My Last Faith Part Two
Well, sweet fucking Jesus. He couldn't have fucked that up much harder if he tried.
Couldn't even ask the guy he'd been sleeping with for years to come have dinner with him without scaring him. Way to fucking go, Harris.
Romantic fucking prick.
"Harris! Christ, man."
Greg jumped, pulling to a stop just before he would have run headlong into Doctor McCoy. The doc was carrying about a dozen padds in this awkward heap in his arms, and no doubt Greg would've broke every last one of them.
He felt his face heat. "Sorry, doc."
McCoy just looked at him sideways, like he suddenly had an arm growing out of his head or something. "I know this ship's full of daydreaming idiots, just never took you for one of 'em."
Greg grinned sheepishly.
It had taken him a while to figure out how to take McCoy. He was a strange guy, walking around like he was pissed off at the world most of the time. But McCoy wasn't so bad. He wasn't half as mad as he acted half the time, just he spoke pretty sharp and didn't like wasting his time.
Greg could deal with that. McCoy wasn't so different from the men Greg grew up around. Not the dicks in his family, but the guys around town, the farmers who came in once or twice a month. The guys who didn't like a lot of useless chitchat, who spoke straight and blunt and could give a shit what people thought.
Anyway, McCoy had helped him when his arm got jacked up. And he saved Pasha's life about five times now, and he was one of that group of A-list crew that Pasha thought of as his closest friends.
He wasn't stuck up the way some of Pasha's friends were. Wasn't so dubious about Greg just because Greg wasn't a brainiac the way all of them were.
Greg liked McCoy, maybe second only to Hikaru when it came to Pasha's friends.
So he held out a hand in apology. "Want some help?"
McCoy eyed him, but didn't waste more than a beat before unloading half his awkward stack of padds into Greg's arms. "You got a shift to get to?"
"Nah. Day off." Greg tried not to sound annoyed - other people liked having days off, he knew. He was the only freak who didn't. Well, not when Pasha had to work. When they were both off together...those were good days.
McCoy nodded on, and Greg turned and headed down the corridor beside him.
A minute later, approaching the lift that would take them up to sickbay, McCoy glanced over at him.
"So where the hell was your head a minute ago, anyway?"
Greg shrugged. It was private and he didn't do too good talking about private things with people he didn't know all that well. He was better about it with Hikaru, and of course he didn't like keeping things from Pasha, but...
Hell. That was the whole problem, wasn't it? That's where Greg's head was, distracted by this thing he had set in motion, this thing he scared Pasha so much about earlier.
This thing he hadn't talked to Pasha about yet.
He sighed and followed McCoy onto the lift when the door slid open.
Probably wouldn't hurt to talk about it with the doc. McCoy was like a shrink, supposedly, at least a few of the guys in Greg's division who'd gone through some bad missions got sent up to talk to him.
McCoy was also a blunt guy who didn't blab about shit like most of the gossiping jerks on the crew. Greg needed that, maybe, a lot more than he needed a shrink.
He spoke hesitantly as the lift hummed around them. "You used to be married, right?"
McCoy shot him a look. Instantly wary, Greg could tell. Sore spot. "Yeah."
Greg could tell just from that, that short answer and the dark-eyed look, that it wasn't a good memory.
Funny thing was, Greg didn't know one single couple who was happily married. Not a single one. His folks were about as miserable as two people could get. Most of the adults he grew up around were married, but there didn't seem to be any kind of joy in it. Like they'd picked someone to share their misery with, and things never went deeper than that.
He didn't know many happy couples at all, but the few he could name didn't have rings on their fingers.
That didn't mean the two things were related, of course. Most of the people Greg knew growing up were miserable bastards, married or not.
The lift door opened. Greg looked out for a moment before sighing and stepping off the lift.
McCoy followed him slowly, still studying him. There was something curious in his face, which was probably better than the wariness.
Greg frowned. "You think you'd ever do it again?"
McCoy's forehead creased. "What? Get married? It'd take a hell of a good reason."
"Um. What about just being in love with somebody?"
