Fic: "Grand Pas de Deux," Sulu/Chekov, Star Trek XI (Part 2/3)

[mercaque]

Part 1

Of course Hikaru is going to go see Mr. Chekov - no, Pavel - at his coffee shop. His better sense tells him he shouldn’t, but somehow, his better sense wilts every time he reads over Pavel’s blocky scribble. Not four days after he’s received the slip of paper, Hikaru’s already pulled it out of his wallet and re-read it so many times his thumb has worn a spot along its edge.

But whatever this feeling is, this thrilling kind of lurch in his chest whenever he looks at the note, Hikaru determinedly will not allow it to dictate how he handles this. He’s not even sure what this is, which is all the more reason not to rush into it.

For starters, he’s not going to dress up, although he’s certainly going to wear something a little nicer than his usual khaki-and-oxford ensemble. Hikaru settles on pressed trousers and a sweater, both black, which make him seem sleek (rather than just skinny, he hopes), with a smart pop of gold from the collared shirt underneath. And he pays some attention to where his hair is parted, maybe spends a few extra seconds brushing it just to make sure it isn’t a mess, but it still looks casual, not like he’s actually tried to style it.

“Gee, Hikaru, you have a fashion shoot today or something?” is the first thing out of Janice Rand’s mouth as she bustles down the front walk to her car that Monday morning, while he’s getting Demora buckled up to go to school.

Hikaru blanches. “Or... something,” he calls back.

“Ohhhhh,” she answers, and dammit, he can see her smirking even from fifteen feet away. “Well, you look very sharp. I’m sure ‘or something’ will appreciate the effort.”

If this is supposed to boost Hikaru’s confidence, it doesn’t work. Or at least, it’s stopped working by midday, when he arrives at The Jumping Bean.

The coffee shop’s dark wood paneling, thick-cushioned furniture and smoky lights would be cozy under normal circumstances. But Hikaru can’t stop jiggling his keys between his fingers, and he suspects he hasn’t had this precise mixture of hope and terror on his face since his eighth-grade dance. And even though he’s got a long break between classes today, giving him plenty of time before he needs to be back at work, he vaguely feels like he’s playing hooky. Or committing some other illicit act. After all, seeing Pavel is a really bad idea. Seeing Pavel is a terrible idea. Seeing Pavel is only going to encourage them to see each other again, which has a strong likelihood of ending in disaster-

- seeing Pavel, actually behind the counter and in the flesh, freezes Hikaru to the spot.

It’s impossible not to pick him out, even in his coffee shop uniform. Pavel’s forearms flex like when he’s stacking up mats after class; his black apron’s tied tight around a slender waist; and a few stray curls peek out of his white knit cap. His gait, as he moves back and forth between the cash register and the coffee preparation area, is as smooth and muscular as when he’s barefoot in the studio.

And then the white cap lifts, and Pavel’s gaze skips around the room. Still lurking at the door, Hikaru’s not prepared for when it lands on him. He’s really not prepared for when Pavel’s flat, can-I-help-you-sir expression bursts into a startled grin.

Well, Hikaru thinks. Ready or not, he’d be a supreme jerk to walk out now. He shoves his still-fidgeting hands into his pockets and approaches the counter.

“Hikaru,” Pavel greets him. There’s a bit of pink touching his cheeks, and his eyes flick along Hikaru’s clothes; whether he shares Janice’s assessment of his appearance or thinks Hikaru just looks like a fool is impossible to tell. “I was not certain you would actually come.”

“Well I- you know, thought I would,” Hikaru gets out. God, would his heart just calm down and stop slamming like that - “Ah, what do you recommend?”

“I recommend that you do not order,” he answers.

“Oh?” Hikaru’s eyebrow goes up. “That’s an interesting sales strategy.”

“But I am not selling anything to you today.” Pavel puffs up his shoulders, an impish sort of bravado. “I told you to come for a free cup, yes? I wish to make something for you, that I think you will like.”

“You-” Hikaru blinks. “Really?”

“Unless there is something you really wanted to have,” Pavel says, growing worried. “Or if you are allergic to some ingredients, I should have asked-”

“No, no allergies,” he says. “Well, besides cats. But I’m guessing that won’t screw up your recipe.”

“Oh. Actually, it ruins everything,” Pavel says in mock-dismay.

Hikaru laughs. “Whatever it is, I - I’d love to try it.”

“Good,” he says, turning to hurry back to the preparation counter. “Then wait here. It will not take long.”

Lest he make Pavel overly self-conscious or ruin the surprise, Hikaru tries to turn his attention away. He glances around the rest of the shop, trying to interest himself in the desserts on display behind the glass part of the counter, the amateur pastel-blotched paintings on the wall, the customers at other tables. But after a few moments he can’t help turning back, letting his gaze dart to where Pavel’s at work. At best he manages not to stare too openly at Pavel’s fingers splayed along the coffee cup, the purse of his lips in concentration, the square ripple of his shoulders as he lifts a milk gallon out of the refrigerator.

“...to order, sir?” comes a female voice, sharp but friendly. Her apron stretches tight over voluptuous curves, her red hair pulled back in a curly knot. Her nametag, written in apple-green and dotted with a heart, reads GAILA. “Excuse me. Sir? Have you been helped?”

“Oh,” Hikaru says, blinking himself out of his stare. “Oh, yes, I’m fine. Pav- uh, he’s taking care of it.”

He’s clearly not as smooth as he imagines himself, because Gaila’s eyes widen right before she whips her head around. “Oh! Pavel!” she calls out. “Is this your special order?”

She turns the words special order into a naughty singsong, and Hikaru’s eyes flutter closed.

Pavel looks up with an indignant glare. “Do not - embarrass him!” he scolds. “You will give the other customers a bad idea about this place!”

“You mean all zero customers standing in line behind him?” Gaila titters, leaning in toward Hikaru. “You had better like this thing he’s making for you. Pavel made me taste every variation on the recipe, and by the way, he’s not using decaf. I don’t think I slept all weekend.”

“Oh,” Hikaru says, scratching the back of his head. “Oh, wow.”

“So…” Gaila says, appraising him. “What exactly is it that you do?”

“I teach,” he says.

