four plants hikaru sulu was given and one he gave away
For this prompt @ the kink meme. Basically just 1400 words of pointless, pointless fluff! After No-Win Scenario I kind of needed it, haha.
four plants hikaru sulu was given:
1. "Carpobrotus edulis," his mom tells him, offering him a palm full of fleshy green spears.
"I thought it was called ice plant?" he says, frowning. He picks one of them up and turns it over in his fingers.
"That's the common name, yes," she agrees. "But every plant has two names--the one people call it every day, and its scientific name. Scientific names separate everything into families, and tell you what plants are related to each other. They tell you secrets about plants."
"Really?"
"Mmhmm. This one, for example--the first word, Carpobrotus, is the genus, the bigger family, of this plant. It's made up of the Greek 'karpos,' or 'fruit,' and 'brota,' or 'edible.' Which means that if you know the scientific name, you know that it has edible fruit."
"Whoa," he says, "coool!" He brings the little spear closer to his face, petting its sleek skin. "What does the fruit taste like?"
She smiles and ruffles his hair. "Why don't you find out, baby? It grows from cuttings."
He starts growing Carpobrotus edulis (he mouths the words carefully till he gets it right) in half an empty milk carton at home. He waters it a little every day, and puts it in a place where it can see the sunlight. Sometimes he talks to it, or sings to it, because his mom tells him that that helps it grow--and he just likes to do it, anyway. And grow it does: spiky and green like something from another planet, with the prettiest yellow flowers.
Months later, it finally bears fruit. Which, it turns out, tastes salty.
That's when Hikaru decides that plants are the coolest things ever.
2. Friday night, seven o'clock. Balmy night--the stars are all out--and oh man, he is so going to fuck this up. He is so going to fuck this up. He's not even sure how, yet--but he'll manage it, somehow.
He's waiting outside her doorstep in his rented tux, and his breathing's doing that stupid shaky thing. He's probably sweating, too--which is awesome, 'cause now when she comes outside, his hands will be all clammy and gross, which he's sure goes right up on top of her Things I Like in a Guy list. Yeah. Sex-ay. Not.
He paces to the other edge of the stoop and wishes--for about the fiftieth time--that he could've scraped together enough money for a hoverlimo. But that was seriously not happening on his measly salary. At least Kiyoko's loaning him her car, so they don't have to take Muni or something really embarrassing--
The door opens behind him and he almost swallows his tongue. He whirls around to greet her, and his mouth drops open. She looks--wow. She's wearing a red dress that clings to her curves, and her black hair is gleaming softly in the muted streetlight. There's a nervous smile resting on her pretty lips, and his stomach about drops through his feet.
"You look really beautiful," he says, because he can't think of anything else.
Her smile widens a bit into a shy grin. "Thanks," she says. "You look really good, too. I, um--" she holds out a little plastic box, "I have your boutonniere?"
"Oh! Yeah," he says. He takes the box from her with hands that are only shaking a little, and examines the flower. A red carnation--heat settles in his stomach, and he swallows. Red carnations are for deep affection . . .
"Dianthus caryophyllus, right?" she murmurs.
"Yeah," he breathes out.
And even though she mispronounces caryophyllus? Hikaru's pretty sure he's in love.
3. "Grandma," he says, hushed.
"It's yours," she insists.
"I can't take it! It's over two hundred years old," he says, wanting more than anything to reach out and wrap his arms around the bonsai tree. It's Chamaecyparis obtusa, more commonly known as a hinoki cypress, and it's the most beautiful, elegant thing he's ever seen in his entire life, with its twisting little form and healthy leaves. He's thought so since he was ten.
"Hikaru," she says, smiling ruefully, "you just flew a ship on a mission to save the earth. You can do anything, my darling. Including accept this gift."
"But Grandma," he protests, shaking his head. "I'll be in space! So many things could happen to it--"
"Hikaru," she says, and her voice has the steel he remembers from childhood scoldings. He shuts his mouth and looks down at her, grimacing.
She smiles, eyes creasing at the corners. She reaches out to stroke a hand down his hair. "Hikaru, I can think of no better place for it than in your hands," she says gently. "You have loved it since you saw it, and you will care for it as if it were your child. If something happens to it, it will have lived its fullest life with you, Hikaru. Take it. Cherish it." She pushes it forward into his hands.
He bolts the pot down double--triple--in his quarters, and rigs up a complicated but near-invisible system of wires to keep the dirt in the pot in case of attack. He keeps detailed logs of how much water it's gotten, and frets about the effects any minor changes in the ship's gravity might have upon it. He sings to it every night.
It flourishes.
His heart soars every time he looks at it, knowing that his family's right here with him, however many million light years away he may be from them physically.
4. "No, no, I must insist!" the Ifean cries, flapping his four hands at Hikaru. "She likes you. She has grown attached, and it will sadden her if you leave."
Hikaru grins down at the vine wrapped around his wrist. "Is that right, girl? You wanna come back to the Enterprise with me?" he asks, tickling a purple leaf.
