Prompt Fic: "Dancing About Architecture", (2/2), Genderswap!Sulu/Chekov, NC-17
Posted in its entirety in my DW, and broken into two parts here for sheer awesomeness.
Dancing About Architecture (2/2)
Author: _beetle_
Beta: vinniebatman ::waves::
Fandom: ST:XI
Pairing: Girl!Sulu/Girl!Chekov, Girl!Sulu/Girl!Kirk, mention of other slash and het pairings
Rating: Soft core NC-17
Word Count: Get thee to a nunnery!
Notes/Warnings: Genderswap of more than one crew-member, mentions of minor character death, mentions of violence. Spoilers for TOS S1, Ep4 The Naked Time. Also, please note that wherever “Mr.” is used, it is on purpose and part of the 'verse.
Summary: Written for book_addict43's prompt, communicating in real words is difficult. So is communicating in the written word. Go figure.
Part I
Nirvana: Been A Son
“So whose face are you imagining on that wall, Lieutenant, Riley's or mine?”
Hikaru doesn't even have to think that one over. Just spin kicks the wall again with a low, clipped kai. Then punches the wall until Kirk's hands settle on her tense, sweaty shoulders. She stops, and for a few moments sags back into a Kirk-style massage.
“So. Thanks to you, one of my Lieutenants-who's still recovering from being gut stabbed, by the way-is back in Sickbay having his front teeth regrown,” Kirk mentions, as if Hikaru might not have known. She steps away from the massage and sits on the narrow brig bunk. Stares at her bruised, slightly swollen hands even as Kirk stares at her.
“If you're waiting for me to feel guilty, I'll be cooling my heels in here an awful long time.”
“Two weeks.” There's a twinkle in Kirk's voice that means she's mildly amused. Hikaru's used to it, but still doesn't like it. “Maybe the peace and quiet'll do you good.”
“Maybe it will.”
Kirk stares at her for awhile longer, then sighs and sits next to her. She smells like some expensive perfume, as always. Hikaru's sure she, herself, smells like sweat, blood, and confinement.
“There's nothing wrong with being in love with her, H. You could do a lot worse. Hell, ya already have,” she adds wryly. Cue that charming grin, no doubt.
“Look, just because you don't have the spine to tell McCoy how you feel, don't project your drama onto me and Chekova. She and I are friends. That's all.”
“Wait-what, ah, makes you think I have feelings for Bones?” Cue the shifty eyes, if Hikaru knows Kirk. And she does. Maybe not as well as McCoy, but still. . . .
She grits her teeth, then forces herself to relax. There's really no reason to be tense, anyway. None at all. “Don't tell me if McCoy offered himself to you on a platter you wouldn't eat him up with a spoon.”
“Bones? Of course not! That's silly!” And cue that deep, sexy, rich laugh that's about as sincere as a used transport salesman. Kirk's real laugh is a silly, almost dainty little tee-hee-hee, interspersed with very unsexy guffaws. “We don't even have any, ah, chemistry, or whatever. Just because we had sex once, like, a year ago--”
Hikaru looks up, quirking her eyebrows. “Jenn, you named that goddamn novelty dildo Leonard!”
“Only because it reminded me of his dick, not because I--” Kirk tugs on her hair. She's been growing it out, and it's nearly chin-length; but this is the first time Hikaru's ever seen her tug on it. Kirk doesn't do nervous, let alone nervous gestures. “God, you drive me fucking crazy, lately!”
“Feeling's mutual.”
Kirk tugs on her hair some more.
“I'm not in love with Bones,” she mutters eventually, rubbing the back of her neck and crossing her ankles. Hikaru crosses her arms.
“Well, I'm not in love with Chekova.”
Kirk's real laugh makes a brief, sardonic appearance. “You know, you're . . . you're probably the densest smart person I've ever met.”
“Right backatcha, babe.” No, Hikaru is not offended.
Kirk leans back against the wall, eyes raised to the ceiling like a martyr begging for strength and patience. Then she links their arms loosely and leans her head on Hikaru's sweaty shoulder. “Look, we can deal with my clearly unrequited feelings for a macho, violent, stubborn blockhead another time. Right now, brig-girl, it's your turn. You put a member of my crew in Sickbay because he made an admittedly below-the-belt crack about another member of my crew who's . . . just your friend?”
“He--” Hikaru glares at the dent she hasn't put in the opposite wall, and never will. Leans her head against Kirk's. “He . . . insinuated Chekova and I were the reason Joe killed himself.” More liked hurled bald accusations in the midst of a relatively crowded mess, not five days after the clusterfuck at PSI 2000. He'd shuffled in, still pale and rubbery about the legs-his second AWOL from the infirmary, and whomever was playing nursemaid had probably gotten the sharpest, worst side of McCoy's tongue-seen Chekov and Sulu about to sit down together, and started screaming at them.
Oddly enough, that lunch-that-never-was had been the first time Hikaru and Chekova had dared to meet with each other since PSI 2000.
“Well, he was wrong. Lashing out at the most convenient people, and wrong. A virus is the reason Joe killed himself. Lieutenant Riley will accept that, with or without the counseling available to every Starfleet officer aboard this ship . . . or he'll be reassigned.”
Hikaru smiles a little. Kirk is badass, and badass is Hikaru's turn-on. Though she's recently discovered other equally powerful turn-ons, such as the damsel in distress. Hence her little vacation in Club Brig.
“It's really not your fault. Or Chekova's,” Kirk adds, cupping Hikaru's cheek just like she did that day in the Mess. “This whole situation's nothing but a cartload of ifs. If Tormalen had kept his hazmat suit sealed. If he'd remembered to tell Bones that he hadn't. If he and Chekova had broken up a day later-or even a day sooner. If Tormalen hadn't pulled a knife on you. If Riley hadn't jumped between you two and gotten the worst of it--” here, Hikaru winces, and remembers that the man whose teeth she knocked down his throat is also the man who'd probably saved her life.
“If only he had come to his senses before hurting his best friend and turning the knife on himself,” Hikaru whispers, closing her eyes to stop tears from falling. She sniffs. “Chekova's dealing with survivor's guilt, and guilt over . . . what happened between us while we had that damn virus. Maybe I shouldn't have been so . . . vehement in defending her, but God, the last thing she needed was-”
“For someone she loves to get tossed into the brig over something stupid.” Cue the raised eyebrow that's normally a turn on. But Hikaru hasn't been turned on by anything since waking up, virus-free, four days ago. “And as romantic as it is to defend your fair maiden's honor, I think she'd much prefer it if you were in her arms, rather than the hoosegow.”
“Damnit, Jenn, I don't--it's not like that!”
“Dude, we've all seen video footage that says otherwise, thanks to Riley.” Who'd somehow, after major surgery and having been hypo'd to the gills, had then woken up and managed to drug Hikaru, Chekova, and Nurse Chapel. Then he'd snuck his way down to engineering, took control of the ship, and used the ship-wide address system to air security footage of Hikaru and Chekova fucking. Not that many people were any shape to notice or care. Not even when the footage had switched to a still photo of Joe Tormalen in his graduation reds, grinning.
Riley had still been singing “Danny Boy” in a strangely stirring voice, when Scotty and the others finally broke in.
All very touching, Hikaru's heard, till he got it into his head to show them all the ultimate mercy by steering the ship into Psi 2000.
“Wasn't a damned system he didn't get into, except the ones encrypted by Chekova. It may be he's wasted at the helm, with skills like that,” Kirk muses.