“Really?” She frowns. “You look a little young for that.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Hikaru answers with a dry grin. “My colleagues still mistake me for a student sometimes. I’ve been kicked out of the teacher’s lounge.”

Gaila laughs. “So you teach older kids, then?”

“Community college, in fact.”

“Really,” she says. “What subject?”

“Intro biology.”

“Ooh. Smart and respectable-looking. I guess that’s a good start.” Gaila lifts a mischievous eyebrow. “So what made you drop by to see Pavel?”

“Ah...” Flustered, Hikaru scratches at the back of his neck. “Well, nothing, really...”

“What are you saying?” Pavel interrupts, having appeared with a full coffee cup cradled in his hands. He narrows his eyes at Gaila. “I told you not to bother him.”

“I’m not bothering him! We’re having a conversation.” Gaila throws a pointed look back toward a clock on the wall. “Say, Pavel, aren’t you about due for a break? I think I can handle the counter.”

And Gaila retreats, but not before whispering something in Pavel’s ear that makes him go wide-eyed and blush all the way to the tips of his ears.

“I am sorry if she was too personal with you,” he mutters, lifting the cup. “This is yours.”

“It's fine,” Hikaru reassures him. His fingers go around the cup slowly, brushing Pavel’s. “Thank you.”

“It is nothing. And, as my colleague so subtly indicated,” Pavel says with a wry roll of his eyes, “I do have a break. If you would like to come?”

Of course Hikaru agrees, following Pavel to a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. Pavel lets him in, then slips through himself. Hikaru tries to keep his drink from splashing as they creak their way up a dimly-lit, old staircase. After three flights, Pavel pushes open a door that lets them out onto the roof.

The sudden sunshine makes Hikaru squint and blink, while the wind instantly skews his carefully-brushed hair. Pavel’s got to slap a hand to his cap to keep it from flying away, his loose uniform floating around him. The roof is high enough to cushion the noise of traffic below, high enough to let them look across all the rooftops warmed under the clear April sky.

“Come on,” Pavel says, and beckons him to a bench tucked against the raised wall of the stairwell entrance.

Hikaru follows, trying to shield his coffee cup from the wind, and they settle beside each other carefully: not too close, they’re not there yet, if they ever will be, but close enough that he registers the spot where Pavel’s shirt is buttoned at his pale neck, hears the shy lick of his lips. Easy now, Hikaru. He realizes that Pavel’s eyes haven’t left him either, and therefore Pavel must have totally noticed him staring, and just say something, because this is getting awkward-

“This is a nice spot,” Hikaru finally says, glancing up at the sky.

Pavel snorts. “This is where the employees come to smoke. I was going to apologize for not having a better place to take you. The wind will not be too much?”

“No, it feels good.” Hikaru lifts the cup. “Besides, I have this, right?”

He takes a sip, carefully because it’s hot and threatening to brim over, wincing at the almost-scald when it hits his tongue. But the drink is delicious, a quiet, woodlike sweetness buttressing the bite of the coffee, the foamed cream rich and substantial. It’s not like Hikaru’s never had flavored coffee before, but this is legitimately good, and Pavel’s watching him with such poorly concealed anxiety that Hikaru fully believes Gaila’s report that he’d spent time working on this.

“This is great,” Hikaru says, closing his eyes and taking a longer drink. “This is perfect. What’s in it?”

“It is a combination of roasts. And some coconut flavor.”

“Is this on the menu? It should be.” Hikaru doesn’t add that it’s got a mountain of foam, or that he’s mildly embarrassed to have to lick a spot of it from his lip. “This is a really nice treat. Thank you.”

“It is not a treat,” Pavel says, so quietly it’s almost lost on the wind. “It is an apology, although a very poor one, I know.”

“An apology?” Hikaru leans closer, curious. “But you don’t owe me one.”

“Yes, I do,” Pavel insists. “When I think of the things I said to you, I... I feel sick. Especially what I said about your wife.”

Hikaru shrugs. “You didn’t know,” he says. “And you’ve more than made up for it already. Besides, I haven’t exactly been on my most grown-up behavior lately.”

“But you did not-” Pavel shakes his head in frustration. “I still feel terrible. The loss of a mother is incalculable. I should have seen-”

“Pavel,” he interrupts gently. “It’s okay. Consider the apology accepted. And I hope you’ll accept mine for not handling things better myself. Besides, I know that whatever you said to me, you were trying to look out for Demora.”

“Even though I did not need to!”

“But that was your intention,” Hikaru presses, and waits for Pavel to nod. “Then forget it. If you were trying to stand up for my daughter’s well-being, I’m pretty sure I can get over it.”

“Okay.” Pavel sinks with what seems like relief. “You know, I have wanted to apologize to you much sooner. For weeks. But I -” He’s twisting his fingers together, staring at them, and Hikaru realizes he’s not the only one with a case of nerves. “I did not know what I could tell you. You had never seemed like this kind of ambitious parent, and then when Demora mentioned that you had told her to ask me questions, it seemed like you were after all. Perhaps I got so angry because I thought you had fooled me? But I still could not explain how I misjudged you so badly. Or why I was so - so certain.”

My father used the same trick, you know. Hikaru grimaces, lowering his coffee cup to cradle it in his lap. “Maybe...” he says. “Maybe stage parents strike a nerve?”

“Yes.” Pavel’s eyes flick along the ground, like he’s gearing up to say more, but can’t bring it out of himself.

“You had mentioned your own parents,” Hikaru prompts, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“No. Not my parents.” Pavel’s eyes flash: distant, murderous. “My father. My mother was nothing like him.”

“Oh,” Hikaru answers. “I’m - I’m sorry.”

“She is the one who really taught me to dance, you know,” he says. “She made me love it. But he… he is the one who decided I should be a star. So, yes. Perhaps I have too much sensitivity when I encounter these parents who treat their children like - like little machines.”

“Little machines,” he repeats, chilled. “Jesus. What did he do?”

“That no longer matters.” Proud and cool, Pavel lifts his chin. “My father and I do not speak anymore. He is in Moscow, along with my brother. They have established a successful business, and I am happy for them.”

“Oh,” Hikaru answers. This tells him nothing and everything. “His loss.”

This gets a quick smile from Pavel. “He would not see it that way, but thank you.”

