Title: My Last Faith Part One
Summary: Greg's made his plans, asked advice, bought a ring, and almost overcome his nerves. The only thing standing in his way now is an entire planet, a feral humanoid species of aliens, and a strange atmosphere that renders the Enterprise useless.
When Pavel was fifteen years old, the youngest cadet in Starfleet and anxious to prove himself, having an internal alarm clock was a good thing.
It meant that he never missed a class, he never failed to wake up in time for a last-minute study session before an exam. On weekends it helped him get up early enough to run a few miles before the obscene California sun came up to glare full blast on his pale and fragile Russian body.
But Pavel wasn't in the academy anymore, there was no sunlight on a ship, and sometimes he just wanted to sleep in, damn it all.
His internal alarm clock wasn't sophisticated enough to come with a snooze button, and more often than not he would blink his eyes open into darkness and have nowhere to be for hours yet. It got annoying, especially on off days after a long week when he really could have used more sleep.
Still, he couldn't help but reflect as he woke one dark, too-early morning, there were good things about it, too.
It was peaceful in the mornings, after all. No one looking to him for answers, no one ruffling his hair or pinching his cheek or smirking at his third attempt to make the computer register his commands.
The lights were dim, there was a closed door between him and the whole expectant universe. Nothing but warm sheets and his slowly awakening, sleep-heavy body, and soft snores rumbling in his ear.
Greg didn't have Pavel's issues waking up too early.
Greg had no problem with any sort of internal alarms. He slept until the moment the computer woke him up, and not an instant longer. Perhaps it was an instinct developed working in security, but Greg always woke up entirely from one breath to the next. No fog in his head, no confusion, no moments of semi-conscious sloth.
Pavel? He preferred a slow beginning to his mornings. He liked to wallow, to enjoy the comfort of bed. That was one of the good things about waking as early as he did – his quiet way of waking meant he didn't disturb Greg, and so Pavel didn't have to feel sheepish about his desire to wallow in Greg's body as much as he wallowed in the warmth and the sheets.
He liked to curl in as close as he could without jarring Greg, which meant hardly moving from whichever position he woke up in. Sometimes he ended up slipping back in to Greg, into his broad chest or firm back. Sometimes he only had to roll forward a little and he could bury his head against Greg's chest.
He wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't a little childish, wanting to press himself into Greg and spend a few long, peaceful minutes listening to him breathe. For three years now he had slept beside Greg more nights than not, he should have gotten used to it.
But, three years on, Pavel still woke up beside Greg and became oh so slowly aware of the source of the warmth soaking through him, and his over-full genius mind couldn't think anything more coherent than mmmmm.
Three years on, and his first and greatest instinct was still to wrap around Greg like he was an over-sized teddy bear.
This particular morning Greg was cooperating in his sleep – he was on his side, facing Pavel, close if not quite close enough to make Pavel happy.
It was easy enough for Pavel to slip back a few inches, to press carefully into the solid wall of Greg's chest without waking him up. He began many mornings just that way.
But Pavel could be a greedy little hedonist, and laying there wasn't enough that morning. He wanted more.
Greg must have woken up when Pavel was still trying to haul his arm up and wrap it around himself, because his hand twitched all at once and a low, instantly-awake chuckle rumbled in Pavel's ear.
Pavel tilted his head back in silent apology, but didn't stop lugging Greg's arm over him until it was placed just-so around Pavel's waist.
Happier then, he sank back and settled in to enjoy the few minutes left of another slow, easy morning.
Greg lay silent for almost a minute, but he wasn't wired for lazy mornings the way Pavel's was. He shifted behind Pavel, making the mattress dip just the slightest bit. His hand smoothed its way up Pavel's chest, the backs of his fingers rough and warm brushing across Pavel's skin.
Pavel made a low, content noise in his throat. He reached up and traced the curve of a thickly muscled bicep with idle fingertips. Greg's breath whispered across the back of his neck. Slow, even breaths as if he were about to fall asleep again, but his hand didn't stop its back and forth caress.
There were times when Pavel couldn't help but reflect on this whole thing. Three years of his life was an eternity, as young as he was. Some people lived decades before they found something like what he had with Greg. Some people never found it.