Leave it to Kirk to always be thinking of ways to make Enterprise run more efficiently. Though Hikaru couldn't be happier to never look across the helm and see Riley again. In fact, Chekova's more than proved she's ready to be senior navigator-had proved that during the Narada Incident, even though Hikaru's not sure she could bear sitting next to her after . . . everything. Especially since--”She's only seventeen. I could never, in my right mind--”
“H, she's almost nineteen. She's an adult. She can handle whatever stupid shit Riley says, and she can even handle the creepy, ninja-silent obsession of a woman who'd rather punch crew-mates and/or walls, than admit how she feels. Polina's an adult, and you're the only person who refuses to accept that.” Kirk sits up, and Hikaru has to look up to meet her eyes. After a good, long, hard stare, Kirk brushes Hikaru's hair off her face and smiles.
“You're so . . . so fucking fearless, H. So stop settling, grow a pair, and go after what you want.”
“I told you--” but it's no use talking around Jenn Kirk's tongue when she means to keep you from talking. It's only when Hikaru slides a hand under Kirk's short, short, suicidally short skirt (she's wearing panties today, more's the pity) that Kirk breaks away, breathing hard and looking resolute.
“Don't come around anymore, okay?” There's nothing joking or humorous about her eyes, or the grim set of her mouth. She stands up, looking every inch The Captain, and Hikaru feels a strange pang inside. Faint, but there. And she knows what's coming next. “We can still be friends-we'd damn well better be--but the fucking part of our friendship is over.”
“Because you think I'm in love with Chekova.”
“Because whatever we had was comfortable; easy and hot.” Kirk shrugs and her lips twitch up a little, but her eyes don't match even that limp excuse for a smile. “It worked; but only for as long as we didn't have the power to hurt each other, just . . . sting a little.”
Since when do we have the power to hurt each other? Hikaru thinks, truly bewildered. Then she decides that maybe she doesn't want to know the answer. Maybe a year ago, but not now.
When Hikaru doesn't say anything, simply averts her gaze to the barely detectable shimmer of forcefield, Kirk, sighs. “Well. There you go. We don't work anymore, Hikaru. Don't get me wrong, it was nice while it lasted. But if you ever wanna get any sometime this century, I suggest you work it out with your fair maiden, because the Kirk-coaster? Is closed.”
And with that, Kirk's gone. Not in the usual Kirk predatory stalk, but in a huffy sort of flounce.
A few minutes of staring at the forcefield and Hikaru shakes her head. Turns back to the wall. Bows. Settles into her breath.
Then resumes spin-kicking her own face, and the unbreakable wall behind it.
Travis: She's So Strange
After two weeks, stepping out of the brig is strangely anticlimactic.
Hikaru's had few frequent visitors, other than Scotty (who'd brought whisky, and could disrupt the restraining forcefield long enough to sneak her a glassful or five), Kirk, and oddly enough, Riley, who-after the first quietly apologetic visit-would mostly speak in hushed tones about Joe Tormalen, like a man purging himself.
(“I'm sorry for your loss,” Hikaru had said near the end of that first visit, as Riley got ready to leave, looking lost and empty. Hikaru'd been watching his distracted, tired face for nearly an hour straight, and had come to understand something she'd somehow overlooked in her own obsession. “I didn't realize--”
“Ah,” Riley had waved his hand dismissively, attempting that smile, the one he was famous for. Hikaru thought it'd be a miracle if they ever saw that smile again. “No one did. They weren't supposed to. You, on the other hand were so obvious, it'd be funny if it wasn't so darned sad.”
Hikaru blushed and looked down at her hands. They'd gone past restless to listless.
“Christ, you've got it at least as bad as Joe. Look at ya.” Another attempt at the smile, this one more successful. “This girl must be somethin' to tie you two in knots like she does. Did. Whatever.”
And at that point, where, had this been a novel or a holo, he'd have told Hikaru to go after Chekova with his blessing, or something trite like that, instead Riley had shrugged. “God, I'm glad I'm queer. Like the poet said: you're having girl problems, and I feel bad for you, son. I got ninety-nine problems, but a bitch ain't one.”
“Ah. And which Irish bard was that?” Riley snorted, and Hikaru had tried on a smile of her own. “Kinda makes me glad I'm queer, too. Oh, hey, I'm sorry about . . . you know . . . your teeth.”
Another dismissive wave, even though Riley still looked like a man with severe underbite, and probably would for at least another three days. “Forgiven. You aren't the first. You won't be the last. Luck o' the Irish, and all.”
And then, interestingly enough, Nurse Chapel had shown up to remind Riley about his regeneration appointment in Sickbay. Which wasn't for another another hour, as Riley had then pointed out. At which point, Nurse Chapel had gotten unusually flustered, stammered something about just making sure Riley put aside the time. Then he was hurrying out the door: a tall, slim, normally cool blond beautiful enough to turn even Hikaru's head for a moment.
Riley and Hikaru had exchanged a look. Then she'd shrugged and grinned. “Hey, I feel bad for you, son. But I got ninety-nine problems and a dick ain't one.”)
But the one person Hikaru's wanted to see most hasn't been by, even once.
With a weary good bye to the security personnel on duty, Hikaru shuffles toward the door. When it opens, she sees that one person leaning on the wall across the way, arms crossed over her chest, face anxious and wary. Long legs cross at the ankles, like she's been standing there for awhile.
Kirk and Riley were right. I love you, Hikaru would say, but can't quite. Instead, she rolls her shoulders and grins. “Walk me to my quarters?”
Chekova nods once, but doesn't smile, letting Hikaru lead the way.
*
Once they reach Hikaru's quarters, Chekova steps in with only a slight hesitation, looking around with big, cataloguing eyes.
“There should still be some food in my mini-fridge, help yourself, make yourself at home. I'm in desperate need of a shower.” One foot in the bathroom she shares with Lieutenant Hansen, and one foot out, she looks over her shoulder at a still-cataloguing Chekova. “You'll be here when I get out, right?”
Chekova's eyes tick to her own, and she stares for a long time before nodding solemnly. “I will.”
“Good.”
Still, Hikaru takes the fastest sonic shower on record, brushes her teeth at one quarter light-speed, throws on her bathrobe and emerges to find Chekova in almost exactly the same spot, looking at Hikaru's bed like it's made of venomous snakes and poison ivy.
“So, this is you making yourself at home?”
“I was not certain--”
“Hey, you can sit--or, uh stand wherever you like,” Hikaru says, clearing her throat and attempting a nonchalant stroll to her bed. She sits down and from this vantage point, Chekova's a long, graceful swan of a woman, and Hikaru wants to memorize every bit of her by taste alone. “But I'll be honest . . . I'd really, uh, like you to sit next to me.”
Chekova swallows, and closes the brief distance between herself and Hikaru's bed, and sits close enough to touch, but not close enough that they are touching. On the very edge of the bed, cute, knobby knees kept primly together, hands flat on her skirt.
It's up to Hikaru to close this gap, and she does, noting the soft, helpless gasp Chekova makes when their thighs come in contact.
They look into each other's eyes for a long time, till Chekova's start to get shiny.
“I was afraid to come see you. Afraid that you would not want to see me.”
“I always want to see you.”