The plant trills beseechingly, and he laughs. "Well, who am I to argue with a lovely lady like yourself?" he croons, smoothing a hand down the furred stem. The Ifean smiles and claps his hands in delight.
When the treaty comes through, it comes with a note:
We are so pleased our new human friends understand the importance of plants and of the earth, two things so central to our culture. We look forward to a long and fruitful partnership with you.
Hikaru tries not to smile too hard when the Captain claps him on the back and says "great job, Sulu," but it's pretty much a losing battle.
and one he gave away:
"Oh! It is a trapping-fly plant," says Pavel. He mimes snapping his fingers closed in the shape of a mouth, and makes a noise against his teeth as he looks up at Sulu, grinning.
"A Venus flytrap," Sulu corrects, grinning back. He drops on the seat beside Pavel and scoots over till their shirts are just brushing. "Dionaea muscipula. It's a monotypic genus, y'know, so it's the only species in the genus. One of a kind, you might say."
"Oh?"
"Mmhmm." He reaches out to tap one of the traps. "See how pale the leaves are on this one? Almost white? That tells you that this particular cultivar is Dionaea muscipula 'Russian Winter.'" He pauses a moment to let that sink in. "A variety," he adds, "which happens to have been originally cultivated by one Hikaru Sulu. Registered with the ICPS just two weeks ago."
"Hikaru," Pavel says, voice hushed soft. His blue eyes are huge with disbelief in his thin face. "This is for me?" he asks, tapping his chest as if to make absolutely sure.
"Yep," says Hikaru. His cheeks hurt from smiling too hard. "Do you know anything about the word Dionaea?" he goes on. Pavel shakes his head mutely, and Sulu leans in closer until their sides are pressed together, warm and solid. "Dionaea comes from Dione--one name for the goddess for love," he explains.
At that, Pavel's face softens into the brightest smile Hikaru's ever seen. He doesn't say a word--doesn't have to. It's all clear in the gleam of his eyes and the way he leans in to give Hikaru a short, deep kiss, lacing their fingers together on the table.
He turns back to the plant, then, and with his other hand, he strokes a finger gently up each leaf, as if greeting it. He says something to the plant in Russian; Hikaru catches "welcome" and "love" and feels something warm blast through him, centered in his heart. He hooks an arm around Pavel's waist and squeezes his hand.
When Pavel looks up again, his eyes are glittering with love and mischief.
"Could you not hawe giwen a common rose, Hikaru?" he teases.
"Nah," says Hikaru, smirking. "Where's the fun in that?" And before Pavel can toss back a smart comment, he leans forward and steals another kiss--which turns into two kisses, which turns into, well.
A few days later, he hears Pavel singing to the plant, and smiles.
four plants hikaru sulu was given:
1. "Carpobrotus edulis," his mom tells him, offering him a palm full of fleshy green spears.
"I thought it was called ice plant?" he says, frowning. He picks one of them up and turns it over in his fingers.
"That's the common name, yes," she agrees. "But every plant has two names--the one people call it every day, and its scientific name. Scientific names separate everything into families, and tell you what plants are related to each other. They tell you secrets about plants."
"Really?"
"Mmhmm. This one, for example--the first word, Carpobrotus, is the genus, the bigger family, of this plant. It's made up of the Greek 'karpos,' or 'fruit,' and 'brota,' or 'edible.' Which means that if you know the scientific name, you know that it has edible fruit."
"Whoa," he says, "coool!" He brings the little spear closer to his face, petting its sleek skin. "What does the fruit taste like?"
She smiles and ruffles his hair. "Why don't you find out, baby? It grows from cuttings."
He starts growing Carpobrotus edulis (he mouths the words carefully till he gets it right) in half an empty milk carton at home. He waters it a little every day, and puts it in a place where it can see the sunlight. Sometimes he talks to it, or sings to it, because his mom tells him that that helps it grow--and he just likes to do it, anyway. And grow it does: spiky and green like something from another planet, with the prettiest yellow flowers.
Months later, it finally bears fruit. Which, it turns out, tastes salty.
That's when Hikaru decides that plants are the coolest things ever.
2. Friday night, seven o'clock. Balmy night--the stars are all out--and oh man, he is so going to fuck this up. He is so going to fuck this up. He's not even sure how, yet--but he'll manage it, somehow.
He's waiting outside her doorstep in his rented tux, and his breathing's doing that stupid shaky thing. He's probably sweating, too--which is awesome, 'cause now when she comes outside, his hands will be all clammy and gross, which he's sure goes right up on top of her Things I Like in a Guy list. Yeah. Sex-ay. Not.
He paces to the other edge of the stoop and wishes--for about the fiftieth time--that he could've scraped together enough money for a hoverlimo. But that was seriously not happening on his measly salary. At least Kiyoko's loaning him her car, so they don't have to take Muni or something really embarrassing--
The door opens behind him and he almost swallows his tongue. He whirls around to greet her, and his mouth drops open. She looks--wow. She's wearing a red dress that clings to her curves, and her black hair is gleaming softly in the muted streetlight. There's a nervous smile resting on her pretty lips, and his stomach about drops through his feet.