Some people lived their silly teenage years going on awkward first dates and having their hearts broken and never finding anything real. Pavel wasn't quite twenty yet, but he had this solid, happy, real thing with a man he adored, and he couldn't imagine how he'd gotten so lucky so young.
There were times that he wanted to go back to earth, track down an old bully named Matt Lepinski, and give him a big hug in thanks for trying to kick Pavel's face in when they were students.
His papa always said that everything happened for a reason. Papa would have said that the bullying and hatred must have happened so that Pavel could find love. Pavel himself didn't subscribe to that theory; he didn't like the idea that any sort of higher power could see a scared child being hurt as everything going according to plan.
So he didn't necessarily believe that Matt Lepinski tormented him so that he would find Greg.
What he did believe was that if he had to do it all over again and he knew the prize that waited for him, he would have endured Lepinski ten times over.
The warm brush of Greg's lips against the back of his neck drew a shiver out of Pavel. He pulled himself out of his own overactive mind, curling back as if he could somehow push himself even closer to Greg than he was.
Greg's arm tightened around him like Greg was having the same thoughts. His other arm pressed between Pavel and the mattress, slipping around Pavel, pulling him closer with both broad hands.
It sparked something inside Pavel that he never knew he had before he met Greg. Pavel didn't have a particularly hard life – the first taste of real abuse he ever knew was at the Academy, with Lepinski and others like him. But for some reason when Greg was on top of him or beside him, just surrounding him the way he was right then, it seemed to flare up some instinct inside Pavel that wanted to be held. Protected.
Maybe that was childish, too.
Then again, the fact that it usually made him hard didn't seem childish at all.
He smiled to himself as he tilted his head a little, silently directing Greg's mouth to go a little further up.
Greg's chuckle was low, his breath warm against Pavel's skin as his lips traced up to the spot behind Pavel's ear that always made him tingle and shiver.
Another good thing about waking up too early in the mornings? They had time before they had to think of getting out of bed.
Pavel trailed his fingers over the firm curve of Greg's forearm, thrilling silently at the strength that pulsed under Greg's skin.
His body was something that Pavel had adored about him from the first day they met. It seemed like a superficial thing, perhaps, but it wasn't. Greg's body said so much about him. It was a reflection of his personality, a reflection of all the things Pavel loved most about him. His strength wasn't from ego, hours a day in a gym just so he would look good.
His strength came from his training. His time spent in the gym was mostly practice, his sword lessons with Hikaru and defensive classes with his students. He did the mundane things, the weight-lifting and all that, but he did it to make himself stronger. He didn't care about muscle development. He didn't join in with the other security officers when they got into bragging sessions about how much they could bench.
His job was to be strong, and so he made sure he was strong. It was as simple as that.
Greg prided himself in his work, not his body, and it showed in a thousand ways. It showed in his movements, in the way he carried himself. People who focused on themselves, their appearance, seemed to be almost at war with themselves. There was an air of discontent around them, like a wall was built up between their minds and their bodies. It always showed.
Greg was more at home in his skin than anyone Pavel had ever seen. Greg knew his body, knew everything it was capable of. His years of training gave him this absolute confidence in every move he made. He knew exactly what he could do, and his body did it without resistance.
It was beautiful, really. It took Pavel a while to see it - as close as he was to Greg, he let himself get tricked by Greg's insecurities in other areas. He could see the self-consciousness in Greg's smiles and hear it in his halting words, and for a while he fooled himself into thinking that Greg was simply an insecure man.
But he trained with Greg. He watched him teach his classes. On days off he even went to the gym and just watched Greg practice. And he learned, slowly, that Greg could be absolutely breathtaking to watch.
There was no wasted movement about him. Nothing flashy in his training, nothing gaudy or needlessly graceful. Every step he took, every inch he moved, was deliberate. Every step was perfectly balanced, every gesture only what he needed it to be.
When Pavel watched Greg move, he understood why some cultures paid obscene amounts of money to watch trained men fighting each other. He understood for the first time in his life that someone could be as fascinating and as intricate physically as they could be mentally.