“I don’t understand a parent who couldn’t see it that way,” Hikaru says.

Pavel gives him the strangest look: almost tender. “Then Demora is quite fortunate to have you.”

Hikaru reddens, shrugs it off. “So you - are you telling me your whole family’s in Russia?”

“No,” Pavel answers. “No, I have two aunts here. Well, not here. They are in Brooklyn, New York.”

“Brooklyn’s... not close,” Hikaru observes.

“But a little closer than Moscow, yes?” Pavel says. “And they like to visit me. Quite often, in fact.” He smiles with distant affection. “My mother was the youngest of the three - their baby sister. They take care of me the same way. My aunts always tell me that I favor her more than my father, which as a young boy of course I always hated to hear. But I am glad for it now.”

“Good,” Hikaru says, and it hangs in the pained silence that follows. Circling around the topic of Pavel’s mother makes him badly curious, but he won’t risk saying the wrong thing.

“I must say that I am very impressed by Demora, and by you,” Pavel says. “To endure what you have for so many years.”

Hikaru shifts in his seat, giving a grim shrug. “We don’t really have a choice in the matter, do we?”

“But that is to be admired even more. To handle something you could not possibly have expected,” Pavel says. “I do not say this to flatter you, but I did not guess at the situation until you told me. Demora has a lot of spirit.”

“Yeah.” Despite the morose turn of conversation, some silliness comes to Hikaru’s face. “She does. I’d like to take credit for that, but sometimes I don’t know where she gets it.”

“You should take credit,” Pavel says. “You know that I was in a very similar position to her once. I know how greatly I looked to my father, at the time.”

Hikaru grimaces. “You mentioned your mother,” he says. “But I - I didn’t want to ask, if it’s too personal.”

Pavel pulls toward him, soft. “But you understand this kind of situation, don’t you? Your interest is different,” he says. “And you have endured it for much longer than my own family did. My mother’s illness, it - it went extremely fast. They did not find the cancer until it was at a late stage. I was eight years old, and I remember that because they told us she was sick not long after my birthday. But she was gone by the time of my brother’s - five months.”

Hikaru sucks in a breath. “Christ. I’m - I’m so sorry, Pavel.”

Pavel moves his shoulders, a not-quite-shrug, and his mouth catches in the strangest knot of a smile. “It is because of her that I could never truly hate the ballet. Not even at the most difficult and stressful moments, and no matter how my father could get.”

“Sounds like she gave you an incredible gift,” Hikaru murmurs.

Pavel appears taken by surprise. But after a moment he nods in delight. “Yes.”

They fall quiet, Hikaru sipping at his coffee as he absorbs this. His daydreams are being knocked aside one by one, and a new portrait of the ballet teacher is taking shape in his mind. Less fanciful; more raw, more rich. It unnerves him to think that Pavel is from a family just as broken as the one he’d attempted to create with Nami. But he shudders to think of alienating Demora the way Pavel’s father has alienated him. And he can’t help a swell of envy: Pavel’s eight years with his mother may have been cruelly short, but it was still almost eight years longer than Demora would ever have with hers. The beginning stages of Nami’s memory loss had set in before their daughter was even a year old, early enough that they both had laughingly dismissed it as a new mother’s exhaustion. Little had they known.

“You have-” Pavel says, pointing to his mouth.

Hikaru jerks a hand up to his face, flustered to realize he’s gotten foam on his lip again. “Oh! Sorry.”

“Yes, you owe me a very serious apology for this.” Pavel’s eyes, bright with amusement, fix on where Hikaru’s swiping it away. After a moment he straightens, as if having fully shaken off the glumness of talking about his mother, and announces: “I have been doing some research. Ballet is, in fact, originally derived from fencing. Which you are very skilled at, yes? So you and I have very much the same background. Of course, we Russians perfected the form of ballet, so there will necessarily be some differences.”

Hikaru can’t help laughing, can’t help fading into a crooked grin. “Maybe so,” he says, “but I’m pretty sure your skills are more current than mine. It’s been five years since I entered any competitions.”

“And it has been almost as many years since I danced in any productions,” Pavel counters, coy. “I suspect you are not as out of practice as you say you are.”

“If I showed you my footwork, you’d disagree,” he chuckles. “At the very least, I’m certain you still look much better in that black ballet outfit than I would.”

No sooner have the words left his mouth than Hikaru’s face stills, and his eyes flutter closed, as he realizes what he’s just blurted out. Wow. Subtle, Hikaru.

But when he risks a look over, he finds Pavel barely holding down a laugh, his eyes twinkling. “The unitard? Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps you should wear one and let me evaluate for myself,” he answers, a tease coiling his voice. “I have been wondering about you, you know. For a married father, the way that you would look at me sometimes, I thought I was imagining…”

“Yeah, um. You weren’t.” Hikaru swallows, staring down into his coffee, and sort of can’t believe he’s just admitted it out loud. “I guess I could’ve hidden it a little better.”

“Oh?” Pavel curls toward him, and his lips part, and Hikaru draws an anticipatory, faintly terrified breath. “This is a bad thing that needs to be hidden?”

“No, no,” Hikaru answers, still a little distracted by the rim of Pavel’s bottom lip. “Just, well - I still can’t believe I’m even considering it.”

“With a man?”

“With anyone.” Hikaru’s laughter stills, and he sits back with stiffening shoulders. “I’m still, ah - married, I guess.”

“Hmmm. Marital status does not seem like a thing people usually ‘guess’ about.” Chekov retreats, folding himself up on the bench, arms propped easily on his knees. With his feet flexing up and down, it’s a pose that would look like he’s showing off his easy athleticism if not for his philosophical expression. “You care very much for your wife, yes? It is clear when you speak of her.”

“Yeah.” Hikaru looks down at his hands. “Some part of me feels like a disloyal asshole for even considering anything with you, even though-” He licks his lips, nervous. “Even though I want to... um, see what happens. And if our positions were reversed, I think I would want her to do the same.”

“You only think?” Pavel asks.

Hikaru sighs, his shoulders falling. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Even now, with the disease being so advanced, there’s a lot of Nami’s personality left. It still feels like she could… just snap out of it any day, if she wanted to. Of course I know - I know that can’t happen. I know how the disease works, what it’s done to her brain. I’ve seen her MRIs, and her biopsy results, and I’ve had every doctor in the state look at her. But it’s one thing to understand a disease scientifically. It’s another to actually watch someone deteriorate. Nami… she, um.” He sucks at his own bottom lip. “She doesn’t know me anymore.”

