From head canon to on-screen reality Episode 6 of Season 3. You, guys.My. Goodness.What oddly s

From head canon to on-screen reality Episode 6 of Season 3. You, guys.My. Goodness.What oddly specific joy.One has secretly hoped a scene of this nature to eventually make it onto the show, and the promo images promised it was coming now. So, one went in expecting to finally see on screen the sweet sweet scene of the couple all domestic, chilling on their bed, sharing thoughts; the one one has imagined so many times in various forms, be it in text or in illustrations. Seemingly topped with a kiss, as well -  gorgeous for the unremarkable mundanity of itself, without any story points or grand gestures tied to it.Though the promo image promised kiss was not to be seen, what the domestically set scene itself delivered in substance was such a validating treat one could not feel one bit amiss; something one couldn’t have expected, hoped for, or imagined to come worth.The end scenes of the episode made some major personal head canons true on screen! Namely the fact of Paul immediately recognizing the nature of one talking by oneself as if to a lost loved one, and admitting carrying Hugh similarly with him after Dear Doctor’s death. And, the fact, that both of the men hate the augmentations on Paul’s arms.Seemingly tiny things perhaps, but these have both been some of the most persistent themes in my past writing of these two. And much as I abhor to go back to my past scribbles, I felt compelled to quickly go through whole of the Honey Mushroom series, and collect below all of the narratives focused on Paul talking to Hugh in his mind, and the instances mentioning the shared bother of the spore drive augmentations.Which now suddenly as if offer possible context for the on-screen dialogue:“God, I hated those things.”“I hated them more.”  I realize this is quite individual a glee, specific to curious personal head canon nuggets (and perhaps to those who might’ve enjoyed the nuggets / nursed any similar own ideas), but I am beyond ecstatic for those nuggets to have now made it on screen and/or fit into the canon, complementary to the narrative!How ever coincidental, I think one must thank at least Anne Cofell Saunders, the writer of the episode, for including these specific allusions / plot directions, and in doing so making reality of one’s particular head canons. And, that gratitude must also be extended to anyone else, who might’ve been involved in what ever capacity in the process of bringing these into the show’s in-universe reality.Feels like such an immense affirmation of one’s year(s) spent passionately imagining these unmentioned-in-canon dimensions (regardless how ever fumblingly). Such joy to see these once dearly envisioned behind-the-scenes aspects brought on screen, and into the canon.More small, but notable glees: Paul’s PADD on the nightstand. And the men sleeping on the ‘correct’ sides of the bed, which has also been a theme in exploring the character of Paul.  (And, in fact, Paul scratching the augmentations/residuals, too *heehee*).Okay. Let’s go.Passages of the augmentations being a bother:From my second ever narrative, and the first to mention the augmentations, if not yet for the precise shared discomfort factor. Also the first to feature Paul talking to Hugh after the death:[He shifted on the chair and reached for his forearm. Feeling out the hard plastic augmentation with his fingers. Rubbing it in a circular motion on top of his muscles, letting the gentle pressure push against his bones.They were another reason - the augmentations - why he had felt so bare at the gym dressing rooms. He had only ever really bared them in the engineering for their designed purpose, and with Hugh around in the sickbay or in the confinements of their quarters. He had showed them to few others of course on occasion, but on his own discretion. He wasn’t comfortable letting them ‘hang out’ like he had just done. It too left him feeling exposed.“They keep insisting I go in for a medical examination”, Paul muttered out quietly, while skimming through his calendar, like he was expecting Hugh - his resident consultant on all things medical - to actually answer.]- We Are Undone, But Soldier OnFrom my only ‘alternative future’ story, with the first ever allusion to the shared discomfort with the apparatus. Also the narrative, which solidified the idea of Paul harboring Hugh ‘alive’ in his mind well after the death:[ Paul smiled. He put his hand in his hair again, mussed it around a bit, adjusting it from side to side, observing it closely from the mirror. “And you won’t mind this either?” He asked with a faint look of apprehension on his face, “it’s still getting thinner and thinner each year.”“You know I always loved that”, Hugh spoke to him with most affectionate tone, as Paul could feel fingers play with the little swirl of thinning hair on the back of his head, “it makes you look irresistibly manly.”“Like these”, Hugh continued, as Paul raised his arms in front of himself, displaying the thick, fluffy white hair covering his forearms, “I love falling asleep into this softness.”