There were moments when he watched Greg, moments when every lesson crammed into his overactive brain would vanish and all he was left with was the blinding desire to trace his tongue up Greg's chest, to follow the trail left by a bead of sweat. Moments when he wanted to taste the salt of his damp skin, and hear Greg's steady breathing hitch in a way his workouts couldn't cause, and feel the twitch of those thick, strong lines of muscle under his lips and his fingers.
Before Greg, Pavel would have been dubious that feelings like that even existed.
Pavel had never been interested in anyone before Greg. He was sixteen when they met, after all, and he wasn't used to wasting his thoughts outside of a classroom.
He realized that there were things expected of every man: his father sometimes chuckled over how impossible his grandchildren would be, and Pavel realized that those nonexistent grandchildren were one more expectation that he would have to address one day.
Sixteen, as young as it was, was old enough to have had some sort of crushes on untouchable people. Pavel was old enough to want people, he just never did.
Not until he looked up from a gravel sidewalk and saw a gruff, dark-eyed stranger holding out a hand to him.
That was years ago. He was going to be twenty soon, and that was more than old enough to have let his eyes and his mind wander. But Pavel's brain was a stubborn thing, and he was convinced that the moment he first let himself feel interest in another person, his mind considered that matter to be settled. It stubbornly refused to so much as stir for anyone else.
No one was beautiful enough, handsome enough, smart or clever enough, to make him doubt his first choice. And Pavel was surrounded by the most beautiful and brilliant people in Starfleet. Maybe the universe.
Greg asked him once if it would be okay with Pavel, the idea that of everyone in the universe it might be Greg Harris that was meant to be with him.
Pavel couldn't have found enough words in Standard or Russian to answer the way he wanted to. If he knew how to say yes in a million languages, he would have still been answering the question months later, lying in that bed.
Hikaru could call them ridiculous all he wanted. Who in the universe, if given a choice, wouldn't pick what Pavel had?
Greg chuckled suddenly, soft in his ear.
Pavel smiled when he recognized the sound, the 'you're thinking too damned loud' chuckle. He let his fingertips trail across Greg's arm, back and forth, tilting his head back in silent request.
Greg leaned in without pause, his arms tightening around Pavel as his lips trailed in a slow, warm trail over his neck, to his jaw, and back the way he came until he was back at that spot right behind his ear that always made Pavel shudder.
Breathing a little faster, Pavel slipped back, wriggling his hips back until he could feel Greg, thick and hardening against his ass. With a smile and an uneven stutter of air he pushed back against him, shameless in his intent.
Greg gave a soft warning growl, but since Pavel had no intention of teasing he only arched closer.
Pajamas were a formality they said goodbye to years ago, and it only took a little artful circling of his hips until he could feel the press of Greg's cock against him, nudging between his cheeks.
Greg's breath was warm against his ear, unsteady, but his broad hand trailed down Pavel's stomach. He nudged forward, the smallest little movements of his body rocking his cock against Pavel's ass, nudging a little closer every time.
Pavel sometimes thought that if Greg had as much confidence in everything about himself as he had in his body, he would be dangerous. He felt more sure of it every day, as Greg's confidence in this thing between them got stronger and stronger.
There had been a learning curve for both of them when they first started sleeping together, but with every passing day Greg got more comfortable with this aspect of his physicality, with what to do and how far to push, with the fact that everything he did to Pavel was the opposite of hurting.
His confidence was growing more every day, and Pavel was there to reap the rewards.
He only had to slide his leg forward a little, to open himself up to Greg, before Greg got the hint. Greg's solid chest and thick arm drew away from him, letting him go for a few seconds, and Pavel shivered all over again at the soft sound of the bedside drawer sliding open.
Greg shifted back in behind him, his mouth finding the back of Pavel's shoulder as he reached over and held out a well-used bottle of lube.
Pavel swallowed and arched back into him, taking the bottle in unsteady fingers as he tried to nudge Greg's cock back against his ass.
Greg's mouth worked slowly as he held his hand out, trailing back to the nape of Pavel's neck and pressing slow, unhurried kisses across his back.