Chekova looks down, blushing deeply. “A-after vhat happened--”
Hikaru takes a deep breath and holds that solemn blue gaze. “I think I'm in love with you. You're the smartest, funnest, sweetest, most beautiful-holy God, sexiest woman I've ever known, and ever will know. I'm pretty sure it's premature and irresponsible to says this, but even if there were a better woman out there, I wouldn't want her, because . . . I want you. No one else. You're the woman for me, and if I haven't fucked things between us up too badly, I think that maybe . . . I could be the woman for you. I'd sure like to try, anyway.”
Chekova's eyes widen, but her brow furrows. “You . . . love me, too? But the wirus-”
“If not for that virus I'd have gone on lying to myself about how badly I need you.” Hikaru covers Chekova's hand with her own and chews her lip. “Only--I've never felt this way about anyone, let alone someone I saw as a kid, to be protected and--”
“I am not a kid,” Chekova says angrily, whipping her hand away and crossing her arms. She glares off at Hikaru's view-screen. “I am old enough to be navigator and man the conn, but not old enough for you to fuck?”
“Chekova--”
Now that angry gaze is back on Hikaru, pining her, not that she has intentions of going anywhere. Ever. “If, as you claim, you love me, vhy, vhy vill you not call me Polina . . . as you did in Sickbay?”
“--the thing is, I really would like to be your girlfriend--”
“--then you cannot call me Chekova anymore. At least not off-duty. Call me Polina.”
“Polina, then--”
Polina's arms uncross, and her posture becomes less rigid. The eyes that meet Hikaru's are wary, once again, but hopeful. “But I vould like it better if you called me 'Lina'.”
This is said so defensively, Hikaru bites back her chuckle and nods once. “Lina. I'd like to be your girlfriend. And just to keep you informed as to my intentions, if the whole girlfriend-thing goes as well as I know it will, I'd like you to be my wife. You know, someday. If that's okay with you.”
“Oh,” Polina says, blinking. Then even more, as tears roll down her face. “Oh, Hikaru!”
Then she's throwing long, surprisingly strong arms around Hikaru and hugging her hard and speaking in tear-logged Russian.
Hikaru's never really understood women, but she's always understood when to keep her mouth shut, and just be the strong-silent type.
When Polina cries herself out, Hikaru lays them both down, shifting a pliant, sniffling Polina onto her side, spooning behind her, one arm acting as pillow, the other as safety-belt. She kisses the riotous frizz of curls tickling her face, and there they lay in silence, but for the sounds of their breathing.
“Hikaru?”
Half asleep (she could count on two hands the number of hours she slept on the brig palet) Hikaru mumbles: “Hmm?”
“I . . . I am three and vone-quarter months pregnant,” Polina whispers tearily, and Hikaru bolts up like she's been shocked and scoots to the foot of the bed.
“I knew it. I knew--” this was too good to be true, she almost says, but doesn't. She also doesn't flinch when Polina starts crying again, though it's a near thing because Polina may not be like her little sister, anymore, but if there's one thing Hikaru refuses to stand for, it's someone hurting the person she cares for most.
And Polina is-will always be that person, whether or not Hikaru wants that to be so, and no matter that she's pregnant with Joe Tormalen's baby.
Fuck, a baby! She thinks, with more chagrin than horror. Slipping momentarily into older sister mode, she wants to ask what in hell Polina was thinking, not going on birth control once she started sleeping with Joe. Or why she wasn't on birth control in the first place--
Because I was the one she wanted to be with, not Joe. She didn't think she'd need it.
Which not only quiets the territorial beast hiding just under her skin, but makes her heart, stomach-the very core of her clench painfully, before releasing.
Then she's crawling back up the bed to Polina, who's hiding her face in Hikaru's pillow, sobbing hard enough that she's shaking a little. She looks so alone, and far too young to be anyone's mother. A baby having a baby.
God, look at her, broken open without me saying a word. She's so defenseless, sometimes. How on Earth is she gonna teach this kid how to defend itself? Who's going to protect them? Who's gonna make sure they're taken care of like they deserve to be? Who's--
“I am,” Hikaru says, brushing Polina's hair behind her ear. When Polina looks over her shoulder, her face is red, and covered in tears. Her pale eyes swim in a sea of garnet and Hikaru's mind is instantly made up. Her heart has found its magnetic north, and its course will never be altered.
“Pregnant,” she says with an awkward little laugh. “Damn, I'm good.”
Polina snorts rather unladylike, utterly room-brightening laughter that's light years better than any damn tinkling giggle, even as it turns into near-silent weeping.
“I love you. I love you and the baby,” Hikaru says, kissing it into Polina's skin and whispering it into her hair. “Please don't cry. I love you.”
Polina doesn't resist when Hikaru holds her tighter, but she does stop shaking; even lightens up on the crying. “You cannot love someone you do not know, Hikaru!”
It occurs to Hikaru that Polina might mean either the baby, or herself, or both.
Well, maybe that's true, maybe it's not; that someone can't love a person they don't know. But Hikaru reckons that Polina doesn't know the child she's carrying. And she also has no doubt Polina loves said child fiercely. Granted the processing's going to be a while--all the physical, mental and emotional effects of this pregnancy. Going to be a while for both of them to truly process. But in the mean time, they love each other, And with the same utter calm and zen she feels before missions, Hikaru knows that Polina is it for her, and even a year of miscommunications and relationships with other people couldn't change that. They're committed to each other; to this baby, which is no small committment.
So for now, Hikaru holds Polina even tighter and burrows through all that hair till she can kiss the soft, downy back of her neck. Doesn't miss the way Polina automatically fits her long body into Hikaru's, managing to seem somehow smaller, even though she's not. “The baby's a part of you, and I love you, Polina.”
Polina makes a rude, but half-hearted noise. “You cannot tell me this-me, pregnant with a dead man's child-was what you wanted, Hikaru,” she says bitterly.
“I wanted you. I got you. Everything else is icing on the cake.” And here's something worth remembering: Polina shivers hard when the nape of her neck is nuzzled. “Hey, wanna name the baby 'Icing'?”
When the snorts and sobs have trickled off, Polina whaps Hikaru on the arm, then leaves her hand there, stroking and petting. “If the baby is a girl, I would name her Margarete after my mother.”
Hikaru's rubs her hand over Polina's stomach in slow circles, imagining the small, barely-formed person inhabiting it. All she can picture is a smiling, pink-cheeked little face with a big, bright smile and curls tumbling down to obscure pale blue eyes. Trusting, open, unguarded eyes like Polina's.
I'll have to teach her or him street-smarts. And how to fence and fight; how to meditate and be mindful, she thinks, bemused and still gobsmacked at the idea of-assuming it's what Polina wants--maybe being a co-parent to this child. She suspects she'll be in such a state until this kid graduates from Starfleet. “And if the baby's a boy?”
Polina is silent for such a long, long time, Hikaru's suddenly sorry she asked and can't imagine raising her rival's child, if said child's name recalls everything Hikaru would otherwise put behind her. At least, she can't imagine it for a moment.
Then, the curly hair on the child in her imagination darkens and straightens, till the curls are more of a wave. The eyes darken to a warm hazel, and the pink of those chubby cheeks is almost lost in a more olive skin tone.
But that smile . . . that smile is still the same.
“If the baby is a boy, then Maksimillian, after my grandfather,” Polina says quietly, and Hikaru knows that wasn't what she'd initially chosen as a boy's name.
Firmly putting away the thought that even dead, Joe Tormalen still has Polina in a way Hikaru never will, she exercises that hallmark of the Sulu lineage: graciousness, even to ones's rivals. It's a trait Hikaru's occasionally found it difficult to embody, but now. . . .
