked up and spoke with a red face but clearer words. "Size queen."
Greg burst into laughter. "What the hell does that mean?"
Pasha grabbed him suddenly, probably to hide his face. "Sulu says it means I like...big men. I told him I don't like big men, I just like you."
Greg grinned, ruffling his hand through Pasha's curly hair. "My little size queen."
Pasha slapped his arm, but didn't pull away. "You should probably never call me that in public."
Probably not. Maybe in front of Sulu sometime, though. Greg figured it'd be worth seeing the guy's reaction.
"The point is," Pasha said into Greg's shirt. "I got advice. I did research. I have..." His face buried itself harder into his shirt. "I have tried...um. With my fingers."
Greg's humor faded. He looked down at Pasha's hair, curling his arm around him. "You, uh..." For some reason he had to clear his throat. "When did you do all that?"
"When I'm off shift and you aren't. Sometimes...at night, when you're on away teams or..." Pasha shrugged against him. His hands were clutching at Greg's shirt and he refused to look up, which was a pretty clear sign he was embarrassed.
Greg stroked his back, up and down, and for some reason in the pause it was real easy to get a kind of mental image of what Pasha was talking about.
Even just the asking people. Greg could imagine what that would've been like, knowing how forward Pasha could be. Poor nurse was probably more embarrassed than he was.
But it was the rest of it that sort of took over his thoughts. Picturing Pasha in his quarters, or...or even right there in Greg's bed. On his own, naked and laying there all turned on and panting...with his fingers...
Shit. His hands curled into Pasha's shirt. He bent his head, kissing Pasha's head almost absently.
"It makes me want you," Pasha said into his shirt, his voice softer. "Every time I do it I wish it was you."
Greg swallowed and shut his eyes and felt Pasha's hair under his mouth. "We can try."
Pasha went still. He didn't move for a moment. "I wasn't trying to make you feel guilty."
"Were you trying to turn me on? Because Jesus, Pasha." Greg grinned, but he didn't bother hiding his nerves. "Maybe not...right now. But you could tell me about the research and all. And..." His smile went a little bigger, a little lopsided. "Maybe sometime you can show me. What you do."
Pasha looked up then, his face red. There was hope in his eyes that almost made Greg wince. How long had he been wanting this? It must have been important to him if he'd been thinking and asking and all.
Didn't make Greg feel all that great to think Pasha had to do all that alone.
"Just don't..." He let out a breath, stroking Pasha's cheek with his awkward, oversized fingers. "Don't let me hurt you. I'd hate myself."
Pasha nodded, his eyes bright. "I'm not worried, but I will promise you if it makes you feel easier about it."
"It does." Greg felt his face heating. "I've thought about it," he confessed. "A lot. I just..."
Pasha smiled. "You are a better man than you think you are, Greg. But you worry too much."
"Comes with the job," Greg answered, returning the grin and feeling somehow better about all of it suddenly. He was gonna be nervous as all hell, but. Shit. Pasha was a genius, he'd know how to do it right. Wasn't like Pasha liked being hurt, he'd speak up if it got bad.
Anyway, it's what couples were supposed to do. And now that everybody knew their business, and Pasha's friends were being weird and accepting and all, it was like they were actually a real normal couple.
Plus, he loved Pasha. Didn't say it, since he wasn't good at things like that and he really had no idea if it was way too soon to say that kind of shit, or if it was okay to say it whenever he felt it, or what.
Like the sex thing, he'd probably work that out with Pasha somewhere along the line.
"Hey," he said suddenly, curling his fingers through Pasha's hair and grinning. "If we're gonna treat this whole think like some kind of experiment does that mean I get to monopolize your free time for a while? Or you figure you're gonna need Scott and Spock helping out with this one, too?"
Pasha laughed, but clucked and leaned in to him. "Is my Grischa feeling jealous? Or have I been neglecting you? Oh, you didn't work a shift today, did you? I know that makes you grouchy, having too much free time." He leaned up on his toes and kissed Greg. "I think we can handle this one on our own."
"Good." Maybe it meant his next few days off would be a little less interesting and a little more pleasant. "Though, um. Speaking of free time..." Greg hesitated. "I kinda had...might be a dumb idea, but..."
"What?"
Greg shrugged. "You remember that little class they got me to teach at the Academy?"
Pavel blinked, then all but beamed at him with that proud, my-hero look in his eyes that Greg loved so fucking much.
Greg grinned. "Think it's worth talking to Kirk about?"
"I think you are a great man," Pavel answered. "And though I don't understand your hatred of free time, I think this is a brilliant idea."
"Okay. Good." Greg let him go with a last happy kiss. "And hey. It's not my fault I like to keep busy. People are so frigging weird when I have days off."