Pavel's hands were shaking but he managed to get the bottle's lid flipped up. He squeezed a line of thick, slippery lube across Greg's palm and dropped the bottle.
Greg started to draw his hand back but Pavel reached out, took hold of his wrist.
Greg's teeth scraped and nipped up Pavel's neck, and he made a soft, inquisitive sound against Pavel's skin.
Pavel hummed in answer, taking hold of Greg's hand in both of him. He dragged his thumbs up Greg's palm, slick through the cool lube. His fingers slipped in between Greg's, spreading the lube, warming it between their hands.
If Greg's size was one of Pavel's most shameless turn-ons, his hands were even worse. Calloused skin, broad square palms that made Pavel's look like a child's in comparison. Thick, broad fingers, damp and slick and gleaming with lube as Pavel worked it into his skin.
He knew those fingers, he felt those fingers inside of him in his best daydreams. Strong, safe, steady hands that knew how to open him up until he could come without his cock being touch, with Greg's fingers crooked inside of him, making him writhe.
Breathless, hard against the mattress, Pavel let Greg's hand slip free and started to roll onto his stomach.
Greg slipped his other arm under Pavel, looping across his chest again and pulling him up, back where he was spooning into Greg's body.
Pavel murmured in vague surprise but settled back against him.
Greg's mouth found his neck again, clamping on with careful teeth, working his tongue and lips up to Pavel's jawline.
Slick, warm fingers appeared against his ass, tracing down between his cheeks. Pavel lifted his knee up the mattress, shameless in his eagerness, pressing back against Greg's teasing fingertips.
Greg kept his touch tortuously light, skimming that slick finger over Pavel's asshole, back and forth, circling, bearing down but not firmly enough to push inside. His mouth didn't miss a beat as it traveled its aimless trail across his back, up his shoulder, up his throat. His other hand, locked so possessively around Pavel, took up the tease, fingernails slipping down Pavel's chest, scraping against his nipples gently but enough to make Pavel gasp.
He wanted Greg. All the time, he wanted him. It was everything he used to hear the cadets at the Academy snickering about. Everything he told himself he would never be interested in.
It drove him away from his mind, and that was something Pavel wasn't used to. Nothing had done it before Greg, and nothing had done it since. His mind simply wouldn't ever shut up, even when he wanted it to. He had an obsessive, manic brain that would keep him up for weeks on end puzzling over problems, until he was exhausted and drugging himself for any chance at a few hours rest.
But he could lean against the wall in the cramped, padded training area in the ship's rec rooms, and he could envy a bead of sweat tracking down his lover's stomach so much that it silenced all other thoughts.
It still surprised him. Even then, laying there on his side, Greg's arm clasped around him, Greg's finger teasing at his ass, he couldn't have held a thought in his head if his life depended on it.
He wanted, that was all. He didn't think, didn't know or want to know or want to learn. He wanted.
It was such a physical, mindless thing. And now that he had it, this thing that made him want so hard that it shut his brain off, he craved it all the time.
He shook on the bed, against Greg's chest, just from anticipation. He was hard, aching with it, rocking back against Greg's touch to try to pull him deeper.
Greg made a soft shushing noise against his shoulder even as he gave in to Pavel's demands and let his slicked finger sink into Pavel's body.
Heat prickled against his skin. Pavel's eyes shut and he let out an unsteady breath. He reached up and gripped Greg's forearm, pushing back against his finger.
Greg mouthed the skin at his shoulder absently as he worked inside of Pavel, one finger, and then two, a pattern that they knew well by then. Greg was a master at it, better at warming Pavel up than Pavel had ever been in the days when he tried so hard to teach himself what it was like.
Greg's hands were as deliberate as the rest of his body, as precise and intent in their movements. Sometimes he would hurry the stretching, going carefully but quickly until he was satisfied that Pavel could take his cock without pain. But sometimes he made this his focus, driving his fingers slowly, angling against Pavel's prostate unerringly until Pavel was a twitching, mindless mess.
This time seemed like neither of those two, though. He didn't seem to be in a rush to get to the next part, but he wasn't trying to stimulate Pavel. He was sliding those warm, slick fingers in and out, slow and smooth and patient.