Pavel takes in a breath, sitting forward. “You mean...?”

“I mean I was visiting her, just before school started last year,” Hikaru says, “and while we were talking, I realized she had no idea who I was.”

“Oh,” Pavel says, a little pale. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And -“ Pavel says. “It must be for Demora as well.”

Hikaru’s mouth pulls tight. “Demora-you know how fast children grow. Nami stopped recognizing her before me. I haven’t let Demora visit in a long time. I think it would just upset her. Both of them, actually.” He shrugs, helpless. “I don’t know if that’s the right decision, though.”

“Maybe there is no good decision,” Pavel murmurs. “But many men would not be trying as hard as you are, I think. Many would have just… divorced.”

“I can’t,” Hikaru says. “I mean, I could. But she’d lose my medical coverage. To put her out on the street in her condition - that will never happen.”

Pavel tilts his head. “Hmm, yes. Spoken like a true disloyal asshole.”

Hikaru sags. “You have to understand,” he says. “Sometimes I think about how my grandparents took care of each other for a long time. Right up until my grandfather passed away. And then after that happened, my grandmother came to live with us, and my parents took care of her. Letting strangers do it in a hospital was unthinkable. And here I am, at a much younger age...”

“But in these cases, I assume there were no small children,” Pavel says. “You have your daughter to think of.”

“Yes,” Hikaru says. “Yes, you’re absolutely right. That was a deciding factor. Nami would forget what she was supposed to be doing with Demora sometimes. There were some close calls.” He runs a hand over his face. “Even so, I still feel like - like I’m getting off easy, somehow.”

Pavel chokes on a laugh. “I would hate to see what you consider a difficulty!”

“Yeah, but I can’t-” Hikaru shakes his head. “Do you mind if we talk about something else now?”

“Of course I do not mind.” Pavel sits back, with a faintly serene smile. “Why don’t you ask me something? Since you have just told me a great deal about yourself, it is only fair.”

Hikaru frowns. “Well, like what?”

“I don’t know,” Pavel says. “Anything.”

“Anything? Are you sure?”

“Oh,” he says, “what kind of terrible question do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know how terrible it is,” Hikaru answers. He glances along where Pavel’s still got his legs curled against his chest, his question brewing. “But - well, I know why I don’t really fence anymore, because there’s no time. I’m curious why you stopped dancing. Professionally, I mean.”

Pavel’s smile freezes in place for a moment, his shoulders drawing up. For a moment, he appears unable to answer the question, his eyes going back and forth. Hikaru’s getting ready to say nevermind when Pavel speaks.

“I broke my leg.” Absently, he rubs up and down his right thigh. “The femur. It broke badly, in several places. I have pins there now, and it has healed, but it will never be the same.”

Hikaru blinks. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, wow. I don’t know if it’s okay to say this, but I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“It is okay,” Pavel answers. “I had a great deal of rehabilitation. And I was lucky, if you can say that, to have it happen at that age, because it did heal very fast. For normal activities, I barely notice it. But the injury ended my career in ballet. Even now, I can feel it when I do certain positions, and especially when I try to leap.”

“My God,” Hikaru says. “How did you break it? Dancing?”

Pavel flies into a wild laugh. “Oh no, no, no,” he says. “No, it was a car accident. Although, perhaps you can say it was indirectly because of dancing, since dancing is the reason I was in New York, where it happened.”

“I can’t imagine what that was like,” Hikaru says. “To have that happen at that time in your career. It must have been - crushing.”

“That would be true, if my career itself were not already crushing.” Pavel hmphs, a dark and grim noise. “My father had arranged audition after audition for me. His goal was to make all the ballet directors in the city fight over his brilliant son. Of course, that required me to perform brilliantly at every audition.”

“And if you didn’t?” Hikaru breathes.

“Then... he punished me. For even the smallest error.” Pavel’s lips push together, a weak shrug lifting his shoulders. “He did not have very good control over his temper.”

“Did he-” Hikaru darkens, his own temper brewing, but he keeps his tone even. “Was it physical?”

It takes a minute before Pavel produces a flat: “Yes.”

“Fucking-” Hikaru throws himself back, with an aggravated exhale. “Fucking bastard.”

“Yes, but. I was not shy to rebel,” Pavel says. “We were living in an apartment building - just my father and I, since my brother had been left behind in Moscow. In this building, two floors down, there was a boy. He was an art student, but kind of a rough type, you know? He was older, and he had dark hair, like you. But otherwise, he was very much unlike you. He liked very wild parties, and my father hated this, so of course, I loved sneaking away with this art student to his wild parties.” He gives a tight little shrug. “The accident happened when this boy was driving me home one night. Another driver crashed into my side of the car. We were both on so many drugs that I did not even realize what had happened to my leg until I woke up in the hospital.” Pavel looks up sharply. “I wish you to know that I do not do such stupid things anymore. And that I was reckless, but never - sexually reckless.”

Startled, Hikaru throws up his hands. “Okay.”

“Anyway - as I said, there was rehabilitation,” Pavel continues. “My father was wealthy enough to pay for the best. But even so, it became very clear that I would never return to what I was. That is when he, how do you say, washed his hands.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean he settled all of my legal and medical expenses, which I must admit cost him a lot of money. In return, he asked me not to trouble him anymore.”

“Trouble him?” Hikaru splutters. “You’re his child! And you were, what, seventeen?”

“Hikaru.” Pavel slides him a heavy look. “My father and I - our natures have always been opposite. We were at war from the time I was a child, and after my mother was no longer there to intervene, it became much worse. But while I had success, I could tell myself that it was worth being punished for errors, and he could tell himself that I was not...” He swallows, letting a significant glance play across Hikaru’s chest and shoulders. “That I did not have my… preferences.”

“Oh.” Hikaru sinks back. “Oh, Jesus.”

“After the accident, we both stopped pretending.” Pavel shrugs, though he’s not as casual as he feigns. “Which is really better for both of us.”

