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As a Starfleet officer, Captain Pike had a reputation to uphold. And he did it very well. Everyone in the fleet knew Pike as exactly the kind of person you wanted in command of the flagship — tough yet fair, strong and confident while not unyielding or cocky, optimistic but not naive. It was an image he’d cultivated carefully over years, from the time he was a cadet all the way to the present, and it served him well most of the time.
But there were times when the persona of Captain Pike contradicted the person of Chris Pike, and none were more apparent to Phil than in the way he interacted with people. Out in public, or in front of people he didn’t know well, Chris had to maintain a polite distance. Handshakes were acceptable, light touches generally allowed in moderation, but hugs and other forms of close contact were permissible only in very special occasions. For a long time, observing Chris only under these conditions, Phil had assumed that he was simply not one for casual touch.
He would find out, once they grew close, that Chris not only tolerant of casual touch but one of the most tactile people Phil had ever known behind closed doors. And it wasn’t a romantic thing. He’d give M’Benga a back rub when his muscles were aching or wrap his arms around Number One when she came back from a rough mission or just give an ensign a friendly pat on the back for a job well done. Even Spock, who most people gave a wide berth, was not exempted from Chris’ affection. If Chris liked you, he showed it.
And then there was the cuddling. So much cuddling. It didn’t matter if it was freezing cold or hotter than the deserts of Vulcan, Chris always wanted to cuddle, preferably as the little spoon. In bed, on the couch, really anywhere two people could at least sort of sit together comfortably, he was going to try to get as much of his body touching another’s as possible. It was one of the things that had at made Phil incredibly insecure early in their relationship — he’d never had a partner before who would just casually snuggle with someone else — but he’d come to accept it as just another quirk of Chris’ (and a cute one at that). It’s not like he could blame him; Chris seemed to need physical touch almost as much as he needed oxygen.
Needless to say, this had added an additional challenge to Chris’ hospitalization. Even when Chris wasn’t in isolation due to his weakened immune system, the furniture at Starfleet Medical just wasn’t designed for cuddling. Phil had done his best to come up with workarounds, including pushing his cot up against Chris’ biobed and “relocating” a couch from one of the waiting rooms, but they just weren’t comfortable or stable enough for more than a few minutes of affection. So most of the time, they just had to make do with holding hands and gentle kisses. It helped, but it just wasn’t the same.
But finally, the torment was over. After several months in the hospital (during which there had been several close calls), Chris’ medical team had finally deemed him stable enough to return home. When Phil had wheeled Chris into their apartment, the look on his face made it worth all the hours Phil had spent cleaning and modifying and stashing medical supplies in every nook and cranny. “I missed this,” Chris said with a sigh.
“It’s good to be back, huh?” Phil asked as he helped Chris settle onto the couch. “Are you hungry? I could order food. Or we could go out, maybe go for a walk on the beach and then—”
“Phil,” Chris interrupted with a tired sigh. “You’re fussing again.”
“Sorry.” Phil clasped his hands together to stop himself from reaching for the tricorder in the side table. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“If you really need something to do, you can come here and keep me warm,” Chris suggested.
Phil frowned. “You’re cold?” he asked. “That can be a neuropathy symptom; I’m going to call your doctor and—”
“Phil,” Chris interrupted again. He patted the seat beside him on the couch with a pointed look on his face. “I’m not having nerve issues. I just need you to sit with me.”
“Oh. Right.” Phil hurried across the living room and sat down. He touched Chris’ knee, then carefully placed his hand on his arm. “Sorry.”
“That’s better. Now, try touching me like I’m not about to break.”
“Sorry,” Phil said again. He tried to wrap his arm around Chris’ shoulder, but his arm wasn’t quite long enough to reach. When he gently tugged Chris closer to him, Chris lost his balance and nearly tumbled off the couch before Phil managed to catch him. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“Don’t panic.” Chris seemed surprisingly unbothered for someone who had almost plummeted face-first into the coffee table. “We’ll figure this out.”
They ended up lying together on the couch, with Phil’s arms wrapped securely around Chris, as they shared a pillow that Phil had retrieved from the bedroom. It wasn’t one of their usual positions, but it was surprisingly comfortable. “This is nice,” Chris muttered. “I missed this.”
“Just don’t get too cozy,” Phil warned. “You’re due for meds soon.” But Chris was already asleep.
Phil knew he should get up. Chris would need to eat and then take his medication in less than an hour, and both of them were old enough that (even without Chris’ injuries) falling asleep on the couch really wasn’t the best of ideas. But it had been a tiring few days getting ready for Chris’ homecoming. And the room was the perfect temperature and it just felt so right to have Chris in his arms that he couldn’t help but close his eyes and breathe in the familiar scent of his husband’s shampoo. Before long, Phil had dozed off.
~
When Chris awoke, it was dark. Too dark. He couldn’t remember where he was supposed to be, but he knew it wasn’t supposed to be this dark. Something was wrong.
Then he tried to move, only to be stopped by a pressure around his arms and waist. He tried to tug a little bit, but it wouldn’t give.