Pavel tried to show his impatience, driving his hips back, whimpering eagerness for more, for the blunt, thick head of Greg's cock against him instead of these teasing fingers. Greg ignored him, keeping the same slow pace. His forehead pressed into Pavel's shoulder, his breathing quiet but speeding up fast as he worked his fingers in and out, in and out.
The thin sheets were too hot against him, but Pavel didn't move to push them away. He shut his eyes, panting, and even though he craved more he could already feel the pool of heat in his gut, the beginnings of a slide into release.
Not yet, though. His fingers curled into Greg's arm, hard, and he whimpered.
Greg mumbled into his back, low, unintelligible sounds in that thick, vibrating bass his voice fell into when he was turned on. His arm clenched around Pavel's thin chest, thumb brushing back and forth over his nipple in the same slow rhythm he used to push into Pavel's body.
Pavel could come from that - he'd come from less before. He knew it and he wanted more but he couldn't stop himself, couldn't pull away or voice any objections. He wanted more but he needed this, any of it, Greg, enough that he couldn't protest it.
It might have been minutes, or seconds, or an hour. Pavel couldn't focus enough to keep time, and the ceaseless rhythm of Greg's fingers was hypnotic.
He was whimpering again, he could hear himself suddenly, and he couldn't have said how long he was doing it before he realized it. His hand was clenched tight around Greg's arm, so tight his could feel his fingers throbbing with that same slow rhythm. His heart seemed to have timed itself to match, his breathing.
On and on, push after push, slow and steady and endless, and he lost himself to the hypnotic pulse of it until it wasn't just his mind that was gone, shut off and inaccessible. It felt like his body was, too. Like the only parts of him that existed were the parts Greg's skin pressed into. Even his cock, aching for contact, seemed numb and distant compared to his chest under Greg's hand, and his back against Greg's chest.
When Greg's fingers drove deep into him a last time and suddenly stopped moving deep in his body, it was like free-falling. Like every internal system that had reset itself to match that rhythm was suddenly cut loose.
Greg's arm slipped from his chest and smoothed down his stomach, and his broad fingertips stroked a line up the underside of Pavel's cock.
Pavel didn't recognize the sound that came out of his own mouth. He clawed at Greg's arm, clenched his spasming fingers into the sheet under him, and with only that stroke of fingertips his cock jumped and pulsed and erupted, twitching into the empty air as he came.
It was blinding for its suddenness, fierce and startling. Pavel rocked into it, and when it was over he sagged back into Greg's waiting chest, panting and wide-eyed.
Greg's lips brushed against his ear, nuzzling into his hair, as he fought to recover. But before he had more than a couple of coherent but half-formed thoughts, suddenly he was aware of Greg's cock, still rock hard and nudging against his ass.
Even in his daze he heard himself, heard the whine coming from his throat as if some part of him still managed to be unsatisfied. He pushed back against Greg's cock, dragging his knee up in unmistakable invitation.
Greg's shaking breath puffed hot against his neck, but his hand slid free from Pavel's body and the unmistakable thick head of his cock took its place.
Pavel's head bent, his eyes clamped shut, and every part of his mind that had managed to switch back on after his orgasm focused greedily as Greg pushed into his body.
He never got tired of it, never even seemed to get used to it. The way Greg felt, the stretch of that thick flesh as it sank deeper into him. The shudder of Greg's body as he fought to go slowly, to spare Pavel any pain.
It started slow, even slower than his torturous hand had moved, but Greg seemed to realize he wasn't going to be able to stall for long either way, and he picked up speed quickly. His lube-slicked fingers grasped Pavel's hip as he drove into him, and he pressed his lips open-mouthed against Pavel's shoulder to muffle his moans.
Then there was a sharp ache in his shoulder, a few last pounding thrusts, and Greg shuddered his orgasm, arm still tight around Pavel as he pulsed inside of him.
Pavel's tired cock couldn't manage more than a little shiver of interest, but that was the thing about having Greg inside of him - he didn't have to come from it. Greg rarely did this without having made Pavel come first. That didn't change the fact that his body craved it, that even after that startling orgasm he would have felt unsatisfied all day if he hadn't felt Greg's cock inside of him.
