Icon by @ThatSpookyAgent. Call me Tir or Julian. 37. He/They. Queer. Twitter: @tirlaeyn. ao3: tirlaeyn. 18+ Only. Star Trek. The X-Files. Sandman. IwtV. OMFD. Definitionless in this Strict Atmosphere.
Garak finds him in the Replomat nursing a cup of Tarkalean Tea and reading and re-reading the same three sentences of the scientific paper on his padd. “May I join you?”
“Whatever you want, Garak.” Julian doesn’t look up from his device, but his eyebrows furrow.
Garak takes this as an affirmative invitation and seats himself in the other chair at Julian’s table. “I’ve just heard an astounding rumor.”
“Have you.”
“Yes, indeed I have! It was said that the parents of our young doctor were guests, here on the Station! And I would not have paid these rumors much mind—you know how people like to talk in a place like this, but I happened to find myself in the docking bays as today’s last transport was getting ready to depart, and wouldn’t you know that I saw two humans boarding, a male and a female, I believe, with shocking aesthetic similarities to our own chief medical officer! Not quite as dashing, of course, but I suppose that’s only to be expected…”
Bashir looks up at last and peers at Garak for a long moment in silence before responding. “That’s the only rumor you heard today, is it?”
“Well, there may have been one other small matter to which I heard allusions…”
“Right.” Julian averts his gaze once again. “A small matter.”
“Doctor.” The timbre in Garak’s voice changes, the facade with which he normally presents himself giving way to something altogether more sincere. “I do know what it is to be…molded…by one’s parents.”
Julian peels his eyes from his padd and with some deal of difficulty and directs them toward his companion. “Do you.”
“Yes, Doctor, I do.”
“Right.” He glances down at his tea. The intensity in the man’s eyes unnerves Julian, but it does something else too, something altogether more welcome in the rush of unwanted recollections his parents’ sudden visit had brought him, the shame he had spent so long attempting to conceal. Julian allows himself to sit in that other feeling for a moment as finishes his drink, before, finally, he continues. “No doubt this will all make a rather interesting report for your spymasters.”
“Why, I don’t know what you mean!” Garak responds, in faux surprise, returning once again to the character he so frequently embodies. “I’m a simple—”
“A simple tailor?”
“Yes, Doctor, a simple tailor! My father was quite insistent that I become one! I wanted to be a gardener, you see, but he forced me to learn to sew until my fingers ran raw!”
Julian releases a snort. His lips fall into a grin for the first time since this whole debacle began. “Whatever you say, Garak.”
Garashir prompt: discussing a Shakespeare play we don't get to see them talk about in canon. Maybe one of the less popular ones, like Measure for Measure.
I’m pulling the “I’m sick” card for choosing my favorite again: Much Ado About Nothing.
—
“So what do you think?” Julian asked.
Garak picked at his salad, looking remarkably uncomfortable. “I didn’t know Shakespeare wrote things that were so… explicit.”
Julian furrowed his brow at Garak. “Explicit?”
“How else would you characterize Beatrice and Benedick?” Garak said. He popped the last bits of salad into his mouth then patted his mouth with his napkin. “Their whole flirtation was practically obscene.”
“Did - Did we read the same play?” Julian asked, glancing at the PADD he had in front of him.
“I mean, really,” Garak continued as if he hadn’t heard Julian, “arguing in public like that.”
“Oh,” Julian said, suddenly realizing where the cultural mix-up was.
“And then him swearing his loyalty to her over his loyalty to the State!” Garak exclaimed. “Really, doctor, if I’d wanted smut I would have gotten one of Quark’s holosuite programs.”
“It’s not… It’s not smut,” Julian said. “By human standards, they’re…” He screwed up his brow. “Well, actually, they’re arguing for most of the time and that’s not considered sexual at all.”
Something sad flickered through Garak’s eyes, but was quickly replaced with a disdainful look. “Well, I can tell you right now, this book would be banned in most of Cardassia,” Garak said, sliding the PADD with his copy away from himself.
“For lewdness?” Julian asked, now intrigued over everything else.