“Well, you’re in luck then. They sure aren’t thinning any”, Paul snickered, “I think the hair on my head might be migrating there in fact”. He could hear Hugh chuckle and felt a light encouraging pat on his hips.Paul turned away from the mirror and walked slowly to the small kitchen cabin in the corner of the room. “Always hated shaving any of that off for those spore drive ports, just so you know.” he could hear Hugh’s voice commenting back at him.Paul was replicating his morning drink. “You won’t mind me saying then, how glad I was to get those off eventually”, Paul conversed in his head as he watched the replicator form a cup of tea.“Of course not, Mushroom”, Hugh sounded to respond from the bed, “we’ve been through this many times. You don’t need to feel sorry for getting rid of those.”“Yeah…” Paul muttered as he walked back to the room with a fresh cup of tea in his hands, “it just felt then like I was throwing something of you away”, he thought sitting down on the bed, “I know it’s silly.”“It is. You know I wasn’t too keen on those things ‘hogging’ your arms either”, Hugh let out a little laugh, “and you really haven’t thrown any of me away.”Paul looked sheepishly down to his tea. He knew what was coming.“Don’t you think you should?” Hugh asked with a slight hint of worry in his voice.]- BecalmedA short, based solely on the premise of the discomfort of the augmentations:[ Hugh wakes up to it again. To Paul’s arm wrapping around him. Dang, it used to be one of the best feelings in the mornings to wake in the safety of his Honey Mushroom’s manly arms. Now, there’s often this unforeseen complication. And Hugh has in part himself to blame for it too.“Mushroom”, Hugh tries to carefully arouse the sleeping man’s attention by shaking him a little. He gets no response.“Honey, can you move your arm a bit”, Hugh tries a little louder and attempts to wiggle himself from the man’s grip, but Paul just mumbles something in his sleep and won’t move. The arm wants to hold on to Hugh. Dammit. He loves it, but just not like this.“Paul!” Hugh makes no attempt to discretion anymore, “will you let go of me!”“What!?” Paul wakes up shouting irately at the abrupt wake-up call.“Your damn augmentation is boring into my hip again”, Hugh lets the understandably agitated response get to him and snaps back in equal tone, which is far more harsh than necessary.“Well, who the fuck’s fault is it, it’s there!?” Paul huffs back, fiercely as only provoked Paul would - even when half asleep, like he is right now.“I know, I know. And you’re very welcome, by the way”, Hugh sneers, “just move it”.“Fine!” Paul scoffs and yanks his arm to his own side of the bed, turning his back to Hugh as he does so. Hugh turns back to face his side as well.The doctor then immediately feels regret for having gotten so agitated. He’s upset for the situation - lamenting over losing those comfy arms for the good of this ship -, not mad at the man.How difficult for the man himself it must be to adjust? And Paul hasn’t once complained. Oddly so.Hugh had just let his own less than satisfactory wake-up ruin Mushroom’s morning as well, hadn’t he?“I’m sorry, Paul”, Hugh turns to look at the man over his shoulder,  "I didn’t mean to yell. I’m not upset with you".“I know”, Paul’s sleepy voice sounds faintly somewhere behind the man’s back. He’s not turning back around.Hugh worries his outburst might scare Paul to thinking twice before embracing him again. And he loves his cuddly Paul.“Of course you’re still welcome to snuggle”, Hugh assures Paul, letting the regret sound in his voice.But the man doesn’t hear him, he’s fast asleep again. And Hugh’s bed feels that much emptier without the safety of his man’s arms around him.]- Losing Your ArmsFrom one, which references events referenced on screen, namely the introduction of the (preliminary) augmentations by revealing them installed on Paul’s arms:[ Maybe it had indeed been but a dream after all. Like all of this. Perhaps like all the other times he remembers too. Those instances when they had been somewhere quite surprising - and admittedly quite exciting -, getting distracted by each other from their intended tasks.Like, when at the Medbay, setting up these brand new spore drive ports on his arms, for a brief stolen moment before the evening shift had arrived to relief Hugh.Indeed, occasionally he had been back as they were in the middle of hurriedly moving that task to their quarters to follow up on those distractions. Like they must have done just now, judging from the state in which their clothes lay scattered around the room and by the selection of tools haphazardly laid on the coffee table next to them. Like they ever really had any intention to use those once here on this couch.Paul regards the augmentations on his forearms.He’s getting a lot of extra orientation practice to the devices through these repeats however, Paul muses. Would Hugh notice anything? Will Mushroom have hard time explaining to the doctor after all of this, how he’s so well adjusted to these things so soon after installation?He realizes this right now as he catches himself cursing them, positioning his arms so that the ports wouldn’t chafe against their bare skins. Is it too late to rethink these apparatus?]