"You look really beautiful," he says, because he can't think of anything else.
Her smile widens a bit into a shy grin. "Thanks," she says. "You look really good, too. I, um--" she holds out a little plastic box, "I have your boutonniere?"
"Oh! Yeah," he says. He takes the box from her with hands that are only shaking a little, and examines the flower. A red carnation--heat settles in his stomach, and he swallows. Red carnations are for deep affection . . .
"Dianthus caryophyllus, right?" she murmurs.
"Yeah," he breathes out.
And even though she mispronounces caryophyllus? Hikaru's pretty sure he's in love.
3. "Grandma," he says, hushed.
"It's yours," she insists.
"I can't take it! It's over two hundred years old," he says, wanting more than anything to reach out and wrap his arms around the bonsai tree. It's Chamaecyparis obtusa, more commonly known as a hinoki cypress, and it's the most beautiful, elegant thing he's ever seen in his entire life, with its twisting little form and healthy leaves. He's thought so since he was ten.
"Hikaru," she says, smiling ruefully, "you just flew a ship on a mission to save the earth. You can do anything, my darling. Including accept this gift."
"But Grandma," he protests, shaking his head. "I'll be in space! So many things could happen to it--"
"Hikaru," she says, and her voice has the steel he remembers from childhood scoldings. He shuts his mouth and looks down at her, grimacing.
She smiles, eyes creasing at the corners. She reaches out to stroke a hand down his hair. "Hikaru, I can think of no better place for it than in your hands," she says gently. "You have loved it since you saw it, and you will care for it as if it were your child. If something happens to it, it will have lived its fullest life with you, Hikaru. Take it. Cherish it." She pushes it forward into his hands.
He bolts the pot down double--triple--in his quarters, and rigs up a complicated but near-invisible system of wires to keep the dirt in the pot in case of attack. He keeps detailed logs of how much water it's gotten, and frets about the effects any minor changes in the ship's gravity might have upon it. He sings to it every night.
It flourishes.
His heart soars every time he looks at it, knowing that his family's right here with him, however many million light years away he may be from them physically.
4. "No, no, I must insist!" the Ifean cries, flapping his four hands at Hikaru. "She likes you. She has grown attached, and it will sadden her if you leave."
Hikaru grins down at the vine wrapped around his wrist. "Is that right, girl? You wanna come back to the Enterprise with me?" he asks, tickling a purple leaf.
The plant trills beseechingly, and he laughs. "Well, who am I to argue with a lovely lady like yourself?" he croons, smoothing a hand down the furred stem. The Ifean smiles and claps his hands in delight.
When the treaty comes through, it comes with a note:
We are so pleased our new human friends understand the importance of plants and of the earth, two things so central to our culture. We look forward to a long and fruitful partnership with you.
Hikaru tries not to smile too hard when the Captain claps him on the back and says "great job, Sulu," but it's pretty much a losing battle.
and one he gave away:
"Oh! It is a trapping-fly plant," says Pavel. He mimes snapping his fingers closed in the shape of a mouth, and makes a noise against his teeth as he looks up at Sulu, grinning.
"A Venus flytrap," Sulu corrects, grinning back. He drops on the seat beside Pavel and scoots over till their shirts are just brushing. "Dionaea muscipula. It's a monotypic genus, y'know, so it's the only species in the genus. One of a kind, you might say."
"Oh?"
"Mmhmm." He reaches out to tap one of the traps. "See how pale the leaves are on this one? Almost white? That tells you that this particular cultivar is Dionaea muscipula 'Russian Winter.'" He pauses a moment to let that sink in. "A variety," he adds, "which happens to have been originally cultivated by one Hikaru Sulu. Registered with the ICPS just two weeks ago."
"Hikaru," Pavel says, voice hushed soft. His blue eyes are huge with disbelief in his thin face. "This is for me?" he asks, tapping his chest as if to make absolutely sure.
"Yep," says Hikaru. His cheeks hurt from smiling too hard. "Do you know anything about the word Dionaea?" he goes on. Pavel shakes his head mutely, and Sulu leans in closer until their sides are pressed together, warm and solid. "Dionaea comes from Dione--one name for the goddess for love," he explains.
At that, Pavel's face softens into the brightest smile Hikaru's ever seen. He doesn't say a word--doesn't have to. It's all clear in the gleam of his eyes and the way he leans in to give Hikaru a short, deep kiss, lacing their fingers together on the table.
He turns back to the plant, then, and with his other hand, he strokes a finger gently up each leaf, as if greeting it. He says something to the plant in Russian; Hikaru catches "welcome" and "love" and feels something warm blast through him, centered in his heart. He hooks an arm around Pavel's waist and squeezes his hand.
When Pavel looks up again, his eyes are glittering with love and mischief.
"Could you not hawe giwen a common rose, Hikaru?" he teases.
"Nah," says Hikaru, smirking. "Where's the fun in that?" And before Pavel can toss back a smart comment, he leans forward and steals another kiss--which turns into two kisses, which turns into, well.
A few days later, he hears Pavel singing to the plant, and smiles.