Don’t panic, he told himself, although he could already feel his breathing start to grow shallow as he continued to struggle. Don’t panic, don’t panic.
“Chris.”
Who was that? Nero? But he had already given up the codes. What did he want now?
“Chris!”
The restraints finally started to loosen, and with a final effort, Chris managed to wrench himself free. He tried to launch himself forward, only to be stopped by a pair of hands holding him back. But they weren’t rough like his Romulan captors’. They felt almost…gentle?
“Chris, honey, it’s Phil. You’re safe, please wake up.”
Something clicked in his brain then, and Chris’ eyes flew open. Heart stuttering in his chest, he frentically searched the unfamiliar space. In front of him was Phil.
“Chris,” Phil breathed with relief. “It’s me. You’re safe.”
“Phil,” Chris choked out. “Phil.”
“Yeah, it’s me. You’re safe.”
~
A sudden movement jerked Phil awake. In his grogginess, it took a moment for him to realize where he was — on the couch, with Chris in his arms. Chris, who was currently whimpering and twitching. It only took a second to realize that he was having a nightmare.
“Chris?” Phil whispered, hoping he could wake his husband. “Chris.”
It didn’t work. Chris’ wiggling turned into full-on thrashing and he nearly hit Phil in the face. “Chris!” Phil scrambled off the couch, which wasn’t easy to do without touching Chris or knocking him off the couch. “Chris, you’re having a nightmare.”
Chris continued to struggle. He could barely sit up, but he was still trying to push himself off the couch. Phil held him as gently as he could. “Chris, honey, it’s Phil,” he soothed. “You’re safe, please wake up.”
Finally, mercifully, Chris’ eyes snapped open. He instinctively jerked back, eyes shining with fear as they frantically searched around. But when they landed on Phil’s face, he could see Chris’ posture relax minutely. “Chris,” he uttered. “It’s me. You’re safe.”
“Phil.” His breath was coming in shallow gasps and he was trembling harder than Phil had ever seen before. “Phil.”
“It’s me. You’re safe,” Phil assured him. "You had a nightmare.” He breathed deeply, trying to subtly guide Chris to do the same. “What can I do?”
In response, Chris let himself fall into Phil’s arms.
~
“I thought I was being tied up,” Chris explained later. “Your arms — they felt like restraints.”
If it had been up to Phil, their days of snuggling would have ended right then and there. Chris already had enough triggers to cope with; he didn’t need Phil adding to them. But Chris wanted to keep trying and even Chris’ specialists said that getting back to some form of normalcy would be good for him, so they tried again.
For the most part, it was fine. With Chris’ paralyzed legs, positioning could be awkward. But they made it work with a few carefully-placed pillows and a thick rug on the floor (Phil insisted). Phil let Chris initiate most of the cuddling, and he always made sure to stay awake when his arms were around Chris. If Chris dozed off, Phil let go.
But eventually Chris grew tired of this arrangement. “I want to cuddle in bed again,” he confessed one night. “I miss waking up in your arms.”
“I can hold your hand,” Phil offered.
“That is not cuddling.”
“Okay. What if you spoon me?” Phil suggested.
Chris made a face. “I don't like that. You’re supposed to have your arms around me; that’s how we always sleep.”
Phil frowned. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. What if you have a nightmare again?”
Chris sighed. “Then I’ll have a nightmare,” he said. “It’s not like that’ll be anything new.”
“Chris…”
“Phil, I know you’re scared from what happened last time. But I don’t want you to live in fear of triggering me. I want to try this. Please?”
So Phil got in bed and wrapped his arms around Chris, who almost immediately drifted off. As he lay there, Phil briefly considered extricating himself from the tangle. In the morning, he could simply tell Chris that he’d shifted in his sleep. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. If nothing else, he knew that Chris would immediately catch him. Phil was a terrible liar.
So instead, he found himself lying in bed fully awake as he imagined all the worst-case scenarios. What if Chris got triggered, but worse than last time? What if he fell and hurt himself in his panic? What if it set him back in his recovery? He could send Chris into a spiral of flashbacks or dissociative episodes, maybe even a psychotic break. What if this was what permanently broke him?
“Phil?” Chris murmured.
Phil jumped slightly. He hadn’t realized that Chris had woken up. “Yeah?”
“I can feel you worrying. Go to sleep.”
Phil sighed. “Sorry. I’ll try.”
~
Phil slept restlessly that night, nearly dozing off several times before snapping back to full alertness. Each time, he was sure that he’d find Chris in the throes of a nightmare, but there was nothing but peaceful slumber. Eventually, he drifted off for good.
When Phil gradually came to awareness, he felt something shift between his arms. He forced his eyes to open and then immediately groaned at the morning light.
“Good morning.” Chris had turned over to face Phil and was grinning widely. “How’d you sleep?”
Phil blinked groggily. “What time is it?”
“0630,” Chris replied. “We slept through the whole night. Do you want breakfast?”
Phil grumbled and wrapped his arms around Chris’ waist, pulling him back down to the mattress. “It’s too early,” he groaned. “Go back to sleep.”