“That and the blatant disregard for State and rank.” Garak picked up his mug of rokassa juice. “Also, is Don Pedro a complete moron or is he just blinded by pride like your Julius Caesar?”
“He’s –” Unfortunately for Garak, Julian was used to Garak’s attempts to steer the conversation. He shook his head slightly and refocused on what he really wanted to talk about: “Wait, so are you telling me that, to a Cardassian, Beatrice and Benedick fighting is close to erotic literature?”
“I thought I had made that painfully clear,” Garak said before taking another sip of rokassa juice.
“So, what would you call this?”
Garak froze, cup halfway to his lips. “I beg your pardon?”
“This. Us fighting over literature.”
The side of Garak’s mouth ticked up in a nervous half-smile. “We are not… We are not fighting, doctor,” he said, casting a glance at the tables around them like Julian had suggested they take off their clothes in front of everyone. He cradled his mug in his hands. “We are sharing. Sharing is hardly as… as intimate as…”
“But we do argue,” Julian, who had never learned when to take a hint, continued. “In fact, we argue in public.”
“While I don’t want to bruise your ego, I do feel as though you’re pushing rather hard on the idea that our little conversations are something more than what they are.”
“Then explain the difference to me,” Julian said. “It’s not like I’m unwilling to learn.”
“No, you’re certainly willing,” Garak said, a trifle archly. He took a long sip of rokassa juice. “However, there are some things that are not fit for lunchtime conversation.”
“Dinner then,” Julian said. “We can have it in my quarters if you’re really worried about the lewdness of the whole thing.”
Garak narrowed his eyes at Julian. “Are you sure, doctor?” he asked. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Not a problem. Miles is having a date night with Keiko anyway.”
Garak nodded his head at Julian. “Very well,” he said. “Would nineteen hundred hours be a good time?”
—
Julian wasn’t sure what he had expected. He was fairly sure it wasn’t Garak showing up with two PADDs under his arm as if he were about to give a lengthy book report. “They contain Act 1, Scene 1, Lines 114-143,” Garak explained as he handed one of the PADDs to Julian. “I will take Beatrice’s part if it’s all the same to you.”
“Uh, sure,” Julian said, sitting down on the couch and looking over the PADD. “So, you want to do a read-through of it?”
“I feel that might be the only way to convey the Cardassian implications,” Garak said as he pointedly stood in the middle of the room. He held up his copy of the play. “Shall we begin?”
“You have the first line,” Julian said.
Garak nodded.
“I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor Benedick,” Garak said, irritation and something indescribably attractive coming off him in waves. The way he looked at Julian made Julian feel like he was both the lowest lifeform on the station and the undisputed champion of everything around him. “Nobody marks you.”
“My dear Lady Disdain,” Julian said, trying to match Garak’s energy. He must have done something right because Garak sucked in a breath. “Are you yet living?”
“Is it possible,” Garak said, smoothly walking over to Julian, “that disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signor Benedick?” He loomed over Julian, his icy blue eyes searching for something in him and finding him lacking. “Courtesy itself much convert to disdain when you come in her presence.”
Julian suddenly felt furious. To be found lacking was bad in of itself. To be found lacking by Garak, a man whom he’d come to enjoy being around and whom he trusted against all odds, was something else. “Then is courtesy a turncoat,” Julian said, leaping up from his chair so that he was nose to nose with Garak. “But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted.”
Garak gave him a coy, teasing smile.
“Erm,” Julian said, his lines disappearing from his memory. He glanced down at the PADD. “A-And I would I could… erm…”
“Is something bothering you, doctor?” Garak asked, a mock look of concern on his face.
“I would I could.. erm…”
“Find it in your heart?” Garak suggested. “You do have one of those, don’t you?”
“Of course I have a heart, Garak!” Julian snapped. The Cardassian was so close to him now. “It’s just… erm…”
“I think,” Garak said, his breath hot on Julian’s cheek. “I win this argument. Don’t you?”
Julian glared at him, then took in the sight of his lips. So close. He reached out and grabbed Garak’s head, crushing their lips together. He recoiled almost instantly. “God, Garak, I’m so sorry,” he said as he backed up, his eyes wide. “I didn’t mean–”
“Will you quit apologizing and kiss me again, you idiot!” Garak snapped.