It was mystifying. It was so far from anything Pavel had ever known before Greg, or away from Greg. The fact that he had become this physical, wanton creature, even just with this man and in this bed, was startling to the sixteen-year-old Pasha in his memory.
Greg was still shuddering as he stirred and slipped carefully free from Pavel's body.
Pavel shivered and tried to open his clenched fingers before he tore right through the sheet.
"Shit."
For a moment Pavel thought that was just a summation, but Greg's fingers suddenly smoothed over his shoulder and he was surprised to feel a pinch of pain. He raised his head off the pillow and squinted up, and saw the unmistakable marks in his own skin that Greg was tracing out with his finger.
He laughed, more air than sound. "You bit me?" He remembered the flash of pain he felt right before Greg came.
Greg, sweaty and disheveled, lifted his eyes from those perfect tooth-marks to Pavel's face.
Pavel spoke fast, the moment the slightest crease of worry appeared in Greg's forehead. "You must not have realized yet."
Greg swallowed, searching his face carefully. "What?"
Pavel had to focus, to consciously order his fingers to unclench. He had grabbed Greg's arm while Greg was still teasing him, and he was only then letting go.
Greg hissed in a breath, surprised. "Jesus!"
Pavel was surprised himself - the marks his fingernails left in Greg's broad forearm were deep and already angry red, and where his index finger had been there was a small line of blood welling up.
Greg lifted up, looking over Pavel at his trapped arm, and the worry left his eyes. He laughed, ragged and relieved.
"Damn, we're gonna need safe-words if we keep this up."
Pavel grinned even as he brushed regretful fingertips down Greg's arm beside the half-moons his fingernails had dug. He grabbed Greg's wrist and hauled his arm up, tilting his face down to press a kiss over one of the angry marks.
Greg shivered, sinking down on his back and letting his arm fall when Pavel let him go. "Shit," he sighed out, and that time it did seem to be a summation.
Pavel rolled over onto his other side, grinning at the twitch in his shoulder. He dropped his head back on the pillow, studying Greg's profile.
"Morning."
Greg blinked, and laughed. He slipped back onto his side, facing Pavel. "The fact that we just did all that before we even said good morning...I can't tell if that's bad manners or the perfect fucking start to a day."
Pavel reached out, trailing his fingertips across Greg's chest, grinning so hugely that his eyes squinted. He watched his pale, thin fingers smoothing over the curves and plains of that broad chest he knew so well.
Sixteen year old Pasha, living in the back of Pavel's mind surrounded by books and filled with bafflement about the inter-relations of the people around him, may not have understood how he could lose so much of his mind willingly to something so physical. But even that confused version of Pasha couldn't have denied that he was happy.
Really, completely happy.
When he lifted his gaze back to Greg's face, just the soft-eyed smile Greg was looking back at him with was enough to make him want to do it all again.
Instead he just curled in, slipping his arm around Greg and pulling himself in close. He pressed a kiss to Greg's chest, sighing happily as their legs tangled together.
"Do you know what I was thinking about before you woke up?" he asked, going boneless against Greg, peaceful in a way he never felt outside their bedroom.
"What?"
"I was thinking about how much I owe Matt Lepinski."
Greg tensed a little, lifting his head to peer down at Pavel. "Lepinski? From school? What the hell do you owe that shithead for?"
"If it wasn't for him we might not have ever met."
Greg's head dropped again. He was silent for a thoughtful moment. "We'd've met up here, on the ship."
"If I survived that long," Pavel added, wry. "And who knows, we may not have. There are dozens of crew on board here that I don't know. I might have passed you in the corridors every day and never even said hello." He ducked his head, brushing his mouth across Greg's skin. "I might not have ever realized what sort of man you are."
Greg laughed quietly. "Want me to find out where Lepinski is now? Send him some flowers or something?"
Pavel grinned an uneven-feeling grin against him. "Nothing so extreme. If we ever run across him again you could let him live. That would be gift enough."