- Come AgainFrom one, where Paul regards the augmentations at Hugh’s wake:[ Paul remembers wrapping his arms around that waist each and every night.He shifts his arms. The spore drive ports on his forearms, beneath the layers of sleeves, suddenly feel so alien again right then.It’s not his first time in civilian clothing with them (thanks to his insistence on own comfort wear out of the uniform), but it is the first time with them off duty, since he’s off the ship. And they feel grossly out of place in these Earthly settings.Hugh too had come to dislike them - his own invention - as soon as it had become apparent how they were an obstruction between their embraces.Paul should get them removed, if they’ll no longer serve a purpose.He takes his hands out of the pockets, folds his arms over his chest and goes back to staring across the room with what must appear quite a stern look.]- Honoring One’s HeartThere was also one about the conceiving of the idea of the augmentations, where, however, the bother factor was not yet in sight:Doctor, Not an EngineerAnd this one, which doesn’t technically count for similar ‘shared bother’ reasons either, perhaps, but is a whole narrative very much build around the inconvenience of the augmentations:Performance IssuesPlus, couple saucy ones, which I won’t list here, lest I actually ever want to share this post *ha* More below: While at it, (and, perhaps more importantly) here are the narratives build around the idea fact (!!) of Paul living with Hugh ‘alive’ in his mind after the death - in narrative order (some already featured above, too). Hardly captured by a single quote, but for a taste:[ He had finally heard it. The voice. Hugh’s voice trying to calm him down, “Paul. You need to let yourself be upset. You need to let the tears come.” ]- We Are Undone, But Soldier On[ ‘Honey? Are you drunk?’A delightful, relieved curiosity filled Paul’s mind momentarily as he peered into the darkness of the room wide-eyed, to see where the gentle, familiar voice calling him out was coming from.Then he remembered, and with a loud, derisive scoff sank back into his darkened state of mind, slumping back down on the couch.“So fucking what!? If I am.” ]- A Better Man[ None of this should matter. Not the suit, not the event, not the crowd. Paul is not here, and Hugh is not gone. Not yet anyway. They are still very much together, and just about to leave somewhere off by themselves, once done with this circus. To enjoy each others’ company somewhere away from all of this dreary pretend. Such a presentation, and for whose sake?“You don’t mind, if I’m not honoring you in accordance to the Fleet standards, do you?”He still gets no response. Hugh hasn’t talked to him since Paul disembarked that cursed ship. He’s still here though, isn’t he? Paul would surely feel it, if the man left.]- Honoring One’s Heart[ “Yes. We are too damn young to be thinking about retiring yet.” Paul said and turned to look by his side instinctively, only to see there was really no-one there, of course.He let out a little huff and smiled to himself. Then turned back to face the beach in front of him, and paused to think again.“It will surely be painful to be near it all on the Discovery”, his mind went on, “but I’m not quite ready yet to let go of what we had there either”.“Our only home together?” Hugh came back beside him.“Our first home together”, Paul specified, “so far…"]- First Home[  “Dear, I’m home”. He can just imagine himself standing there at the door of their cabin, staring into the empty, cold room that used to be. All the pleasant memories now tainted. How exactly will this be helping him to get over?“But please, do remind me again”, Paul whispers to himself, and hears a heavy, sympathetic sigh in reply, as if preparing itself for telling him of all the ways he’s doing the right thing to move on, and how it’s proud of him for not giving up, and how it supports him, and all that fucking sentimental nonsense, it’s had to tell him already, over and over. And which yet Paul needs to hear. To keep faith. To not forget. ]- Watching Over You[  “Hmh”, Paul shrugs, taking in the thought, suddenly a slight twinkle in his eyes, “…but I have too much ‘unbridled passion’ you say?” he then yields, disregarding his persistent gravity, as he apprehensively turns his playful smirk at Hugh, readying himself for this blessed dream to end short.But the man stays here. Startlingly, staring right back at Paul’s surprised gaze with almost haunting clarity. Paul’s grip on the newly corporeal man tightens in a moment of incredulity.For the first time in weeks - but which feels like a year - Paul is able to see the man, to look into those loving eyes again, bathe in that radiant smile, and respond to all of the emotions he now thirstily reads from the man’s beautiful face. And fuck, if there aren’t tears on Paul’s own.The man really is right here.]- Passion of a Vulcan Like Mind[ He could feel Hugh’s gaze on himself. “You realize, you actually wanted me gone today?”, he heard Hugh speak out gently, “I got in your way”.Paul’s smile turned to an anguished frown. The tone of understanding in Hugh’s voice hurt him. “Never”, he attested firmly. He lay there as still as possible, staring at the ceiling, afraid to move too much, or turn to glance at his side, lest it chased away this sensation of Hugh beside him.“You are being stubborn again, Mushroom”, Hugh whispered with a hint of worry in his voice, “why do you still cling on so desperately?”. He was so close Paul could almost feel the breath on him - or was that the sea breeze perhaps - “You said you’d be okay, if I left - why won’t you let me then?”]- Becalmed (alt) -- source link

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