“Yeah, except for the part where he’s a worthless, homophobic asshole.”

Pavel’s grinning at him. “You are very kind, to be so angry on my behalf,” he says. “But it was not so bad. I stayed with my aunts, the ones that I mentioned. They really shocked me, you know. They understood everything, even about - the boy downstairs. I thought it was impossible that they could know. But they said my mother had guessed, even when I was so small, because of a boy in our neighborhood-” He shakes the faraway look off his face, and grimaces. “He had dark hair too.”

Hikaru smiles at this, but there’s little happiness in it. He lets a tentative hand brush over Pavel’s arm, a reassuring caress up to his shoulder. Pavel’s hand coming up to clasp Hikaru’s firmly in place, and he leans closer.

“What about your family?” Pavel asks. “Do they think you are a conventional married man?”

“Uh, no.” Hikaru can’t help a laugh. “They’d all agree I left conventional behind a long time ago. They know about me. Before I met my wife, I’d introduced them to, uh, boyfriends. My parents do their best, I guess, although sometimes it’s like Groundhog Day, having to explain the whole ‘bi’ thing to them every time I bring home a new person. My sisters are great, though.” He shrugs. “Overall, I can’t complain. Your father… I hope I don’t offend you by saying this, but God help me if I’m ever anything like that with Demora.”

“Trust me, there is no offense,” Pavel says. “My father is a businessman. Very successful, you know, one of these New Russians who have discovered the joys of capitalism. To him I am no more than a failed investment.”

“Stop,” Hikaru says immediately. “You can’t-I won’t let you think that.”

“I don’t,” Pavel says, and on seeing that his anxiety hasn’t abated: “Hikaru, really, I don’t. The car accident was the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m free of him now, and his whole world. Please, do not misunderstand. I love the ballet. I love teaching, I love seeing little ones like Demora have the same joy in it. But there is no future for me. No - do not look sad about that. I have been saving money, from this job and from the ballet lessons, and I am ready for something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like, um...” Pavel’s slid back, his mouth drawing up into an anxious set. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Hikaru tilts his head. “Really?”

“It is stupid.”

“After this entire conversation, you really think I’m going to judge you?” he needles.

Pavel breaks into a helpless kind of laugh. “Okay,” he says, but it takes him a few deep, steadying breaths before he can spit out: “Iwanttobeascientist.”

“You what?”

“A scientist,” he repeats. “I like these programs on the public television channel, the documentaries about space. Especially this man, Carl Say-gan. When I was staying with my aunts, I liked to take walks to rehabilitate my leg, and I found the library was a good distance. I liked to find books about physics, and space. Sometimes it could be very frustrating and hard to understand, since my father never liked me to study very much besides dance, but whenever something would become clear to me-” Pavel reddens. “I am sure you would find my little discoveries rather pathetic, but to me, it felt as good as dancing.”

Hikaru can only gawk for a moment. The mental image of Pavel, sitting in his ballet clothes and spellbound by Carl Sagan, is possibly the most endearing thing in the world not involving his daughter.

“I told you it is stupid,” he says. “I know I am not smart enough-“

“Are you kidding? If you can teach yourself physics, that’s pretty much the opposite of stupid,” Hikaru says. “Lacking a formal education and lacking intelligence are not the same thing. Listen. My area of study is a little more, uh, terrestrial, but I might still have some of my textbooks up in the attic. You’re welcome to any of them. They’re a little old, but the basics should be there, right? And if there’s anything I can walk you through, I’ll be happy to do it.”

Pavel lights up. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” Hikaru says. “And at the risk of sounding self-promoting, I can look into community college options, if you want. It may not have the flashiest reputation, but it’s a solid way to get your foot in the door. In fact, there are academic tracks designed especially for students who want to transfer into a four-year universit-mmph!”

Hikaru’s cut off by two sensations: firm fingers gripping his right wrist to keep his coffee from spilling, and Pavel’s mouth pressed against his in a kiss.

It’s all happened in such a fast, fluid motion that Hikaru can do nothing but give in, not that he wants to do anything but open his mouth for Pavel’s soft, insistent tongue. Blindly Hikaru sets his coffee down on the bench. With his hands now free he cups at Pavel’s cheek, wraps a tight arm around his waist, and kisses back fervent and sweet.

After a few moments of trading kisses back and forth, Pavel squirms his way into Hikaru’s lap, straddling and leaning down to give Hikaru’s mouth his full attention. Hikaru’s fingers drift through Pavel’s hair, the other hand knotting in his coffee shop uniform. He marvels at how deceptive it is: the loose cloth belies Pavel’s sturdy back, the solid hips beginning to rock back and forth against his own, the tender vise his legs form around Hikaru’s midsection.

Their lips meet again, again, again, as if no matter how many times Hikaru does this he can’t believe it’s happening. The way Pavel keeps tightening his grip and making those unhappy whimpers every time they withdraw isn’t much motivation to stop either.

“Wh...” Hikaru asks, panting as he attempts to pull back. But Pavel’s mouth is right there, wet and hanging open breathlessly, and he can’t help another soft, suckling kiss. “Not that I’m complaining - um, at all - but what brought that on?”

“You did.” Pavel settles arms around his neck, and he’s looking at Hikaru in red-faced rhapsody. “You are - you are not only so handsome, you are the first man who has taken me seriously.”

“Why... why wouldn’t I…?” Hikaru mumbles. His brain gets a little hung up on you are not only so handsome, on top of the arousal that’s shorting out most of his thought processes.

“Everyone else has told me I should try to learn how to dance again.” Pavel sneers. “That even with my injury, I would still make a better dancer than scientist. Or that I am wasting my gift.”

“Who the hell told you that?” Hikaru growls, seizing him a little harder, plowing his throat with kisses. “They can take some - some organic chem and shove it.”

He can feel Pavel shaking, nearly collapsed against Hikaru’s shoulder with laughter. “What a romantic thing to say.”

Hikaru laughs too, tightening his arms across Pavel’s back. The word romantic, even joking, gives him a giddy sort of shock. “I mean it, you know,” he says. “You... you deserve it, Pavel. If I can help you at all, I want to.”

When Pavel pulls back, his face is unreadable: a bright-eyed jumble that threatens to spill over I love you. Or maybe Hikaru’s just projecting his own pounding excitement, the lighter-than-air happy hysteria that’s bubbling up inside him.