If lightbulbs could appear over people’s heads, one would have done so at that exact moment over the head of Dr. Julian Bashir. “Right,” he breathed before sweeping Garak into another rough kiss. The kiss turned into a bit more than a kiss which quickly morphed into something that had Julian aiming them both for the bed. Once all was said and done, they lay side by side with Julian half-curled on Garak’s bared chest. “You win,” Julian murmured. He kissed Garak on the cheek. “Although, I still don’t think the book should be banned.”
“It isn’t,” Garak replied breezily. “In fact, it’s one of the few of Shakespeare’s works that have gained popularity on Cardassia.”
“Hang on, you’ve read this before,” Julian protested, getting up onto his hands and knees.
Garak smirked at him. “Many times,” he replied. “Although,” he added, running a hand along Julian’s neck. “I can’t say that reading it has always had such pleasurable results.”
“So that talk about lewdness, was that just an act?” Julian exclaimed, jerking away from him.
“Not at all,” Garak said, his manner eerily calm for someone who had just been accused of lying his way into intimacy. “Much Ado About Nothing is considered an erotic play on Cardassia. We wouldn’t let children near it, but it hasn’t been banned by the State. Just… discouraged in polite society.”
“So, what? You planned this all out as a way to seduce me?” Julian asked, pulling his sheets up around him.
Garak laughed wryly. “As much as I appreciate you thinking that I’ve controlled every aspect of this encounter, much of what we did was impromptu. I had some hopes when you first recommended the play, but I didn’t think I’d end up in your bed,” Garak said. “And, if you’ll recall, I did ask if you were sure when you suggested that I explain the cultural implications in your quarters.” He gestured at the two of them in bed. “This, my prince’s jester, was negotiated by both of us.”
“Oh,” Julian said. He sank down onto the bed again and inched towards Garak. “Is that a common endearment on Cardassia?” he asked as he slotted himself next to Garak again.
“Hardly,” Garak said. “But I felt it was appropriate.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Julian grumbled.
“Now, doctor, we could try for round two, but I’d rather bask in the moment, if you wouldn’t mind,” Garak teased.
Julian rolled his eyes and rested his head on Garak’s chest again. They spent a few moments in contented silence before Julian leapt up from the bed, murmuring curses to himself.
“What is it?” Garak asked, bolting upright in the bed.
“I forgot about dinner,” Julian said as he rushed towards the replicator in the living room. “You must be starving.”
Garak stared, open-mouthed, at the doorway to Julian’s living room before smiling softly to himself and curling up in bed. When Julian returned, he found Garak deeply, peacefully asleep. “Goodnight, sweet prince,” Julian murmured as he tucked the covers around Garak’s neck. He kissed him on top of the head. “And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”
It was nice, not being alone anymore. Julian was young and a little naïve, but he was intelligent and handsome. Had they been anywhere else (or if Julian had been a little less obtuse to Garak’s advances), Garak would have suggested they become more than lunch companions.
As it stood, Garak waited all week for the ninety minute lunch they had together each Wednesday. Those ninety minutes of conversation and mediocre food were all that were holding him together. He shuddered when he thought about it too hard – about what Julian could do with this power. Garak had used loneliness as an interrogation method before. Keep a person in solitary for a week, maybe a month if they’re stubborn, and they’ll begin revealing all sorts of things without even realizing it to the first person who shows them a little kindness. And what was DS9 if not an enlarged version of solitary confinement? He only had customers to talk to and even they were few and far between. The Bajorans gave him a wide berth at the best of times and openly tried to hurt him at the worst.
And then there was Julian. Kind, sweet, intelligent Julian who worked for the Federation and had all these ideas about freedom and individuality. It was like the man was purposefully designed to both intrigue and annoy Garak in particular. About twice every lunch, he felt like shaking Julian and explaining how these naïve values weren’t how the world worked. That Julian was going to get hurt someday because the innocent doctor didn’t know how to keep a secret to save his life or how to be anything other than mesmerizingly optimistic. How Garak himself was a threat to the doctor’s safety. How, if the Federation knew what was good for them, they’d put Garak on a broken down runabout and blast him into the nearest star.