It's just as difficult, but the stakes, the gains are so much higher than they've ever been.
“Hmm . . . what about Maksimillian Josef? In honor of Joe?”
“Oh, I . . . oh, yes. But that would not . . . bother you?” Polina's voice is quiet, breathy and hopeful.
“It'll take some getting used to, but I expect I will.” Hikaru lets it lie there, for now. “Can you stay, for awhile?”
“Till you fall asleep?”
Hikaru barks a quiet laugh. Irony's a bitch. “For as long as you want?”
“The Keptin let me switch shifts with Lieutenant Riley. I have the next sixteen hours.”
“Good.” Hikaru shifts them both till their just right, then drops into the first decent sleep she's had in two weeks, holding onto her family the whole while.
Soundgarden: Burden In My Hand
Their quarters are completely dark, and Lina's breathing is soft and even.
There'll never be a better time than right now, Hikaru thinks, easing down the bed, till her face is level with Lina's small, but noticeably rounded stomach. At six and a half months, she's very suddenly started to show. She no longer goes on away missions and maintenance has had to adjust the ergonomics of her chair and the safety-belt.
She settles her hand on top of and presses her lips gently to the side of Lina's cotton-covered baby-bulge. She has never and will never love two people more than she loves the two in her bed and under her care.
“So. I figure it's about time we got some things straight, just you and me, 'kay?” she murmurs, very softly, so as not to wake Lina, who doesn't get much sleep with the way baby Chekova kicks most nights. “I'm not here to steal your mom from you. We both have places in her life, and neither of us could hope to replace the other.
“I'm not here to replace your dad, either. He was a good man, though I was blind to that when he was alive. He loved your mom very much, and would've done anything to protect her. And you, if he'd known. . . .
“I do know that he and I have that in common. I would do anything to protect your mom, and you. And I love you, and I hope that you'll love me, too.”
Lina stirs a little, and lets out a soft sigh. When her breathing evens out again, Hikaru goes on a bit more quietly.
“I'll try my best to give you a good life, even if some of it is spent shipboard. And when we get back to Earth, your mom and I have jobs teaching at the Academy waiting for us, and you'll have a ton of other Starfleet brats to play with. . . .
“But I promise that I'll always make time for you, and teach you all the things a dad should, like how to talk to girls-or boys. How to build model starships. How to render most humanoids unconscious with a single blow. And grandpa Sulu's probably already bought you baby fencing gear. Grandma Tormalen's definitely gonna try turn you into an artist and Grandpa Chekov's already telling everyone you'll be a grandmaster at chess before you're twenty-not to mention your Aunt Aiko's already trying to get your mom and I to sign you up for tap lessons once we're back on Earth--”
“Ai, Hikaru. No. Tap lessons. End of discussion.”
“Knew you were playing possum.” Hikaru grins, and kisses Lina's stomach softly. A sleep-heavy hand settles in her hair, playing with the newly-shortened locks.
“Vhy you cut your hair, I cannot understand. Vas so nice long,” Lina yawns, only slightly more awake than she is asleep. Hikaru eases up the bed till she can kiss Lina's lips. She tastes like toothpaste and sleep. Like home.
“Still long enough for you to tug on, and tell me just. Where. You. Want me.” Hikaru punctuates each word with a kiss. Under her hand the baby kicks once, like a flutter of fairies, then settles, probably only half-awake, too. “My hair grows ungodly fast, though. If I don't cut it, in four months it'll be back the way it was.”
“Lights at tventy percent.” They both squint as the light level slowly rises. Lina smiles and caresses Hikaru's face, then brushes back two-inch long locks that spike and bristle unless gelled down, and taper to a buzz-cut well before Hikaru's nape. “Hmm. Is cute like this.”
“Cute?” Hikaru makes a face, and Lina laughs, propping herself up on her elbows. She looks amused, tired, and content-fairly glowing. She's the prettiest girl in the whole wide world. In all the wide worlds.
“Yes, cute.” She Eskimo-kisses Hikaru. “Like a sleepy hedgehog.”
“Well, gee, thanks.”
“Like my sleepy hedgehog,” Lina corrects herself and follows up with a non-Eskimo-kiss.
“Huh, I guess that's okay, then,” Hikaru grumbles, then lays back down, pulling Lina into her arms for spooning. As always, Hikaru's hand gravitates equally toward breast or stomach. After a few seconds, her hand settles on Lina's stomach again. The baby's kicking, but sluggishly. Token-kicking. “Guess I'm not the only sleepy hedgehog. The baby's quiet, tonight.”
“Mm.” Then giggles as Hikaru nibbles on her earlobe. “Chris told me the sex of the baby today.”
Which would explain that smug, secretive, adorable smile Lina'd been wearing all evening.
“You cheat! I thought you wanted to be surprised!”
“I do, milaya, but I cannot wait another two and a half more months. Is completely unacceptable.” Lina's pout is audible. And adorable. Even if Hikaru were angry, she certainly wouldn't be able to stay that way. Not with Lina warm and sleepy in her arms.
“Completely.” Hikaru kisses Lina's shoulder blade. Wonders if she wants to be surprised. If anyone can keep a secret, it's Lina, but. . . . “Well? Don't leave me hanging--are we having a Maksimillian Josef or a Margarete Raisa?”
Lina's hand covers her own and presses it to her stomach firmly. There's another flurry of light kicks in response. “Hikaru, meet Maksim, your son. Maksim, meet Hikaru, your other mother.”
For a long time, all Hikaru can do is lay there, and hold Lina. Hold this baby-her son and simply be in love. Irrevocably, eternally in love with them both.
“My son. Our son,” Hikaru murmurs on Lina's shoulder, closing her eyes. Tears get out, anyway. Pretty stupid of her eyes to shed moisture when she's actually happy. Happier than she's ever been.
“Yes, our son. Our little Maksim, the Hedgehog.” Lina says calmly and yawns. “And already he is a handful. I found another grey hair this morning.”
Hikaru snorts and snickers. That's the second of two things she never, ever does, done within two minutes of each other. “Since the Narada, we've all got grey, even Spock.”
“Hmm.” There was a time just mentioning the Narada would send Lina into a brooding funk for days. Now . . . not so much. Hikaru likes to think it's because she's happier, now; and not alone. She's got a fiancee who loves her, and soon she'll have little Maksim, whom they'll both lavish love on, and--
--and the other penny finally drops. Hikaru is done processing and the sudden understanding is made of a ton of bricks that shoot fireworks and rainbows. “Oh, fuck, we're gonna have a Maksim. A Maksim Josef Andrei Chekov! He's a whole 'nother person that you made and we're gonna raise! ”
“Yes, dorogaia moya, we are.” Lina squeezes Hikaru's hand.
“Goddamn . . . goddamn, but what if--” Hikaru clears her throat. Her voice sounds weak and indistinct for no reason she can figure, and she rubs possessive circles on Lina's stomach. Hopefully it'll soothe Maksim and his mother back to sleep. They both need their rest. “What if he really, really wants tap lessons someday, baby?
“Oh . . . well, then.” Lina chuckles, and murmurs something in Russian that sounds affectionate. “If he really wants them, he will have them. For as long as he wants.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Hikaru hugs Lina and their baby closer, relieved. Because agreeing on afterschool activities, well . . . that's gotta be half Maksim's future squared away, right there-easy, like Sunday morning, right?
