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 wasn’t sure why it clicked in that particular moment. They hadn’t been doing anything special. Garak was chopping up some fresh kenil stalks for dinner. Julian had walked up behind him and pressed his forehead to his shoulder.
“Long day?” Garak asked, although he already knew the answer. Julian nodded against him. “Well, dinner will be ready soon,” he said.
“Thank you, love,” Julian said. Garak felt rather than saw Julian peek over his shoulder at what he was making. “Wait, you’re doing it by hand?”
“I thought that was painfully obvious,” Garak said as he swept the tough, fibrous ends of the stalks off his cutting board with the edge of his knife.
“No, no, no,” Julian said, plucking the knife out of Garak’s hand. He scoot him away from the cutting board with a bump of his hip. “I’ll do it. You check on the stew or something.”
“My dear, it’s quite–”
“Don’t you dare tell me it’s ‘alright,’ Elim Garak,” Julian said imperiously. “I’m the one who did the scans on your hands, remember? I’m the one who gave you the arthritis pills. Until those start healing your hands, you’re not doing any cutting up of fibrous plants. Do we understand each other?”
Tears filled Garak’s eyes. He tried to blink them away, but failed miserably. He sniffled. He never sniffled. Sniffling was undignified of a Cardassian well past the age of schoolyard complaints. The noise caught Julian’s attention. “Oh, God… Elim, I’m sorry,” he said, rushing to take hold of Garak’s hands. “I didn’t mean…” He rubbed his thumb over Garak’s knuckles. “You’ll be perfectly capable in a bit. You just need to take it easy is all.”
“You love me,” Garak said. The words tumbled out of him unbidden.
Julian reared his head back, his brow furrowed. “Well, yes,” he said. “We’re married.”
“No, I mean you really, truly love me,” Garak said. “Even if I were to be of no use to you whatsoever.”
Julian grimaced at him. “Well, you are known for being incredibly useless,” he teased.
Tears streaked down Garak’s cheeks.
Julian’s eyes widened. “Shit! No, I mean… That was a joke, Elim. You know I think you’re incredibly clever and… Useful?“ He furrowed his brow. "Where did this idea of usefulness come from?”
“Forget I said anything,” Garak said, wrenching his hands from Julian’s grip. The act was a physically painful one in addition to the emotional pain he felt.
“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Julian said. He reached for Garak again, then presumably remembered that he was dealing with a former member of the Obsidian Order and dropped his hand to his side. “So maybe try me again on this usefulness idea?”
“It was simply a turn of phrase,” Garak lied.
Julian groaned and rubbed at his eyes. “Lying spiral,” he said. It was the term that Julian had come up with during their first year of marriage for when Garak thought the truth couldn’t be told and began to spin more and more elaborate lies. “You’re in a lying spiral.”
“I am not!” Garak lied. “I can’t help that you’re still ignorant of Cardassian idioms after living on Cardassia Prime for ten years.”
“I’m not and you’re definitely in a lying spiral,” Julian said. He walked back over to the cutting board and began chopping the kenil again. “Just… tell me when you’re out of it. I’m worried.”
For some reason that Garak would not acknowledge, the words “I’m worried” drew more tears out of him. He retreated to their bedroom to try to garner his self-control again.
underused garashir trope is when the others conspire to get them together because the pining is getting SO ANNOYING and then they quickly realize that it’s actually much worse when they’re together
“Another all nighter, I presume?” Garak asked as he walked into their kitchen.
Julian was surrounded by PADDs and a couple of empty raktajino mugs. He turned half-lidded eyes towards Garak. He had been working for three days straight on a cure for a new strain of Andorian flu. “What’re you doing up, Gary?” he asked, his words slurred.
Garak raised an eyebrow ridge at him. “Gah-ree?” he asked. “Is that some Earth pet name I’m unaware of?”
“No, it’s…” Julian furrowed his brow. “Gary’s a name.” He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “How did Gary come up?”
“Ah,” Garak said. He turned towards their replicator and began typing in a code.
“Didn’t know you drink raktajinos,” Julian said as the familiar mug materialized on the replicator platform.
“I don’t,” Garak replied. He took the mug from the replicator and set it down in front of Julian. “This is for you.”
Julian smiled sleepily at Garak. “Thank you, darling,” he said, taking the warm mug in his hands.
“You’re quite welcome, Julie,” Garak said.
“Wot?” Julian protested.
“A little joke. Drink your raktajino, dear.”
Julian nodded and took a sip of raktajino. “Is this a new recipe?” he asked with a grimace. “It tastes… odd.”
“Quite new. I engineered it just for the occasion.”
“Occasion?” Julian echoed. “What…?” He slumped a little against the table as his muscle tension started to leave him.
“There we go,” Garak said as Julian slid onto the table, his eyes fluttering shut. “I thought perhaps I was losing my touch. You’ll be asleep for twenty-four hours. I’ll be sure to inform the hospital.”
“No fair,” Julian grumbled. “Trick.”
“My dear, you know quite well that you didn’t marry an honest man,” Garak said as he hoisted Julian’s arm over one shoulder. As he levered Julian to his feet, he added: “At least I use my deceptions for good these days.”
“Need me,” Julian grumbled. “Can’t sleep.”
“What the hospital needs is a fully cognizant Dr. Julian Bashir,” Garak said as he dragged Julian to their bedroom. He flopped the doctor down on their bed. “You, my dear, are not a cognizant Julian Bashir.”
“’Cause you drugged me!” Julian protested.
“Even before I got involved, you were having difficulties,” Garak said as he tucked Julian into bed. He kissed Julian on the forehead. “Rest now, my dear,” he said. “I’ll check on you when I get back from work.”