McCoy stopped in the middle of the corridor, turning a frown to Greg. "Love and marriage don't have a thing to do with each other, Harris. Nobody ever stopped being in love just because they couldn't get married, and a hell of a lot of people who never felt love for each other have put rings on their hands. It doesn't mean shit."
Greg blinked, surprised. "Well...I mean, that's not really true all the time. That it doesn't mean shit, I mean. It might mean something, if-"
McCoy scowled at him. "Doesn't fucking matter. The only person in the universe I'd even consider asking would never want to get roped down that way, so thinking about it is a waste of god damned time."
Greg wasn't the sharpest guy in the world, but he could put together easily enough that McCoy hadn't mean anything he'd been saying as a general thing. He was talking specific, about someone in particular.
Wasn't too hard to figure out who. But Greg wasn't the kind of guy who invited himself into other people's business. Even if sometimes he thought that Kirk was such a bed-hopper because he did want to find someone who'd want him for keeps.
Wasn't his business, though, so he didn't say anything. He just shrugged and shifted the padds in his hands and tried not to turn too red.
"Doesn't mean it would be a bad idea for...for other people. Does it?"
McCoy stared at him hard for a moment, then turned and kept moving towards sickbay. "Jesus, Harris. You're gonna ask that kid to marry you."
Greg lost his fight against turning red, but he kept a step behind McCoy so maybe the doc wouldn't notice.
There wasn't anybody in the corridors, but when they got into sickbay there were nurses around, a couple of guys lying in beds getting scanned or whatever.
McCoy tromped back into his office without more than a grunt to any of the nurses – who all looked like they were used to that kind of good morning from the doc.
Greg followed him back and set the padds on McCoy's desk when the doc dumped his armful. He hesitated, standing uncertainly as McCoy moved around his desk and sat, reaching to thumb the communicator.
"Kirk here."
Greg had this absurd flash of fear, like McCoy was calling the bridge to tell on him.
Instead McCoy didn't even look at him, just sorted his padds. "I need to see your helmsman down here, Jim."
"Sulu?"
"You got another alpha-shift pilot I don't know about? Yeah, Sulu."
"I suppose since we're in the middle of the most boring hunk of universe I have ever even heard of I can spare him for a few. Anything I should be concerned about? Or can gossip over while he's gone?"
McCoy rolled his eyes, and if eye-rolling had a sound than it was right there in his voice when he answered. "Aside from a chronic refusal to check in for post-away-team checkups – a behavior, Captain, that these idiots all learn from you – then no. Despite the fact that every planet you land on has a million diseases and infectious agents that could have come back up with you, your pilot seems to think he's immortal. And I don't care where you are on that bridge, Spock, if you so much as open your mouth I'll order you down here too."
"If you would refrain from constantly indulging in overstatement, doctor, I wouldn't have to open-"
McCoy reached out with a smirk and thumbed the panel, cutting off the calm voice of the first officer.
Greg shifted, feeling unnervingly like he was at attention, waiting for a commanding officer to become aware of him. He was just helping McCoy with some padds, he had no clue if he was expected to stay or go or what.
McCoy sat back in his chair, pushing the padds aside and suddenly looking out at Greg.
Greg looked back, unsure. "Uh. Guess I'll just-"
"Sit down."
"What?"
McCoy pointed to the chair across from his desk.
Greg knew that Kirk's ship was a little less formal than most. He knew that just because McCoy was a higher rank didn't mean that he necessarily had to sit down just because the doc said so.
But training was hard to overcome, and despite himself Greg was curious about what the hell the doc had to say to him.
He sat.
McCoy stared at him, but sighed and shook his head and turned back to the padds, sorting through them and placing them in different stacks over his desk.
Greg waited, more confused by the second.
A few minutes passed before McCoy's door chimed.
Hikaru peered in when the door slid open. "As glad as I am to get away from the bridge for a few minutes in the middle of the most boring shift ever, Chapel says I'm not overdue for any tests or checkups or anything."
McCoy gestured him in and nodded at Greg. "He's proposing to the kid."
Greg sat up, startled out of his confusion.