“I just, um...” Hikaru fiddles with Pavel’s cap, which has been knocked askew. With fussy care he tucks Pavel’s curls back underneath it, then plucks at Pavel’s grin with another kiss. “Ballet class is going to be a little strange now, isn’t it?”

Pavel’s smile drops, but he’s still warm. “You are thinking of Demora.”

He shrugs, running nervous fingers along the rim of Pavel’s cap. “I have to,” he says, and then gives a self-conscious laugh. “Wow. I really know how to kill a mood, don’t I?”

“Hikaru. You have not killed anything.” Pavel’s giving him that droll look. “If you did not worry over this, you would not be the kind of person I like.”

“You-?” Hikaru says. “Really?”

“Do you even realize-” Pavel breaks off in exasperation. “She is your child. If you did not give thought to protecting Demora, I - I think I would hate you.”

“Oh.” Hikaru almost mumbles it to himself, staring past Pavel’s shoulder. “Oh, I see.”

“If you wish to keep me a secret forever,” Pavel says, “then I will be a secret forever.”

“No,” he answers, and then catches himself. “Ah, I mean - I’m pretty sure I don’t want to do that.” He’s relieved to see a smile dart across Pavel’s face. “But thank you.”

“However,” Pavel says, draping himself forward, “it is unacceptable not to see you at all.”

“No argument there,” Hikaru answers, at the end of a breathless kiss. “I have another long break on Thursday, if you’re free?”

“There is no one using the dance studio at that time. I have scheduled it for myself, for developing lessons. But if you would like to come visit...?” Pavel, after another light kiss, pulls back and offers a devilish grin. “I will be wearing your favorite outfit.”

Hikaru laughs, red-faced. “It’s not like you have to talk me into-”

A cough interrupts him, one that’s deliberately loud and exaggerated, and coming from the direction of the stairs.

Hikaru tenses, and he can feel Pavel’s muscles give the same startled twitch: there’s hardly an innocent explanation for why they’re wrapped around each other, for why Pavel’s in his lap. Thankfully, when they turn, they only find Gaila standing at the entrance to the stairwell, crossing her arms and looking highly amused.

“Sorry to break it up,” she calls out. “Just thought I’d warn you, Pavel, that Richard’s looking for you. I told him I could cover it, but he’s going to have a fit if you aren’t behind the counter soon.”

Pavel drains into such a look of dread that Hikaru sort of wants to find this Richard guy and kick his ass. But this is followed by Pavel hissing something distinctly un-vulnerable sounding in Russian, before he turns in apology. “This is my manager. I have to go, now. I will see you on Thursday!”

And he pushes one last kiss against Hikaru’s mouth before tumbling off his lap and all but bolting toward the stairs.

Hikaru watches after him. It’s a moment before he regains the presence of mind to pick up his coffee cup and follow. Still caught in the same daze, he drifts toward the stairwell. Inside he finds Gaila has hung back, apparently waiting for him. Together they start down the stairs.

“Is he going to be in trouble?” Hikaru asks.

“Nah. Pavel’s a hard worker, he’ll be fine.” Gaila smirks. “I mean, unless you two want to make a regular habit of going at it on company property.”

“No,” he says, reddening. “That’s, um, not the plan.”

“Good.” There’s a new edge in her voice, and when he glances over, he finds Gaila’s face has cooled into something clinical, skeptical, probing. “I guess you don’t seem like a jerk.”

Hikaru’s eyebrows go up. “…Thanks?”

“And I better be right about that,” Gaila continues, and it’s even more unnerving when she breaks into a smile. “Because I’ll kill you in your sleep if it turns out you’re taking advantage of him.”

“Of Pavel?” His face drops. “I wouldn’t - I’m not like that.”

“Oh yeah? A lot of people would,” Gaila says. “Pavel’s young, and foreign, and getting by on a coffee shop salary. You wouldn’t be the first creep who thinks he’s an easy target.”

“Excuse me?” Hikaru turns an appalled look toward her. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Ooh! You look ready to kill somebody. That’s a good sign,” Gaila says. “Luckily, Pavel can take care of himself. But he’s got it pretty bad for you, and so I just wanted to be sure that - you know, you’re all right.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better...” Hikaru’s shoulders sink. “My daughter’s in his ballet class. She loves him. If I screw this up, I’m pretty sure she’ll get to me before you do.”

Gaila softens. “Oh, yeah. You really do look so young. It’s easy to forget you have a kid.”

“I’m almost thirty, you know,” he complains.

“Ohhhh. Methuselah,” she says. “Listen, I’m sorry I got on your case. It’s just that Pavel - well, I’ve only known him about a year and a half, which is when he started working here. But even in that short amount of time, he’s changed so much. Used to be, he’d be a wreck for days after getting a call from either of those bastards, his father or his brother.”

“I thought he wasn’t speaking to his father,” Hikaru says.

“He isn’t. But getting to that point hasn’t been easy for him. Pavel’s come so far, and if he gets hurt now -” Gaila sighs. “You know he’s been talking about you since that ballet class started, right?”

“What? No,” Hikaru says. “Are you sure? We haven’t exactly been on the best of terms.”

“Oh, God. Tell me about it,” Gaila says with an exasperated laugh. “Or on second thought, don’t. I already know. Boy, Pavel was in rare form when he thought he’d pissed you off forever. ” She shakes her head, mouth creeping up in a suggestive grin. “Obviously you two are on much friendlier terms now though, hm?”

With a hearty chuckle, Gaila pushes open the EMPLOYEES ONLY door and lets them back into the coffee shop proper.

“All right, hon,” she says. “Remember what I said. I hope I’ll be seeing you around some more, okay?”

“Yeah, me too,” Hikaru answers, although he’s mainly addressed her retreating back, since Gaila’s already hurrying back to the cash register. It might seem curt if not for the roaring mob at the counter that obviously demands her attention.

Indeed, Pavel acknowledges Gaila’s return with only a quick mutter over his shoulder, as he’s too busy scrambling to keep up with the midday rush of orders. But he does look up when Hikaru waves goodbye, gives a frazzled grin, and mouths “Thursday!” to Hikaru’s answering, eager nod.