She and Lina've got this parenting thing so covered.
End
Dancing About Architecture (2/2)
Author: _beetle_
Beta: vinniebatman ::waves::
Fandom: ST:XI
Pairing: Girl!Sulu/Girl!Chekov, Girl!Sulu/Girl!Kirk, mention of other slash and het pairings
Rating: Soft core NC-17
Word Count: Get thee to a nunnery!
Notes/Warnings: Genderswap of more than one crew-member, mentions of minor character death, mentions of violence. Spoilers for TOS S1, Ep4 The Naked Time. Also, please note that wherever “Mr.” is used, it is on purpose and part of the 'verse.
Summary: Written for book_addict43's prompt, communicating in real words is difficult. So is communicating in the written word. Go figure.
Part I
Nirvana: Been A Son
“So whose face are you imagining on that wall, Lieutenant, Riley's or mine?”
Hikaru doesn't even have to think that one over. Just spin kicks the wall again with a low, clipped kai. Then punches the wall until Kirk's hands settle on her tense, sweaty shoulders. She stops, and for a few moments sags back into a Kirk-style massage.
“So. Thanks to you, one of my Lieutenants-who's still recovering from being gut stabbed, by the way-is back in Sickbay having his front teeth regrown,” Kirk mentions, as if Hikaru might not have known. She steps away from the massage and sits on the narrow brig bunk. Stares at her bruised, slightly swollen hands even as Kirk stares at her.
“If you're waiting for me to feel guilty, I'll be cooling my heels in here an awful long time.”
“Two weeks.” There's a twinkle in Kirk's voice that means she's mildly amused. Hikaru's used to it, but still doesn't like it. “Maybe the peace and quiet'll do you good.”
“Maybe it will.”
Kirk stares at her for awhile longer, then sighs and sits next to her. She smells like some expensive perfume, as always. Hikaru's sure she, herself, smells like sweat, blood, and confinement.
“There's nothing wrong with being in love with her, H. You could do a lot worse. Hell, ya already have,” she adds wryly. Cue that charming grin, no doubt.
“Look, just because you don't have the spine to tell McCoy how you feel, don't project your drama onto me and Chekova. She and I are friends. That's all.”
“Wait-what, ah, makes you think I have feelings for Bones?” Cue the shifty eyes, if Hikaru knows Kirk. And she does. Maybe not as well as McCoy, but still. . . .
She grits her teeth, then forces herself to relax. There's really no reason to be tense, anyway. None at all. “Don't tell me if McCoy offered himself to you on a platter you wouldn't eat him up with a spoon.”
“Bones? Of course not! That's silly!” And cue that deep, sexy, rich laugh that's about as sincere as a used transport salesman. Kirk's real laugh is a silly, almost dainty little tee-hee-hee, interspersed with very unsexy guffaws. “We don't even have any, ah, chemistry, or whatever. Just because we had sex once, like, a year ago--”
Hikaru looks up, quirking her eyebrows. “Jenn, you named that goddamn novelty dildo Leonard!”
“Only because it reminded me of his dick, not because I--” Kirk tugs on her hair. She's been growing it out, and it's nearly chin-length; but this is the first time Hikaru's ever seen her tug on it. Kirk doesn't do nervous, let alone nervous gestures. “God, you drive me fucking crazy, lately!”
“Feeling's mutual.”
Kirk tugs on her hair some more.
“I'm not in love with Bones,” she mutters eventually, rubbing the back of her neck and crossing her ankles. Hikaru crosses her arms.
“Well, I'm not in love with Chekova.”
Kirk's real laugh makes a brief, sardonic appearance. “You know, you're . . . you're probably the densest smart person I've ever met.”
“Right backatcha, babe.” No, Hikaru is not offended.
Kirk leans back against the wall, eyes raised to the ceiling like a martyr begging for strength and patience. Then she links their arms loosely and leans her head on Hikaru's sweaty shoulder. “Look, we can deal with my clearly unrequited feelings for a macho, violent, stubborn blockhead another time. Right now, brig-girl, it's your turn. You put a member of my crew in Sickbay because he made an admittedly below-the-belt crack about another member of my crew who's . . . just your friend?”
“He--” Hikaru glares at the dent she hasn't put in the opposite wall, and never will. Leans her head against Kirk's. “He . . . insinuated Chekova and I were the reason Joe killed himself.” More liked hurled bald accusations in the midst of a relatively crowded mess, not five days after the clusterfuck at PSI 2000. He'd shuffled in, still pale and rubbery about the legs-his second AWOL from the infirmary, and whomever was playing nursemaid had probably gotten the sharpest, worst side of McCoy's tongue-seen Chekov and Sulu about to sit down together, and started screaming at them.
Oddly enough, that lunch-that-never-was had been the first time Hikaru and Chekova had dared to meet with each other since PSI 2000.
“Well, he was wrong. Lashing out at the most convenient people, and wrong. A virus is the reason Joe killed himself. Lieutenant Riley will accept that, with or without the counseling available to every Starfleet officer aboard this ship . . . or he'll be reassigned.”
Hikaru smiles a little. Kirk is badass, and badass is Hikaru's turn-on. Though she's recently discovered other equally powerful turn-ons, such as the damsel in distress. Hence her little vacation in Club Brig.
“It's really not your fault. Or Chekova's,” Kirk adds, cupping Hikaru's cheek just like she did that day in the Mess. “This whole situation's nothing but a cartload of ifs. If Tormalen had kept his hazmat suit sealed. If he'd remembered to tell Bones that he hadn't. If he and Chekova had broken up a day later-or even a day sooner. If Tormalen hadn't pulled a knife on you. If Riley hadn't jumped between you two and gotten the worst of it--” here, Hikaru winces, and remembers that the man whose teeth she knocked down his throat is also the man who'd probably saved her life.
“If only he had come to his senses before hurting his best friend and turning the knife on himself,” Hikaru whispers, closing her eyes to stop tears from falling. She sniffs. “Chekova's dealing with survivor's guilt, and guilt over . . . what happened between us while we had that damn virus. Maybe I shouldn't have been so . . . vehement in defending her, but God, the last thing she needed was-”
“For someone she loves to get tossed into the brig over something stupid.” Cue the raised eyebrow that's normally a turn on. But Hikaru hasn't been turned on by anything since waking up, virus-free, four days ago. “And as romantic as it is to defend your fair maiden's honor, I think she'd much prefer it if you were in her arms, rather than the hoosegow.”
“Damnit, Jenn, I don't--it's not like that!”
“Dude, we've all seen video footage that says otherwise, thanks to Riley.” Who'd somehow, after major surgery and having been hypo'd to the gills, had then woken up and managed to drug Hikaru, Chekova, and Nurse Chapel. Then he'd snuck his way down to engineering, took control of the ship, and used the ship-wide address system to air security footage of Hikaru and Chekova fucking. Not that many people were any shape to notice or care. Not even when the footage had switched to a still photo of Joe Tormalen in his graduation reds, grinning.
Riley had still been singing “Danny Boy” in a strangely stirring voice, when Scotty and the others finally broke in.
All very touching, Hikaru's heard, till he got it into his head to show them all the ultimate mercy by steering the ship into Psi 2000.
“Wasn't a damned system he didn't get into, except the ones encrypted by Chekova. It may be he's wasted at the helm, with skills like that,” Kirk muses.