"What?" Hikaru moved into the office instantly, letting the door close behind him. His eyebrows shot up high as he turned his focus on Greg. Something that looked a hell of a lot like a scowl darkened his face.
"Damn it, are you kidding me?"
Greg felt another weird twirl in his gut like fear. He pushed down against his instant reaction, which was to get pissed and ask McCoy what fucking business it was of his. He did stand up, though, because hell if he needed to get cornered by people he thought were okay with him.
Hikaru pointed right back at the chair like he had some kinda authority over Greg or something. "Sit down. Maybe we can still talk some sense into you."
"What?" Greg stifled rising worry – Hikaru was Pasha's best friend, smarter than Greg, their biggest champion out of all Pasha's friends, what the fuck was so wrong with-
"Harris, sit down." McCoy stood up and moved around his desk, meeting Hikaru halfway, and the two of them turned like they were facing Greg down. "Jesus, man, do you have any idea what kind of disaster this is going to be?"
Greg's worry was getting harder to stifle by the second. "What...it's not..."
"You have no idea." McCoy turned his dark-eyed gaze to Hikaru beside him. "You have no clue. The man sits in his quarters at night and plots for this kind of thing."
Hikaru nodded grimly. "I can imagine."
"No, you really can't. People got kicked out of the Academy because of him. Babies have been born. The man doesn't wager in any kind of sane way."
Greg scowled from one to the other. "What the fuck are you talking about? Babies? What man?"
Hikaru sighed. "Kirk."
"Kirk? What about..." He stopped as more of their words filtered through his surprised brain. "What wager?"
"It should have been an easy win!" Hikaru threw his hands up, and McCoy sighed and went back around his desk, and suddenly they didn't seem all that grim anymore.
Suddenly Hikaru was almost grinning. "He was supposed to ask you."
Greg stared at him. "What?"
"Pavel. The genius little runt who always knows what's best for everyone. He's supposed to do that starry-eyed romantic thing he does, and make the first move."
Greg looked at Hikaru. He drew in a slow breath and looked past him at McCoy. He tried to keep his hands from rolling into fists, breathing out again slowly.
"You made some bet with the captain. About which one of us'd ask the other one to marry him?"
Hikaru smiled, moving to perch on the broad edge of McCoy's solid desk. "Honestly, Greg, I didn't think it would ever occur to you to ask him."
Greg didn't relax. He didn't move. "You made a stupid bet about my fucking life, and came at me like that when I tried to talk to you about what I was-"
"Hey." Hikaru's smile wilted a little. "Don't take it like that. We make bets on everything, that was as good a wager as any."
Greg shook his head, trying to breathe, to let go of the knots binding in his shoulders, keeping him tense.
Okay. Fuck. Pasha's friends were a bunch of cocky, smart-assed pricks, nothing new there. Of course this was all some big fucking joke to them. Of course they didn't give a-
"Harris."
Greg turned his glare on McCoy. He liked the doc most of the time, but for fuck's sake.
McCoy flashed a wry grin. "All it means is we all saw this coming. Hell, we couldn't get anyone to bet on the third choice - that neither of you'd ever pop the question."
Hikaru nodded. "Sucker bet."
Greg blinked, looking back over at the doc.
McCoy smiled, a little less hard and twisted than his smiles usually were. "We knew it'd happen, okay? It's right, for the two of you love-soaked idiots at least."
"Exactly." Hikaru's cheeks were going a little pink, like he suddenly realized why Greg was pissed. "We're just...being supportive. In a slightly less direct way than you maybe wanted."
Greg snorted. "You're being dicks. Jesus."
"Granted." McCoy sat back at his desk, grinning. "You're seriously gonna do this, huh?"
Greg wanted to stay pissed, but the moment McCoy gave him the opening he couldn't stop himself. "Yeah. I am."
McCoy shook his head, but his grin stayed in place.
Hikaru leaned back against the doc's desk, studying Greg.
And okay, maybe Greg was happier when they were being dicks. At least if he was pissed he wasn't fucking scared.
McCoy had saved Pasha's life before. Hikaru had helped Greg and Pasha get past a rough patch or two. These guys were important.