Hikaru practically floats out the door and down the street, feeling lightheaded, feeling like he’s in space. It occurs to him that he’s got no idea if he’s just spent minutes or hours with Pavel on the roof. But he can’t muster more than a dreamy sort of concern as he checks his watch. Upon seeing he’s still got time before he’s due back at work, Hikaru promptly goes back to replaying their date in his mind. It was a date, he realizes, and one of the most sweetly odd and unexpected he’s ever had. Hikaru’s so caught up in it - in Pavel, in everything he’s learned, in the kisses - that it’s a minor miracle he doesn’t hit anybody as he pulls out onto the road.

It would wreck him for days if he got a phone call. Hikaru glares off into traffic, souring at the thought of Pavel’s lost mother, of his violent father. Both he and Pavel have been robbed of things they deserve. But maybe now that they’ve met, it will be all right. Maybe they’re meant, somehow, to make up the balance to each other. Hikaru can imagine it, so easily: sheltering Pavel in his big cavelike bedroom, swaddling them both underneath the fat comforter, stroking Pavel’s curls and swearing to him that he won’t ever have to worry about being hit or punished or abandoned again. And then Pavel would lift a sleep-soft smile, and his arm would wend through the valley of Hikaru’s waist and pull him tight, and a Russian-accented sigh would answer him yes, Hikaru, this is where I belong...

“Oh my fucking God,” Hikaru cries, and almost drives off the road when he realizes exactly what he’s beginning to contemplate.

***

“...So you’re thinking about canceling?” Janice squawks. “You cannot be serious!”

“I can’t go through with this, Janice.” Hikaru throws a furtive glance around the kitchen. Despite the fact that Demora’s holed up in her room with math homework, he leans forward in a desperate hush. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I should never have let it get this far.”

He and Janice have retreated to the kitchen after dinner that Tuesday night, the latest round in their long-running barter system. In exchange for some repairs Hikaru had done on her sink, Janice has brought over beef stew to share with him and Demora. In exchange for dinner, Hikaru’s now rolled up his sleeves and begun to scrub out the empty dishes while she seats herself on the counter and listens to him recount everything about Pavel. So far, Janice has refrained from crowing I KNEW you thought the ballet teacher was cute. Hikaru suspects he might owe her another favor for this.

“Uh huh,” Janice says. “From the way you keep smiling like a total goofball, I can tell you really hate how far things have gone.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it. Or that I don’t - feel things for him.” Hikaru pauses in his scrubbing to cast a plaintive look up at her. “But to actually do this? It’s selfish! It’s stupid!”

“It’s selfish and stupid to do something that makes you happy?”

“When it involves this kind of risk? Yes.” Hikaru shakes his head. “I wasn’t even thinking of Demora. What kind of father am I? Pavel’s her favorite teacher, and here I’m - I’m making out with him in public places, like some teenager.” He shoots a mortal glare at Janice, who’s struggling not to laugh. “It’s not funny! It was totally irresponsible!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says, but blurts out a giggle anyway. “It’s just that you’re so - Hikaru, for the last five or six years, I’ve watched you be nothing but Mr. Responsible. Trying to take care of your wife, trying to be both mother and father to Demora. If you really did go for it with some cute dancer, then I say good for you.”

“He’s not -” Hikaru grimaces down into the sink. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I mean yes, I - of course I’d thought about it. God, have I thought about it. But I wasn’t actually expecting it...”

“And you liked it,” Janice says. “Oh, look at you blush.”

“How can you encourage this?” he bursts out. “You’re a therapist. You should know better than anyone how traumatic it will be for Demora if I have some failed affair with her ballet teacher.”

“Now, just a minute,” she says. “First of all, you don’t know it’s going to fail.”

Hikaru snorts. “The odds aren’t exactly overwhelming in its favor.”

“And second of all,” Janice says, with a pointed look, “if you’re actually interested in my opinion as a therapist, I think it could be good for Demora to have a daddy who’s in a fulfilling, adult relationship. Of course you have to be careful. Of course you have to be sensitive about what she’s ready for. But she’s going to follow the example you set. What are you teaching her if you shut out someone who has the potential to be really, really good for you?”

“Yeah, but do you really think that’s what Pavel is?” Hikaru’s voice has become small. “Do you really think he isn’t going to bail when he realizes exactly what a huge commitment my daughter represents? For God’s sake, I remember how I was at his age. It’s not like I’d blame him.”

“Seems to me like he’s pretty aware of Demora’s existence,” Janice says. “Not to mention that he’s got a class full of six-year-olds, right? It’s not parenting, but he’s got at least some idea of what he’d be getting into. And anyway, that brings me to my third point. Did I understand you correctly? Because it sounded like this Pavel guy told you he’s willing to wait as long as it takes until you’re comfortable introducing him to Demora.”

“Yes, he said that,” Hikaru mutters. “But I think he still expects - I don’t know what he expects, but I can’t keep him on the side forever. That’s just not fair.”

“If you take him at his word, he seems to acknowledge that possibility,” Janice says. “If it ends up not working out, you can’t say Pavel didn’t know what he was signing up for.”

“But even then,” Hikaru says. “Even if I keep Pavel a secret, I’ll still be lying to Demora. I’ll be encouraging him to lie to Demora. Her father and her favorite teacher, going behind her back - if she finds out somehow, it’ll be like we’ve betrayed her. I’m the only parent she has left! How could I even think of doing that?”

“Don’t-” Janice tries to bite down on her exasperation. “Hikaru, stop. You’re starting to tie yourself in knots.”

“I’m being realistic,” he answers.

“No, you’re doomsaying. You’re so focused on anticipating the worst that you’re about to make it a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Hikaru settles his shoulders, casting a frustrated look up at the ceiling.

“Listen. There is no easy way to do this,” Janice says. “There will never be an easy way to do this. Either you take a chance introducing a new parental figure into Demora’s life, or you keep your parental life and your romantic life completely segregated, or you just don’t date at all and live like a monk until your daughter turns 18. But whatever you do, do not beat yourself up for making the best of hard choices.”

Hikaru stares down at the sink for a long moment, running the sponge over and over a plate. “I can’t give Demora her mother back,” he says. “But I can at least avoid doing anything that has even the slightest chance of hurting her.”