Leave it to Kirk to always be thinking of ways to make Enterprise run more efficiently. Though Hikaru couldn't be happier to never look across the helm and see Riley again. In fact, Chekova's more than proved she's ready to be senior navigator-had proved that during the Narada Incident, even though Hikaru's not sure she could bear sitting next to her after . . . everything. Especially since--”She's only seventeen. I could never, in my right mind--”
“H, she's almost nineteen. She's an adult. She can handle whatever stupid shit Riley says, and she can even handle the creepy, ninja-silent obsession of a woman who'd rather punch crew-mates and/or walls, than admit how she feels. Polina's an adult, and you're the only person who refuses to accept that.” Kirk sits up, and Hikaru has to look up to meet her eyes. After a good, long, hard stare, Kirk brushes Hikaru's hair off her face and smiles.
“You're so . . . so fucking fearless, H. So stop settling, grow a pair, and go after what you want.”
“I told you--” but it's no use talking around Jenn Kirk's tongue when she means to keep you from talking. It's only when Hikaru slides a hand under Kirk's short, short, suicidally short skirt (she's wearing panties today, more's the pity) that Kirk breaks away, breathing hard and looking resolute.
“Don't come around anymore, okay?” There's nothing joking or humorous about her eyes, or the grim set of her mouth. She stands up, looking every inch The Captain, and Hikaru feels a strange pang inside. Faint, but there. And she knows what's coming next. “We can still be friends-we'd damn well better be--but the fucking part of our friendship is over.”
“Because you think I'm in love with Chekova.”
“Because whatever we had was comfortable; easy and hot.” Kirk shrugs and her lips twitch up a little, but her eyes don't match even that limp excuse for a smile. “It worked; but only for as long as we didn't have the power to hurt each other, just . . . sting a little.”
Since when do we have the power to hurt each other? Hikaru thinks, truly bewildered. Then she decides that maybe she doesn't want to know the answer. Maybe a year ago, but not now.
When Hikaru doesn't say anything, simply averts her gaze to the barely detectable shimmer of forcefield, Kirk, sighs. “Well. There you go. We don't work anymore, Hikaru. Don't get me wrong, it was nice while it lasted. But if you ever wanna get any sometime this century, I suggest you work it out with your fair maiden, because the Kirk-coaster? Is closed.”
And with that, Kirk's gone. Not in the usual Kirk predatory stalk, but in a huffy sort of flounce.
A few minutes of staring at the forcefield and Hikaru shakes her head. Turns back to the wall. Bows. Settles into her breath.
Then resumes spin-kicking her own face, and the unbreakable wall behind it.
Travis: She's So Strange
After two weeks, stepping out of the brig is strangely anticlimactic.
Hikaru's had few frequent visitors, other than Scotty (who'd brought whisky, and could disrupt the restraining forcefield long enough to sneak her a glassful or five), Kirk, and oddly enough, Riley, who-after the first quietly apologetic visit-would mostly speak in hushed tones about Joe Tormalen, like a man purging himself.
(“I'm sorry for your loss,” Hikaru had said near the end of that first visit, as Riley got ready to leave, looking lost and empty. Hikaru'd been watching his distracted, tired face for nearly an hour straight, and had come to understand something she'd somehow overlooked in her own obsession. “I didn't realize--”
“Ah,” Riley had waved his hand dismissively, attempting that smile, the one he was famous for. Hikaru thought it'd be a miracle if they ever saw that smile again. “No one did. They weren't supposed to. You, on the other hand were so obvious, it'd be funny if it wasn't so darned sad.”
Hikaru blushed and looked down at her hands. They'd gone past restless to listless.
“Christ, you've got it at least as bad as Joe. Look at ya.” Another attempt at the smile, this one more successful. “This girl must be somethin' to tie you two in knots like she does. Did. Whatever.”
And at that point, where, had this been a novel or a holo, he'd have told Hikaru to go after Chekova with his blessing, or something trite like that, instead Riley had shrugged. “God, I'm glad I'm queer. Like the poet said: you're having girl problems, and I feel bad for you, son. I got ninety-nine problems, but a bitch ain't one.”
“Ah. And which Irish bard was that?” Riley snorted, and Hikaru had tried on a smile of her own. “Kinda makes me glad I'm queer, too. Oh, hey, I'm sorry about . . . you know . . . your teeth.”
Another dismissive wave, even though Riley still looked like a man with severe underbite, and probably would for at least another three days. “Forgiven. You aren't the first. You won't be the last. Luck o' the Irish, and all.”
And then, interestingly enough, Nurse Chapel had shown up to remind Riley about his regeneration appointment in Sickbay. Which wasn't for another another hour, as Riley had then pointed out. At which point, Nurse Chapel had gotten unusually flustered, stammered something about just making sure Riley put aside the time. Then he was hurrying out the door: a tall, slim, normally cool blond beautiful enough to turn even Hikaru's head for a moment.
Riley and Hikaru had exchanged a look. Then she'd shrugged and grinned. “Hey, I feel bad for you, son. But I got ninety-nine problems and a dick ain't one.”)
But the one person Hikaru's wanted to see most hasn't been by, even once.
With a weary good bye to the security personnel on duty, Hikaru shuffles toward the door. When it opens, she sees that one person leaning on the wall across the way, arms crossed over her chest, face anxious and wary. Long legs cross at the ankles, like she's been standing there for awhile.
Kirk and Riley were right. I love you, Hikaru would say, but can't quite. Instead, she rolls her shoulders and grins. “Walk me to my quarters?”
Chekova nods once, but doesn't smile, letting Hikaru lead the way.
*
Once they reach Hikaru's quarters, Chekova steps in with only a slight hesitation, looking around with big, cataloguing eyes.
“There should still be some food in my mini-fridge, help yourself, make yourself at home. I'm in desperate need of a shower.” One foot in the bathroom she shares with Lieutenant Hansen, and one foot out, she looks over her shoulder at a still-cataloguing Chekova. “You'll be here when I get out, right?”
Chekova's eyes tick to her own, and she stares for a long time before nodding solemnly. “I will.”
“Good.”
Still, Hikaru takes the fastest sonic shower on record, brushes her teeth at one quarter light-speed, throws on her bathrobe and emerges to find Chekova in almost exactly the same spot, looking at Hikaru's bed like it's made of venomous snakes and poison ivy.
“So, this is you making yourself at home?”
“I was not certain--”
“Hey, you can sit--or, uh stand wherever you like,” Hikaru says, clearing her throat and attempting a nonchalant stroll to her bed. She sits down and from this vantage point, Chekova's a long, graceful swan of a woman, and Hikaru wants to memorize every bit of her by taste alone. “But I'll be honest . . . I'd really, uh, like you to sit next to me.”
Chekova swallows, and closes the brief distance between herself and Hikaru's bed, and sits close enough to touch, but not close enough that they are touching. On the very edge of the bed, cute, knobby knees kept primly together, hands flat on her skirt.
It's up to Hikaru to close this gap, and she does, noting the soft, helpless gasp Chekova makes when their thighs come in contact.
They look into each other's eyes for a long time, till Chekova's start to get shiny.
“I was afraid to come see you. Afraid that you would not want to see me.”
“I always want to see you.”