Dicks, but important. If Greg'd really gotten ticked off at them and stormed out, it would've probably ended up with him never asking Pasha anything. These guys were smarter than him, and if they thought it was such a bad idea...
"You know..." Hikaru lofted his eyebrows, suddenly looking at Greg with a new kind of curiosity in his eyes. "Pavel's kind of an old-fashioned guy about some things. He doesn't talk about it a lot on the ship, since there's no point missing what he can't have, but...family means a lot to him."
Greg frowned, but thought he knew where Hikaru was trying to go.
When he answered his voice was kind of quiet, kind of weird for Greg. "I already talked to his dad about it."
Hikaru's eyebrows arched even higher. "Yeah?"
Greg nodded, smiling a little despite himself. These guys were important, yeah, but Pasha didn't love anybody as much as he loved his dad. And his dad...he didn't think it was a bad idea.
Greg really fucking liked Pasha's dad.
He smiled to himself, and dug into his pocket for one of the two things Andrei Chekov had helped him out with. He hesitated, feeling his face heating up, but opened the little box and tried not to feel too goofy holding it out as proof.
"He helped me get this. Guy from Pasha's village made it. Well, he used to live in the village, now he's in some big city making a shitload of money designing this kind of thing, but Pasha's dad helped me get an order in."
Hikaru reached out and took the heavy little box. He barely even glanced at the ring before his eyes shot back up to Greg.
"Wait a minute. You're serious serious. Not, like, space-proposal serious, like these couples that end up engaged for a five-year assignment and then go their separate ways at the end without anybody being surprised."
McCoy leaned over his desk and swiped the box from him. He peered at it and whistled lowly. "Not bad."
Greg looked from Hikaru's surprised face to McCoy's considering eyes, unsure.
Of course he was serious. He knew a few of those couples who did like Hikaru said, acting like they were gonna be together forever until the minute they left the ship behind. But he and Pasha hadn't even been like those people.
Yeah, they had a few arguments or whatever, but most people did. And anyway, every time that happened it just made Greg even more sure that he was completely fucking miserable without Pasha around and probably always would be.
Pasha was the first person maybe in his whole life who looked at Greg and saw something besides an overgrown idiot. Pasha actually made Greg think maybe he really was something more than that. No one ever did that for him before.
Even more surprising? Greg was starting to think that maybe he himself did the same kind of thing for Pasha. Like Pasha, even though he was this gorgeous, amazing fucking genius, actually needed to see something else in himself, and Greg helped him see it.
Or something. Whatever, he wasn't about to say anything like that to Hikaru or McCoy, but at least he could answer them honestly without any kind of doubt.
"I'm serious."
Hikaru's face had softened during the pause, while Greg's slow-assed brain slogged through his thoughts. He smiled at Greg, and something about it made Greg even more nervous.
He moved up to the desk, nodding at the box McCoy still had.
"It's Russian," he said, since something like a ring was easier to talk about than the shit muddled up in his brain. "The design, the three little bands. Traditional or whatever. Pasha's dad says it's kind of old school, but he has one like it, and so did Pasha's mom. So I think Pasha'll like it."
McCoy held the box out to him, and that weird soft-eyed kind of look like Hikaru had was on his face too. "I'd say you did good, Harris."
Greg shrugged. He took the box and looked down at the ring. He liked it, the strange little design like three littler rings all tangled together. They didn't come apart or anything, it was just shaped to look like they were separate, and they were shaded different, like different kinds of gold. Maybe it was old school in Russia but Greg never saw one like it before.
The guy who made it, Yudashkin, he wrote up this whole little thing about what the tradition meant and what kinds of gold he used and all that. It was nice, made the whole thing feel even more special. Greg had that letter folded up and stashed in with his gym stuff, which was maybe a little less special than it deserved but there weren't many places he was sure Pasha wouldn't stumble over. Hell, that's the reason he was carrying the ring around with him instead of keeping it safe in their quarters.
If Pasha didn't want to say yes to him Greg figured he'd give him the ring anyway. It felt like it meant something, and...