Instead, he presented little puzzles. He’d gotten infuriatingly close to confiding in Julian during the whole Rugal fiasco. The idea that he and Dukat were friends, that Julian would think they were friends, was too much to bear. As much as he was a proud Cardassian, he’d rather be compared to one of those strange horned lizards Julian had told him about than Gul Dukat. But, instead of a full confession, he had led Julian through the necessary steps to see that Dukat was using children as playing pieces in his game of Kotra and that Garak was intent on stopping him. He wasn’t sure how to make it much clearer that the two of them were enemies – except, perhaps, confessing to torturing Dukat’s father. Only, that might have made him and Dukat seem closer to each other in character rather than cementing the differences between them. Better to keep that a secret for as long as possible.
And then, his wire broke.
Julian had every advantage. Garak was desperate and delirious, holding on tightly to his friendship while at the same time trying to push it away from him. He knew being around Julian was dangerous. He knew that he might say anything, even the truth, in his broken down state.
He didn’t care.
He began spinning tales. He talked about blowing up a shuttle with civilians on board, sure that would make the Federation-minded doctor leave him alone. It wasn’t entirely a lie either. He had killed civilians before, just not by blowing them up in a shuttle or in such large quantities. But what did it matter if the number was closer to nine than ninety-eight? He had killed people.
Julian didn’t care. He wanted to help Garak get through his addiction.
Garak talked about torturing Bajoran children. The people he had tortured had been neither Bajoran nor children, but what did that matter?
Julian didn’t care.
He talked about betraying his government by letting the children go. He talked about being weak enough to disobey direct orders just because he was cold and hungry.
Julian didn’t care. If anything, he sympathized with that. Garak felt like ripping him apart. He tried to rip him apart.
Then, as he lay in the infirmary, exposed for any Bajoran to laugh at, he considered his options. He had three or four days at most if they didn’t turn the implant on. The nurse had said so herself. His cranial nerve cluster was breaking down. If he was lucky, he’d be dead within a few hours. If he was unlucky, which really was the more likely option, he’d waste away over the next four days – barely conscious and in excruciating pain. He began to spin the final story, the last lie he’d ever tell. That was when Julian said something truly remarkable: “I’ve about given up on learning the truth from you, Garak.”
Warmth flooded through him. Julian was exactly as he seemed. He wasn’t even trying to interrogate Garak. He was trying to help with no secondary motive at all. The thought was enough to bring a little smile to his lips. “Oh, don’t give up on me now, doctor,” Garak said, feeling the most comfortable he’d had in years. “Patience has its rewards.”
And it did. He got as close to the truth as he dared. He stated outright that he was a member of the Obsidian Order. He mentioned Tain. He had altered records and planted evidence, normal parts of his job rather than exceptions, but the truth nonetheless. There had been a scandal. Tain certainly thought that Garak had betrayed him. Garak certainly thought that the betrayal he did commit (which, when all was said and done, really just involved loving the wrong woman) was closer to a sham than an actual betrayal. He did feel as though he had betrayed himself in some way. It wasn’t a full confession, but it would have to do. It would do for death rites.
“Why are you telling me this, Garak?” Julian said, a trifle impatiently. He clearly didn’t believe him. That was fine. He didn’t need Julian to believe him.
“So that you can forgive me,” Garak said, having neither the strength nor the will to explain Cardassian death rituals to him. “Why else?” He raised his hand without really meaning to, his eyes locked on Julian’s. “I need to know that someone forgives me.”
“I forgive you,” Julian said, clasping Garak’s hand, “for whatever it is you did.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Garak said, trying to put as much sincerity into those three words as he could. “That’s most kind.” He then closed his eyes, fairly sure he would never open them again.
When he did open his eyes, he was more clear-headed than he had been in years – a mixed blessing, considering the station was still cold and miserable, but preferable to being dead. He played the cool spy with Julian, telling him that all the lies were true, which in a way was the most honest thing he’d ever said.