Chekova looks down, blushing deeply. “A-after vhat happened--”
Hikaru takes a deep breath and holds that solemn blue gaze. “I think I'm in love with you. You're the smartest, funnest, sweetest, most beautiful-holy God, sexiest woman I've ever known, and ever will know. I'm pretty sure it's premature and irresponsible to says this, but even if there were a better woman out there, I wouldn't want her, because . . . I want you. No one else. You're the woman for me, and if I haven't fucked things between us up too badly, I think that maybe . . . I could be the woman for you. I'd sure like to try, anyway.”
Chekova's eyes widen, but her brow furrows. “You . . . love me, too? But the wirus-”
“If not for that virus I'd have gone on lying to myself about how badly I need you.” Hikaru covers Chekova's hand with her own and chews her lip. “Only--I've never felt this way about anyone, let alone someone I saw as a kid, to be protected and--”
“I am not a kid,” Chekova says angrily, whipping her hand away and crossing her arms. She glares off at Hikaru's view-screen. “I am old enough to be navigator and man the conn, but not old enough for you to fuck?”
“Chekova--”
Now that angry gaze is back on Hikaru, pining her, not that she has intentions of going anywhere. Ever. “If, as you claim, you love me, vhy, vhy vill you not call me Polina . . . as you did in Sickbay?”
“--the thing is, I really would like to be your girlfriend--”
“--then you cannot call me Chekova anymore. At least not off-duty. Call me Polina.”
“Polina, then--”
Polina's arms uncross, and her posture becomes less rigid. The eyes that meet Hikaru's are wary, once again, but hopeful. “But I vould like it better if you called me 'Lina'.”
This is said so defensively, Hikaru bites back her chuckle and nods once. “Lina. I'd like to be your girlfriend. And just to keep you informed as to my intentions, if the whole girlfriend-thing goes as well as I know it will, I'd like you to be my wife. You know, someday. If that's okay with you.”
“Oh,” Polina says, blinking. Then even more, as tears roll down her face. “Oh, Hikaru!”
Then she's throwing long, surprisingly strong arms around Hikaru and hugging her hard and speaking in tear-logged Russian.
Hikaru's never really understood women, but she's always understood when to keep her mouth shut, and just be the strong-silent type.
When Polina cries herself out, Hikaru lays them both down, shifting a pliant, sniffling Polina onto her side, spooning behind her, one arm acting as pillow, the other as safety-belt. She kisses the riotous frizz of curls tickling her face, and there they lay in silence, but for the sounds of their breathing.
“Hikaru?”
Half asleep (she could count on two hands the number of hours she slept on the brig palet) Hikaru mumbles: “Hmm?”
“I . . . I am three and vone-quarter months pregnant,” Polina whispers tearily, and Hikaru bolts up like she's been shocked and scoots to the foot of the bed.
“I knew it. I knew--” this was too good to be true, she almost says, but doesn't. She also doesn't flinch when Polina starts crying again, though it's a near thing because Polina may not be like her little sister, anymore, but if there's one thing Hikaru refuses to stand for, it's someone hurting the person she cares for most.
And Polina is-will always be that person, whether or not Hikaru wants that to be so, and no matter that she's pregnant with Joe Tormalen's baby.
Fuck, a baby! She thinks, with more chagrin than horror. Slipping momentarily into older sister mode, she wants to ask what in hell Polina was thinking, not going on birth control once she started sleeping with Joe. Or why she wasn't on birth control in the first place--
Because I was the one she wanted to be with, not Joe. She didn't think she'd need it.
Which not only quiets the territorial beast hiding just under her skin, but makes her heart, stomach-the very core of her clench painfully, before releasing.
Then she's crawling back up the bed to Polina, who's hiding her face in Hikaru's pillow, sobbing hard enough that she's shaking a little. She looks so alone, and far too young to be anyone's mother. A baby having a baby.
God, look at her, broken open without me saying a word. She's so defenseless, sometimes. How on Earth is she gonna teach this kid how to defend itself? Who's going to protect them? Who's gonna make sure they're taken care of like they deserve to be? Who's--
“I am,” Hikaru says, brushing Polina's hair behind her ear. When Polina looks over her shoulder, her face is red, and covered in tears. Her pale eyes swim in a sea of garnet and Hikaru's mind is instantly made up. Her heart has found its magnetic north, and its course will never be altered.
“Pregnant,” she says with an awkward little laugh. “Damn, I'm good.”
Polina snorts rather unladylike, utterly room-brightening laughter that's light years better than any damn tinkling giggle, even as it turns into near-silent weeping.
“I love you. I love you and the baby,” Hikaru says, kissing it into Polina's skin and whispering it into her hair. “Please don't cry. I love you.”
Polina doesn't resist when Hikaru holds her tighter, but she does stop shaking; even lightens up on the crying. “You cannot love someone you do not know, Hikaru!”
It occurs to Hikaru that Polina might mean either the baby, or herself, or both.
Well, maybe that's true, maybe it's not; that someone can't love a person they don't know. But Hikaru reckons that Polina doesn't know the child she's carrying. And she also has no doubt Polina loves said child fiercely. Granted the processing's going to be a while--all the physical, mental and emotional effects of this pregnancy. Going to be a while for both of them to truly process. But in the mean time, they love each other, And with the same utter calm and zen she feels before missions, Hikaru knows that Polina is it for her, and even a year of miscommunications and relationships with other people couldn't change that. They're committed to each other; to this baby, which is no small committment.
So for now, Hikaru holds Polina even tighter and burrows through all that hair till she can kiss the soft, downy back of her neck. Doesn't miss the way Polina automatically fits her long body into Hikaru's, managing to seem somehow smaller, even though she's not. “The baby's a part of you, and I love you, Polina.”
Polina makes a rude, but half-hearted noise. “You cannot tell me this-me, pregnant with a dead man's child-was what you wanted, Hikaru,” she says bitterly.
“I wanted you. I got you. Everything else is icing on the cake.” And here's something worth remembering: Polina shivers hard when the nape of her neck is nuzzled. “Hey, wanna name the baby 'Icing'?”
When the snorts and sobs have trickled off, Polina whaps Hikaru on the arm, then leaves her hand there, stroking and petting. “If the baby is a girl, I would name her Margarete after my mother.”
Hikaru's rubs her hand over Polina's stomach in slow circles, imagining the small, barely-formed person inhabiting it. All she can picture is a smiling, pink-cheeked little face with a big, bright smile and curls tumbling down to obscure pale blue eyes. Trusting, open, unguarded eyes like Polina's.
I'll have to teach her or him street-smarts. And how to fence and fight; how to meditate and be mindful, she thinks, bemused and still gobsmacked at the idea of-assuming it's what Polina wants--maybe being a co-parent to this child. She suspects she'll be in such a state until this kid graduates from Starfleet. “And if the baby's a boy?”
Polina is silent for such a long, long time, Hikaru's suddenly sorry she asked and can't imagine raising her rival's child, if said child's name recalls everything Hikaru would otherwise put behind her. At least, she can't imagine it for a moment.
Then, the curly hair on the child in her imagination darkens and straightens, till the curls are more of a wave. The eyes darken to a warm hazel, and the pink of those chubby cheeks is almost lost in a more olive skin tone.
But that smile . . . that smile is still the same.
“If the baby is a boy, then Maksimillian, after my grandfather,” Polina says quietly, and Hikaru knows that wasn't what she'd initially chosen as a boy's name.
Firmly putting away the thought that even dead, Joe Tormalen still has Polina in a way Hikaru never will, she exercises that hallmark of the Sulu lineage: graciousness, even to ones's rivals. It's a trait Hikaru's occasionally found it difficult to embody, but now. . . .