"I'd rather send him some posies now and beat his head in whenever I see him." Greg's fingers slipped through Pavel's hair, toying absently. "Hell, if it means that much to you I'll even send a card with the flowers, warn him that I'm coming after his ass."
Pavel giggled, eyes slipping shut as he curled into Greg. "Moyo chudo," he murmured into Greg's chest.
"You gonna tell me what that means someday?" Greg asked, voice low and soft as he stroked through Pavel's hair as gently as if he were trying to help Pavel go back to sleep.
Pavel smiled against him but didn't answer. He was fond of Grischa as a nickname for his Greg, and Greg always got this warm look in his eyes when Pavel said it. But his newest term of endearment for his lover felt more right sometimes, more accurate.
He didn't explain it to Greg, what it meant or why he first called him that in a dingy hotel room in a miserable South Dakota town. He didn't like to bring that day back, not even in his own mind much less reminding Greg of it.
"Hey..."
"Hmm?" Pavel hummed in response.
When Greg didn't answer he drew back, blinking his eyes open.
Greg met his gaze but looked away after a moment. He hesitated, his mouth opening and then shutting, and he pulled his hand free from Pavel's hair.
Pavel blinked, his smile fading. "What?"
Greg shook his head, dropping back on his back. "Nothing."
It wasn't nothing, Pavel could tell that easily enough. Something in Greg's eyes looked almost troubled. And that was a bad sign, especially considering that they were both still sweating and flushed from their romp minutes ago.
He pushed himself up, leaning on his elbow to look down at Greg. "What is it?"
Greg grinned weakly. "Nothing. Really. I just...you know. Shit."
Pavel smiled after a moment, scratching a gentle fingernail down Greg's chest. "Just say it. You know I hate it when you silence yourself."
Greg drew in a breath. His eyes moved back to Pavel's face, and maybe he wasn't troubled after all. It was something else. Not anything horrible, maybe, but it wasn't simple happiness either.
Pavel frowned. "Tell me, or I'll worry."
"I just..." Greg sighed again, rolling his eyes. "Fuck, I'm crap at this."
Pavel raised his eyebrows, regarding him, waiting.
Greg drew in a deep breath and seemed to hold it. "What're you doing after shift tonight?" he asked suddenly, a rush of air and words that seemed to be far more urgent than that question usually warranted. "I mean...you know. You got any projects or anything? Working with Scotty or Spock or anyone?"
Pavel studied him, but shrugged. "Nothing specific. I can always find something if you're trying to get rid of me."
Greg grinned, uneven but it looked sincere. "Kinda the opposite. You think you could get your busy ass back here straight from the bridge? I mean...we could have dinner. Or something."
He couldn't help a small, baffled laugh. "If we hadn't been sleeping together for years I would think you were asking me out on a date."
Greg rolled his eyes. "I'm just an idiot. That's...I mean, I kind of am, actually. Just, you get busy sometimes and I wanted to...um. Talk to you. About something."
A little flutter of nerves invaded Pavel's stomach. His smile faded. "About what?"
Greg shrugged. "Nothing bad. I think." He almost looked the way Pavel felt, like nerves were churning in his gut. He sucked in a strengthening rush of air and managed to hold Pavel's confused gaze. "Really. I kinda wanted to set up something nice tonight, and talk to you about something. That's all."
Pavel regarded him, wary, but of course he nodded. If Greg wanted him there he would be there. Greg asked ridiculously little of him, really.
He smiled, though his instincts were chirping at him that something was going on. "I'll be here."
Greg returned the smile, strained at the edges. "Good. Okay."
"You realize that I'm going to wonder about this all day. You are very cruel to do this to someone who can't shut his mind up for two minutes."
Greg grinned, the strain fading back. "Your own fault for being a genius," he answered without remorse.
Pavel pushed himself up, stretching his body out and feeling his contentment returning with every twitch of tired, happy muscles.
"Hey..." Greg reached out and grabbed his hand to keep him from standing. "I...you know." He rolled his eyes at himself. "Love you, Pasha."
That at least seemed shadowless and sincere. Pavel smiled instantly, squeezing his hand. "I love you too."
Greg grinned, and Pavel pushed to his feet with a little less of a flutter in his gut.
To be continued...