Over the next few years, he would wake up in a cold sweat with images of Julian interrogating him while he was going through withdrawal playing in his head. How easy it would have been. How quickly he would have told him everything he wanted to know and more. He’d already done part of it with the three stories he told, without any prompting from Julian at all. A word here. A suggestion there. He had been like putty in the doctor’s hands.
Later, when things got more serious between them, he would realize that those days with the wire were bastioned moments of self-control in comparison to everything Dr. Julian Bashir made him feel and do as a boyfriend and then as a husband. Then again, he made Julian feel and do things that were equally as thrilling and uncomfortable and wonderful and infuriating, so he supposed the scales were weighed evenly. It was when Julian had woken him up from one of his nightmares that the truth slipped out about the nightmares’ contents.
“Yes, why didn’t I think of that, Elim?” Julian snapped, outraged by the very idea. “Interrogate a man as he’s going through withdrawal. While I’m at it, I’ll murder some puppies and burn down an orphanage.”
“I’d suggest the one we went to when we were trying to find Rugal’s records,” Garak said with a slight twinkle in his eye.
“That’s not funny.”
“Consider it giving the Bajoran government a chance to provide nicer facilities for the orphans,” Garak said.
“Still not funny,” Julian said, even as a smile began to cross his lips. He took Garak’s hand and kissed him on the knuckles. “You know I’d never interrogate you, right?” he asked. “That I’m not some…” He stopped, perhaps realizing that anything he said about interrogation would fall back on Garak. “That I wouldn’t. Not to you,” he amended.
“And what poor souls are you choosing to interrogate?” Garak quipped.
Julian rolled his eyes. “That,” he said before giving Garak a peck on the mouth, “is classified.” He pulled the duvet up around his neck. “Do you think you can go back to sleep?” he asked.
“I’ll do my best,” Garak said.
“Good. I don’t want to have to put up with a grumpy lizard all day,” Julian teased as he turned towards his side of the bed.
“I’m afraid you’re rather out of luck on that front, doctor,” Garak said. “You married a ‘grumpy lizard.’”
“An extra grumpy lizard then,” Julian said.
“Hmph,” Garak snorted as he turned onto his side again. He let out a sigh and then reached behind him for Julian’s hand. “I love you,” he said as he caught hold of it.
“I love you too,” Julian said, squeezing Garak’s hand gently.
Hey who wants to read a micro scene of Julian being sad after saying goodbye to Garak in the finale?
Garak’s voice stops. The weight of his hand lifts off my shoulder and then his whole presence is gone. Never to be seen or felt or sensed again. I feel myself sinking, knees to my chest as the tears flow.
“Oh what do I do now? What do I do?”
Sharply I remember the Founder’s illusion, the moment Garak died in my arms, Sisko pulling me away from his lifeless body. I struggle to breathe.
“Please let this also be an elaborate trick. No one is dead. Please come back.”
Garashir fanfic: after the nexus they both have a lot to think about.
@cemetrygatess you wanted some Nexus fic, I got inspired so here you go.
—
It had been weeks sense Julian had given Garak the chip in the Nexus. Cardassia had started to heal from its blight as the illness was slowly dissipating. Julian laid on his back on his bed on Ds9, it was as hard as ever but it seemed emptier somehow. Many of his friends had moved on in the last few years but he remained as he had for almost a decade now. That didn’t bother him, on most days, but tonight seemed hollow somehow like there was something missing.
Julian knew what it was, but tried to pretend he didn’t, seeing Garak in the Nexus forced him to confront an all to simple fact, that he been avoiding,
he missed him.
Garak had written to Julian with his magnum opus his confessional, it was raw, real and most frightening of all true. Julian had not responded, for one thing what does one say to that,
“thank you, your life story is tragic and moving and thanks for thinking of me. yours Bashir.”
but the truth was Bashir had started and restarted his response to Garak’s letter a hundred times over, and for once in his life he had nothing to say because nothing ever seemed long enough, eloquent enough or meaningful enough to send back. But in the end the silence was deafening, and so much time had past that every minute of silence was like putting another star between them. Distance and that distance was growing comfortable to Julian, until the nexus.
he was focused to see Garak again and in pain again, and in turmoil again, but this time, this time he had been the one to cause it. Julian wished that he had been able to give Garak the information sooner but his hands were tied, or at least that is what he told himself, as he laid awake looking at the celling.