It's just as difficult, but the stakes, the gains are so much higher than they've ever been.
“Hmm . . . what about Maksimillian Josef? In honor of Joe?”
“Oh, I . . . oh, yes. But that would not . . . bother you?” Polina's voice is quiet, breathy and hopeful.
“It'll take some getting used to, but I expect I will.” Hikaru lets it lie there, for now. “Can you stay, for awhile?”
“Till you fall asleep?”
Hikaru barks a quiet laugh. Irony's a bitch. “For as long as you want?”
“The Keptin let me switch shifts with Lieutenant Riley. I have the next sixteen hours.”
“Good.” Hikaru shifts them both till their just right, then drops into the first decent sleep she's had in two weeks, holding onto her family the whole while.
Soundgarden: Burden In My Hand
Their quarters are completely dark, and Lina's breathing is soft and even.
There'll never be a better time than right now, Hikaru thinks, easing down the bed, till her face is level with Lina's small, but noticeably rounded stomach. At six and a half months, she's very suddenly started to show. She no longer goes on away missions and maintenance has had to adjust the ergonomics of her chair and the safety-belt.
She settles her hand on top of and presses her lips gently to the side of Lina's cotton-covered baby-bulge. She has never and will never love two people more than she loves the two in her bed and under her care.
“So. I figure it's about time we got some things straight, just you and me, 'kay?” she murmurs, very softly, so as not to wake Lina, who doesn't get much sleep with the way baby Chekova kicks most nights. “I'm not here to steal your mom from you. We both have places in her life, and neither of us could hope to replace the other.
“I'm not here to replace your dad, either. He was a good man, though I was blind to that when he was alive. He loved your mom very much, and would've done anything to protect her. And you, if he'd known. . . .
“I do know that he and I have that in common. I would do anything to protect your mom, and you. And I love you, and I hope that you'll love me, too.”
Lina stirs a little, and lets out a soft sigh. When her breathing evens out again, Hikaru goes on a bit more quietly.
“I'll try my best to give you a good life, even if some of it is spent shipboard. And when we get back to Earth, your mom and I have jobs teaching at the Academy waiting for us, and you'll have a ton of other Starfleet brats to play with. . . .
“But I promise that I'll always make time for you, and teach you all the things a dad should, like how to talk to girls-or boys. How to build model starships. How to render most humanoids unconscious with a single blow. And grandpa Sulu's probably already bought you baby fencing gear. Grandma Tormalen's definitely gonna try turn you into an artist and Grandpa Chekov's already telling everyone you'll be a grandmaster at chess before you're twenty-not to mention your Aunt Aiko's already trying to get your mom and I to sign you up for tap lessons once we're back on Earth--”
“Ai, Hikaru. No. Tap lessons. End of discussion.”
“Knew you were playing possum.” Hikaru grins, and kisses Lina's stomach softly. A sleep-heavy hand settles in her hair, playing with the newly-shortened locks.
“Vhy you cut your hair, I cannot understand. Vas so nice long,” Lina yawns, only slightly more awake than she is asleep. Hikaru eases up the bed till she can kiss Lina's lips. She tastes like toothpaste and sleep. Like home.
“Still long enough for you to tug on, and tell me just. Where. You. Want me.” Hikaru punctuates each word with a kiss. Under her hand the baby kicks once, like a flutter of fairies, then settles, probably only half-awake, too. “My hair grows ungodly fast, though. If I don't cut it, in four months it'll be back the way it was.”
“Lights at tventy percent.” They both squint as the light level slowly rises. Lina smiles and caresses Hikaru's face, then brushes back two-inch long locks that spike and bristle unless gelled down, and taper to a buzz-cut well before Hikaru's nape. “Hmm. Is cute like this.”
“Cute?” Hikaru makes a face, and Lina laughs, propping herself up on her elbows. She looks amused, tired, and content-fairly glowing. She's the prettiest girl in the whole wide world. In all the wide worlds.
“Yes, cute.” She Eskimo-kisses Hikaru. “Like a sleepy hedgehog.”
“Well, gee, thanks.”
“Like my sleepy hedgehog,” Lina corrects herself and follows up with a non-Eskimo-kiss.
“Huh, I guess that's okay, then,” Hikaru grumbles, then lays back down, pulling Lina into her arms for spooning. As always, Hikaru's hand gravitates equally toward breast or stomach. After a few seconds, her hand settles on Lina's stomach again. The baby's kicking, but sluggishly. Token-kicking. “Guess I'm not the only sleepy hedgehog. The baby's quiet, tonight.”
“Mm.” Then giggles as Hikaru nibbles on her earlobe. “Chris told me the sex of the baby today.”
Which would explain that smug, secretive, adorable smile Lina'd been wearing all evening.
“You cheat! I thought you wanted to be surprised!”
“I do, milaya, but I cannot wait another two and a half more months. Is completely unacceptable.” Lina's pout is audible. And adorable. Even if Hikaru were angry, she certainly wouldn't be able to stay that way. Not with Lina warm and sleepy in her arms.
“Completely.” Hikaru kisses Lina's shoulder blade. Wonders if she wants to be surprised. If anyone can keep a secret, it's Lina, but. . . . “Well? Don't leave me hanging--are we having a Maksimillian Josef or a Margarete Raisa?”
Lina's hand covers her own and presses it to her stomach firmly. There's another flurry of light kicks in response. “Hikaru, meet Maksim, your son. Maksim, meet Hikaru, your other mother.”
For a long time, all Hikaru can do is lay there, and hold Lina. Hold this baby-her son and simply be in love. Irrevocably, eternally in love with them both.
“My son. Our son,” Hikaru murmurs on Lina's shoulder, closing her eyes. Tears get out, anyway. Pretty stupid of her eyes to shed moisture when she's actually happy. Happier than she's ever been.
“Yes, our son. Our little Maksim, the Hedgehog.” Lina says calmly and yawns. “And already he is a handful. I found another grey hair this morning.”
Hikaru snorts and snickers. That's the second of two things she never, ever does, done within two minutes of each other. “Since the Narada, we've all got grey, even Spock.”
“Hmm.” There was a time just mentioning the Narada would send Lina into a brooding funk for days. Now . . . not so much. Hikaru likes to think it's because she's happier, now; and not alone. She's got a fiancee who loves her, and soon she'll have little Maksim, whom they'll both lavish love on, and--
--and the other penny finally drops. Hikaru is done processing and the sudden understanding is made of a ton of bricks that shoot fireworks and rainbows. “Oh, fuck, we're gonna have a Maksim. A Maksim Josef Andrei Chekov! He's a whole 'nother person that you made and we're gonna raise! ”
“Yes, dorogaia moya, we are.” Lina squeezes Hikaru's hand.
“Goddamn . . . goddamn, but what if--” Hikaru clears her throat. Her voice sounds weak and indistinct for no reason she can figure, and she rubs possessive circles on Lina's stomach. Hopefully it'll soothe Maksim and his mother back to sleep. They both need their rest. “What if he really, really wants tap lessons someday, baby?
“Oh . . . well, then.” Lina chuckles, and murmurs something in Russian that sounds affectionate. “If he really wants them, he will have them. For as long as he wants.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Hikaru hugs Lina and their baby closer, relieved. Because agreeing on afterschool activities, well . . . that's gotta be half Maksim's future squared away, right there-easy, like Sunday morning, right?
She and Lina've got this parenting thing so covered.
End