Maybe he shouldn't fuck it up by making it part of some idiot proposal. Pasha would really like it any other time, maybe Greg was making a mistake attaching this huge fucking marriage thing around it.
He wasn't even twenty yet, why the hell would he ever want to make some promise to some dumbass security grunt, anyway?
Greg frowned and shut the lid on the box. "So what did you wager his answer would be when I asked him?"
McCoy snorted. "It's not a real bet if it's a sure thing."
Greg glanced over, but when he saw McCoy's smile he couldn't manage one in response.
"Hang on a minute." Hikaru was looking at Greg like he was suddenly confused. "Greg. Are you seriously worrying about this?"
Greg shrugged. "He's too young. He's too fucking smart, and he's too young, and what the fuck right do I have?"
"Oh, lord."
Greg frowned over at McCoy. "He's never even been with anyone else. It doesn't feel all that fair to him."
McCoy rolled his eyes. "Jesus save us from self-deprecating martyrs."
"I'm not fucking kidding around here," Greg answered, heat quick to enter his voice what with him still being tense over their little wager. "I get it, you don't take it seriously, it's some big fucking joke to you guys, but I don't-"
"Greg."
He glared at Hikaru, his hand clenching around the ring in its plain little box.
Hikaru met his eyes, serious – or serious-looking, at least. "Okay, so here's what you do. You pop the question, set some date to make it official. And you make a deal – between now and that date you two can go your separate ways. He can screw whoever he wants, and experience all the awkwardness and shame and bad sex and depressing encounters that all us normal people in the world get to go through."
Greg gaped at him, anger twisting into some kind of panic so fast that it made his voice rise. "What? Fuck that, we're not doing that."
"But it's perfect," Hikaru said. "You want him to be with someone else, don't you?"
"No! That's not what I said."
"Well...he probably wants to be with other people, don't you think? Take a few test drives before he settles on something permanent?"
Greg scowled at Hikaru, seeing that too-innocent look on his face that meant he was being stupid on purpose, to make a point. Hikaru was good at that, at playing along with a dumb idea until it looked even dumber.
It was a sneaky way to make a point, but Greg's scowl faded when he realized what the point actually was.
"No." Funny, but as much as Greg doubted himself sometimes he was sure of that answer. "I don't figure he does want to be with other people."
Hikaru grinned.
Greg returned it a little, though his queasiness about that night wasn't fading and probably wasn't going to until it was over and done.
The trouble with having an overactive mind was that it made stretches of boredom feel even more unbearable.
On a normal shift minutes ticked by like hours when there wasn't anything going on besides the normal duties of his job. During a shift like that day's, when the course was laid out without worry, when there was absolutely nothing of interest in passing space to occupy his attention...time seemed to stop dead.
Pavel tried to keep his mind busy with outside things, contemplating the half-dozen projects and papers he was working on outside of the bridge, but he was having a hard time keeping focused.
When the lift doors slid open he looked back instantly - like everyone else on the bridge - hoping for a few minutes of diversion.
Hikaru moved in, flashing a faint smile at Kirk and moving back to his seat at the helm.
There was an audible hum of disappointment in the air as the rest of the crew turned back to their panels.
Pavel frowned at Hikaru, sliding his chair closer. "Is everything alright?"
Hikaru glanced over, and something odd slid over his face as he looked at Pavel. Odd, but not alarming. "Sure. McCoy's just being McCoy. One little scan and he was done with me."
Pavel studied him carefully.
Hikaru grinned. "Honest, Pavel. I'm fine."
"Mm." Pavel sighed, though, and looked back at the endless passing stars on the viewscreen. "Is it a bad thing that I'm a little disappointed?"
"What?"
"Not that you're fine, just that now there's nothing to talk about again."
Hikaru chuckled.
Pavel grinned wryly at the viewscreen. Perhaps he could ask the doctor to summon him as well. Surely there was some test or another McCoy could put him through.
A prickle of skin at the back of his neck made him glance over again, and he blinked to see Hikaru still staring at him.
"What?"
"Nothing." Hikaru smiled, small and odd, almost private-looking, and looked back at the viewscreen.