He thought about the Nexus itself, how it felt to be there, being in ones past, present and future all at once was a strange feeling, Julian wondered if that is what Sisko is feeling right now in the worm whole, where a single moment and infinity are one in the same.
There was something strangely warm about the Nexus though, the place like being trapped your own worst experiences but there was something strangely cotectic about laying all that you are and have been in front of you.
Julian played the whole thing back again, in every detail. But his minded drifted to Garak asking him to say
“I love you.”
over and over, Garak talked about the translators and none existed in the Nexus, and that was where the warm feeling is and were it grow in Julian’s chest, was that they could talk, not just to be heard but to be understood what a wonderful feeling indeed.
he held onto that feeling as his eyes shut and his mind drifted into sleep, his mind repeating the words Garak had asked him to say.
“I love you”
His mind whispered, as sleep took him.
Julian felt his mind being filled with that feeling of the Nexus, he know that this was nothing but a dream or mental recreation but it felt like before all the same.
The was no one else here this time though, just Julian with the Nexus his mind still echoed with the words
“I love you”
‘how odd?’ said a voice in the distance. It was Garak walking towards him.
'Hello My dear Mr Garak, what brings you here?’
Julian said with a coy smile, humouring himself.
'Well, my dear Doctor considering where we are,’ he looks around confused but pleased.
'I would have to say, one of us did.’
Julian’s smile began to fade as he realised what was happening.
'It can’t be? can it? this is just a Dream right?’
Garak looked around and beyond Julian.
'Doctor I don’t know about you, but I do not dream, and I don’t hear a hum of a translator do you?’
'No, Don’t hear it, but I do dream.’
'Are they normally this blank.’
Julian looked around.
'No.’
'And another thing.’
Garak placed his hand on Julian’s shoulder. He then moved his hand past his face and brushed it against his cheek before moving his fingers loosely into Julian’s stray hairs and sharply pulling one out.
'AH, ouch, Garak.’
Garak blinked innocently at him.
'How about now, convinced yet Doctor?.’
'Alright, Alright you got me. Not a dream.’
The two men, looked at each other with annoyance, that grow into sly side eyes, that grow into smiles and light chuckles.
'How do you supposed this happened?’
asked Julian,
'Who’s to say. left over energy from last time, our brain waves may still me in sync, we both fell asleep at the same time perhaps?’
Garak answered eyes wondering.
'But you know doctor if I may be completely honest.’
'Frist time for everything. Go on.’
Garak look right at him and put both his hands on his shoulders.
'I don’t care how this happened, but I would like to enjoy it, won’t you?’
A bright smile landed on Julian’s face.
'I would.’
'Good I’m glad, though I think we could, between to two of us, come up with better décor don’t you?’
Julian thought for a moment.
'I have an idea, its not flashy, fancy or grandiose in anyway but I feel it will get the job done.’
'By all means Doctor.’
Garak waved his hand gesturing for Julian to 'take the stage’.
'Very well then.’
Julian closed his eyes and focused for a moment. The scene faded in around them as they stood in place. It was Ds9, the promenade, the replamat to be exact, they stood near what was their usual table that they had shared countless lunches together for seven years.
'How’s this.’
Julian asked as the scene started with all the people on ds9 began to move and go about there business.
'Perfect, My dear, shale we.’
Garak moved to the table and pulled out Julian’s chair for him as he moved around to sit in his. The men sat and started to talk like no time or distance had come between them.