“Hikaru.” Janice has turned grave. “Do you really think the best thing you can do for your daughter is to just close yourself down?”

“Yes,” he spits back, with sudden fire. “This thing with Pavel, it can’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Because-” Hikaru says. “Because it can’t.”

Janice falls quiet, watching him scrub. After a moment she deflates with a soft cluck of her tongue. “Oh, Hikaru,” she says. “This isn’t about Demora at all.”

“Of course it is,” he says. “I love her. I would do anything for her.”

“I know,” she says. “But you are also a lot more frightened than I thought.”

Hikaru stiffens, his jaw going sharp and rigid, eyes a hot glare at the saucepot he’s scrubbing.

“Which you’re allowed to be,” she murmurs. “More than allowed, given the circumstances.”

He shakes his head, still not looking at her.

“You know,” Janice prods, “from what you’ve told me, this guy sounds pretty well-equipped to understand your situation. That’s rarer than you think, Hikaru. Don’t take it for granted.”

“It’s not-” He exhales. “Pavel is not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“Oh, what the hell, Janice! What do you want to hear from me?” Hikaru throws down the sponge, which hits the sink bottom with an angry slap. “I can’t go through this again. Okay? Pavel-he’s not-I just can’t. All I care about is seeing Demora grow up, and making sure I don’t screw up her life any worse than it already is. If that makes me a coward or a bad person, then so be it. You know what? I am canceling. Pavel’s young. He’ll get over it soon enough.”

“That’s pretty cold.” Janice gives a low, disapproving whistle. “Could’ve given the poor guy some warning before he poured out his hopes and dreams, you know.”

“God dammit!” Hikaru’s shout fills the tiny kitchen, reverberates off the pots and pans. “Do you even realize what you’re asking me to do?”

Janice pulls back, eyes wide. “I...” she says softly. “No, I don’t think I do.”

He fixes her with a bitter glare. “You’re asking me to somehow explain to Demora why I’ve given up on her mother. You’re asking me to leave Nami to rot in a hospital somewhere while I go have a ‘fulfilling, adult’ relationship with someone new. As if I don’t already feel like vomiting every time I think of what I’ve done to her. Do you think she knew, when she broke off a perfectly good engagement for me, that I’m the kind of husband who would ship her off as soon as things got difficult?”

“Yes!” Janice fires back. “Yes, she probably did know that you would have the strength to make that difficult decision, once it fell to you! My God, it’s not as if you were cackling and twiddling your moustache when you signed the papers to institutionalize her! Just for me, as your neighbor, it was hard enough to watch what that did to you. The physical toll alone - you looked gaunt, Hikaru, and it was obvious from your face that you weren’t sleeping much either. And that’s without getting into the conversations you and I were having around that time, which I remember very well.” She takes a deep breath. “And I’m certain you remember all the things that led up to that point. Like how Nami used to forget if Demora was in the bath. Or if she’d left the stove on, or if she’d fed your daughter that day...”

“Okay, stop,” Hikaru barks. “Don’t - just don’t. You don’t have to remind me how bad it was.”

“Apparently I do, if you’re under the impression that Nami’s hospitalization is somehow your fault,” Janice answers. “You know that isn’t reasonable. That’s your survivor’s guilt talking.”

Hikaru bows his head, presses his palms to his tightly closed eyes. It takes a long moment before the stinging feeling in his throat recedes enough for him to get out: “I still hate myself for doing it.”

“Oh…” Janice lets herself down from the counter, coming to put a gentle hand to his arm. The touch becomes a hug - an awkward one, since she’s easily six inches shorter, and his fingers are still dripping with dish lather - but nevertheless long and tight. “It is not your fault.”

“Yeah,” Hikaru says roughly, as they break off. “Sorry. I’m being an idiot.”

“You are not.” Janice puts hands on her hips. “This is a big deal. You’re right to treat it that way.”

“This thing with Pavel probably isn’t even going to go anywhere.” He laughs, mordant. “I’ll be lucky if it lasts a few weeks. All this, for nothing.”

“It isn’t nothing,” Janice says. “Listen. Seeing you all dressed up yesterday...”

“I wasn’t dressed up.”

She snorts. “Okay. Seeing you all not dressed up yesterday, it really took me by surprise. You looked so excited. So positive. We’ve been neighbors for how long, now? Since before Demora was born? In all that time, I don’t think I’ve seen you look that way since - well, maybe since before Nami’s diagnosis. So I don’t know anything about this Pavel person - hell, I haven’t even met him, although I’m really tempted to visit this coffee shop now and introduce myself-”

“Oh, my God...” Hikaru groans. “Not yet. Please.”

“-but I like the effect he’s had on you already,” Janice says. “And I’m only pushing so hard because it would break my heart to see you sabotage that. Especially if you’re sabotaging it because of something that isn’t your fault to begin with.”

“But it-” he begins, and then sighs heavily. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Just think about it,” Janice says. “That’s all I ask. But I’ll drop it now. And I am sorry for pushing you. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. It’s not my place to tell you that’s wrong.”

“It’s okay.” Hikaru shakes his head, feeling suddenly exhausted. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Oh, Hikaru, please.” Janice chuckles. “I’m not even close to counting on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you get like that.”

She settles next to him at the sink, picking up a towel to help dry the dishes he’s washed. The subject of Pavel falls from the conversation after this: Janice sticking by her decision to drop it, and Hikaru simply out of stamina. What am I supposed to do? he wants to turn to her and plead, and he’s so jumbled up that he thinks he’ll do whatever she says. But more likely Janice would try to talk him through it again, and that would require more discussion of Nami, and Hikaru can feel himself clench inside at the very prospect.

The closest they come to any further mention of Pavel is when Janice wishes Hikaru good luck as she’s getting ready to leave. After she’s gone, Hikaru lingers in the kitchen, puttering and rearranging things in an effort to work off his nervous, useless energy. He’d wanted to talk to Janice in order to get a reality check. Instead, he feels more anchorless and confused than when their conversation had begun.

When Demora wanders into the kitchen half an hour later, she finds her father settled back against the counter. Hikaru’s picked up a dishtowel, and he keeps twisting and untwisting it between his fingers. His eyes are a distant, hollow churn.

Part 3