But a moment later he looked right back at Pavel. "You know...I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but sometimes you piss me off more than anyone in the universe."
Pavel blinked. "I was just kidding about being disappo-"
"It's not that, Pavel, come on." Hikaru shook his head, and despite his words he was grinning. "You just have to be right, don't you? Every single time. You say these bizarre things and they're always right. You come up with these theories that have even Spock looking at you like you're nuts, but you always prove them right."
Hikaru hesitated, his grin softening. "You make these strange choices that no one can understand, and they seem like they shouldn't work for even a minute. But they do, and you end up better off than anyone ever would have..."
Pavel frowned, even though it was clear from his smile that Hikaru wasn't being entirely serious. Still, that had to come from somewhere. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You will." Hikaru grinned.
Pavel blinked, but rolled his eyes a moment later. "I don't know why I bother asking, you love to be mysterious."
Hikaru laughed. "I do not. I'm just terrible at keeping secrets, but for some reason people keep telling them to me."
"Secrets? You know secrets?"
Hikaru's grin faded and he turned to face the screen fast. "See? Terrible."
Now that he was at least sure that there really wasn't some seed of animosity towards him in Hikaru's brain, Pavel relaxed and slid his chair in a few inches. "Hikaru."
"Shut up. Go away, I'm not even talking to you."
"Hi-kaaaa-ru."
"I'm serious." Hikaru's mouth twitched. "I hate you. Go away."
Since he wasn't serious at all, Pavel gave up and slid his chair back to his own panel.
Hikaru trying to keep a secret was strange, but this obviously wasn't something horrible or he would be much more tense about it. He really was terrible at keeping secrets, but Pavel was a friend enough not to take advantage of that. He could let it go for a while.
Though it left him with his original problem: boredom.
Luckily that too resolved itself within a few minutes. The silence lurking over the bridge was interrupted, finally, by the twitter at the communications panel, and Nyota's instant and eager reaction.
"Captain, we're receiving an urgent communication from Starfleet headquarters."
"Thank Christ." Kirk all but jumped out of his chair. "I'll take it in the conference room," he said, no doubt just so he could smirk in response to the groans of complaint from the rest of his crew. "If it's something interesting," he informed them as he took off across the bridge, "you'll know soon enough."
"Vyhodi za men...zamuzh."
"Vyhodi za menja zamuzh."
"Vyhodi za...menja zamuzh."
Over the viewscreen Andre shook his head, chuckling in that deep, full way he always laughed. "He will understand you, at least."
Greg blew out a breath and looked down at the ring on the table in front of him. "Shit."
"I've told you, stop worrying so much. It's a good thing that you speak Russian as badly as you do. We will know that my son truly loves you if he hears you mangle his language and says yes anyway."
Greg flashed a half-hearted grin. "Great. You're a big help, Chekov."
"I do what I can." Andre studied him through the screen and shook his head suddenly. The beard covering half his face made it hard to read his expression sometimes, but Greg could always hear the smile in his voice. "You will make him happy, Gregor. You already do that much. You must stop thinking of all the things you think you can't offer, and think of that instead."
Greg shut the lid over the ring and looked up again. "I'm trying. Really. Anyway, it doesn't even matter. I told some of his dumb-ass friends about it today, and if I chicken out now they'll blab to him anyway. So I gotta ask him, no matter how I'm feeling about it."
"Good! In that case, I will plan to message Pavel myself tomorrow, so you have one more 'dumb ass' to worry about."
Greg grinned. "You're about as good at cussing in English as I am saying anything in Russian."
"Da, we have much to teach each other." Andre chuckled. "Now you must go get ready – these calls must be expensive, and you no longer need my help."
"Yeah." Greg drew in a breath and flashed a smile – nervous or not (scared shitless or not, more like), he really did like the hell out of Andre. "Thanks for everything."
Andre said something in Russian before he vanished from the screen, something formal-sounding. Maybe a blessing or something, he liked those.
Greg pushed away from Pasha's desk and stood up, blowing out a breath.
Had a whole plan he had to get going with, and Pasha's shift only had a couple more hours. He didn't really have time to worry anymore.
tbc