This prompt has been sitting on my shower wall for ages, mocking me. (The additions in red were my mom getting impatient with me lol.) Finally did something with it:
old marrieds garak and julian be like “my dear doctor bashir :) is the cardassian heat getting to you today? your poor delicate terran body. let me get you a glass of rokassa juice :)” and julian’s like “you must be going senile :) you know i fucking hate that shit :)” and garak’s like “YOU must be going senile :) of course i remember you don’t like it but don’t YOU remember that it is great for dehydration” and julian’s like “whatever. it disgusts me. YOU disgust me” and garak just gets him a glass of space gatorade and turns on the fan and says with all the love in his heart “and you disgust me my dear” and they’re just like. so happy and in love lol
“Well, Riaski, I’m glad someone is enjoying this wretched heat.”
Riaski, the newest addition to the Garak Bashir household, was purring contentedly atop the maroon settee, laying on her side next to her human, soaking up the sun.
Julian had lived on Cardassia Prime for many years, and had done so happily. But every year, in the height of summer, he sweats like a pig, drinks gallons of water each day, and rethinks all of the major decisions of his life.
“You know you mock me, darling girl? You lie there, in all your glory, boasting your tolerance, no, adoration, for this awful, horrible weather, and it pains me. It truly does.”
“Julian,” Garak called from the garden. “Are you berating the cat again?”
He made his way up the deck and through the sliding glass door.
“Well?” He teased, looking at Julian expectantly.
“No!” Julian scoffed. “Of course not! Who do you think I am?”
“I think that you are a man who is flirting with heat exhaustion, and you’re taking it out on our dear Madame Garak Bashir. Please, Julian, drink some rokassa juice, go lie down with the fan on, leave her be.”
His words were kind, but his tone and facial expressions were that of a cat who had caught a considerable canary. Garak lived for summer. Because of the time he spent on Deep Space Nine, he never took the heat for granted. Plus, he got to care for his husband, while teasing him mercilessly - two of his favorite activities.
“Oh, my dear Mister Garak, it breaks my heart to see that you’re going senile.”
“Whatever do you mean, my dear Doctor?”
“The fact that you would even think to mention rokassa juice in my presence leads me to believe that you are losing your precious marbles.”
“Ha!” Garak laughed. “A bold assertion. It only proves that it is not my, but your, mental capacity that is withering. Were you not delirious due to dehydration, you would recall that rokassa juice is rich with electrolytes, and a tried and true ally to those in dire need of refreshment.”
Julian glared at him.
“Well you - I - hm. You know what, while I am not actually dehydrated, I am tired. Too tired to argue, in fact. Just know, rokassa juice disgusts me. You disgust me.”
Garak smiled, and walked over to the replicator. He retrieved a glass of coconut water, set it on the table beside the settee, and pressed a kiss to his husband’s cheek.
“And you disgust me,” he said, with all of the love in his heart.
Julian leaned his head against the back of the settee, looking up at his husband fondly.
Clint takes a sip, expecting the burned-black bitterness of gas station coffee, and he’s hit, instead, with sugary chocolatey sweetness. He double-takes and then glances up at Bucky, who’s pokerfaced but turning red, just a little, along the blades of his cheekbones.
“I put some hot chocolate in it,” he says, mumbling it out. He doesn’t sound ashamed, exactly. Embarrassed, maybe.
“Oh,” Clint says.
Years ago, when he couldn’t stomach anything bitter, he drank his coffee this way. He drinks it black now, doesn’t have time for anything that dilutes the pure rush of caffeine, but he finds that he is not at all inclined to pour it out and go back for stronger coffee.
He wonders if there’s anyone else in the world who remembers – or cares – that Clint used to drink his gas station coffee mixed with hot chocolate.
Imagine Julian and Garak waking up. The Cardassian sun streams through the window bathing them in pleasant warmth. Garak orders red leaf and tarkalean tea from the replicator, and they sip it while still in bed, discussing plans for the day. Julian kisses Garak's shoulder.
I don’t want to add a new WIP to the list, but I am suddenly struck by the necessity of writing a fic where Garak is about to blow up the founders’ planet with Julian on it and the quote comes to mind, not that I loved him less, but that I loved Rome more
(Obviously a continuation of his Julius Caesar thoughts in The Die Is Cast, since this is a continuation of Tain’s efforts to destroy the changelings before they destroyed Cardassia)
An angsty and unedited gift for you all under the cut!
