Archive of Our Own ^beta

Julian swans into their quarters with the kind of clumsy grace than means he’s upset about something, long limbs moving so quickly and erratically that Garak’s surprised his enhanced reflexes kick in time to save their lamp. Garak merely raises an eye ridge and holds out a cup of tea to him, smiling softly.

 Julian takes the tea with a noise that borders on a whimper, gazing into the drink as though it possesses the solution to whatever’s troubling him. Garak doesn’t think his red leaf tea is quite that good. Julian lets out an almost pained sigh as he blows on his tea, even though they both know it was replicated to his liking. “Ezri thinks I’m depressed. Can you believe that?”

 “My dear, I told you that you were depressed months ago.” Garak reminds him in a tone he hopes is more gentle than smug, tentatively reaching a hand out to press along the vein in Julian’s neck. Julian glances at him sharply out of the corner of his eye, smiling in spite of himself. Garak doesn’t think he managed to hide the smugness after all.

 Julian twists around on the couch so his back faces Garak, the slim lines of his shoulder tense underneath the lines of his thin t-shirt. Julian’s taken to wearing his civilian clothes in their quarters due to the heat, and while they’re no more attractive than his uniform, it is easier to see his body in them. Garak will take what small victories he can get. Julian’s voice is clipped when he speaks, but also has a note of defeat. “Yes, and I might have been then. But I’m fine now. Perfectly -.”

 “Perfectly normal?” Garak asks with a wry smile, raising an eye ridge as he wraps an arm around Julian’s waist. Julian lets out a chortle that’s just a hair too loud, shifting towards him on the cushions until he’s starting to lean on him.

 “Darling, I haven’t been normal since the day I was born. The only thing that’s changed are the ways I’m not.” Julian answers him with an empty smirk, lying back so that his head rests against Garak’s knee. Garak brushes a hand across his hair, watching as something at once hopeful and scared comes into Julian’s eyes.  “Possibly.”

 Garak sucks in a deep breath. It’s the most Julian’s ever capitulated on the ‘Jules’ question. Garak decides to take the moment for what it is, brushing his hands through Julian’s hair more gently as he watches the other man’s eyelashes flutter in almost slow motion. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

 “Ezri’s diagnosis? Well, her medical advice was to make more appointments with her.” Julian lets out a warm laugh, ringing across the room and making his head vibrate slightly beneath Garak’s fingers. His smile borders on gleeful, even though there’s a look to his eye that’s almost bitter. “If we didn’t live in a post money world, I’d think she was having me on.”

 Garak smooths a few loose strands of hair, gaze softening as Julian’s body tenses slightly. He doesn’t want to go. “You know that she’s not.”

 “Yes, yes, and I promise both of you I’ll go to as many sessions as it takes to make both of you stop worrying about me.” Julian’s grin widens in a way that borders on the smug. Garak lets out a short sigh, raising an eye ridge as hope and experience war in his heart. He believes Julian will try, but if a distraction where he can play the martyr makes itself available then …“I can take care of myself, you know.”

 “Of course you can, my dear. It’s always been a question of ‘will’, not ‘can’.” Garak murmurs into his hair, grinning so widely he’s sure Julian can hear the sharp edges of his teeth in his voice. Julian playfully bats at the side of his neck with one hand, brushing against especially sensitive ridges.

 Garak almost chooses to be the serious for a moment, because Julian needs help and Ezri is more qualified than him, as much as Garak hates to admit it. But when he looks into Julian’s eyes, there’s a silent understanding there, a promise that he knows and he will go.

 Garak accepts it with a kiss.

  Julian rolls his eyes as pointedly as he can, pacing the small space between their couch and where Elim sits in his armchair, chin tilted up in a perfect imitation of a disapproving teacher. He’s never had difficulty learning the in’s and outs and different, often unspoken rules of the various languages he knows, seeing it almost as a game. That was, until Elim became his teacher. “How could I have possibly said ‘good morning’ wrong? I said it in the exact same tone that I say it to you most days.”

 “Yes, and I’m your lover, my dear. It wouldn’t look good for either of us if you flirted so overtly with every other Cardassian you met.” Elim tuts as he raises an eye ridge pointedly, speaking in perfect Kardassi. Each word sounds more eloquent, richer than what his Federation standard sounds like. Julian finds it intoxicating, hanging off of each syllable in a way that borders on embarrassing.

 “Fine. Then how about I use this tone? Good morning, dear.” Julian drops his voice half an octave, voice what he hopes comes out as sharp and agitated. Despite that, Julian lets his gaze grow hooded as he perches on the right arm of the chair, body spreading out over in a way he hopes looks more sensual than gangly.

 Elim scoffs low in his throat as he gives Julian’s knee a sharp tap before letting his hand rest on his lower thigh. There’s a glimmer to Elim’s gaze, a certain curl to his lips that almost ruins his image as a strict instructor. Julian smiles at him winsomely, idly wondering how his voice sounds to Elim in Kardassi. Elim lets out a pained huff as he starts massaging his thigh. “Julian, you know enough about Cardassia to know that level of irritation is nothing short of an invitation.”

 “Maybe I’m waiting for you to break the seal on my envelope.” Julian whispers into his ear, letting his warm breath slide across the shell and then down the ridges at the top of Elim’s neck. He wonders idly if the words translate correctly, but he supposed it doesn’t matter. The way he’s nipping at Elim’s scales should get his message across either way.

 “Yes dear, follow up with that, it certainly neuters any possible sexual interest any respectable Cardassian could have in you.” Elim assures him with a sharp laugh, eyes widening in what’s apparent disbelief as he gives Julian a quick once over. Despite his words, there’s a familiar sparkle to Elim’s gaze as his hand runs up Julian’s thigh. Elim tilts his head up and grants him a quick kiss on the corner of his lips, mouth warm against his skin.

 Julian grins brightly as he leans in, gaze practically dancing as he lazily slides his arm around Elim’s neck. He leans down until their foreheads are pressed together and then whispers into Elim’s ear in the sweetest Kardassi he can manage. “Lucky for me that you’re not respectable, then.”

 Garak thinks that one of the most delightful parts of dating Julian is the other man’s ability to surprise him and throw him off-kilter without even trying, unpredictable even in his carefully calculated routines. Still, delightful as it is, it does mean he’s caught off guard far more often than he likes when Julian suddenly looks up at him with those wide, beseeching eyes.

 Like now.

 “You know, at some point we do need to discuss the future, Elim.” Julian’s voice comes out soft and sweet, his hands reaching for his red leaf tea as though to hide the way they’re nervously flitting through the air. Garak keeps his face as steady as possible while reaching for his own cup. It’s never good to give away one’s hand too soon.

 “Do we! I seem to remember you deciding to move to Cardassia with me without once asking my opinion.” Garak tuts in Cardassian, the natural hiss of the language giving his mock-affront a sharpness it doesn’t have in Cardassian. Julian rolls his shoulders as he leans back on his side of the couch, arms crossed behind his head like the most uncomfortable pillow Garak can imagine.

 “I didn’t realize I had until it was already done.” Julian corrects him in near perfect Cardassian, the only thing missing the hisses and underpinnings to show true aggression. Instead there’s something almost flat about his voice, everything coming out more playful even when Garak is sure he means it. “Besides, you would have broken up with me again if I’d asked you about it.”

 “Possibly. Now, my dear, what is that you think you actually need to share with me this time?” Garak keeps his voice as neutral as possible, even as the tightness building at the base of his throat relaxes into what wants to be a sigh. Whatever potential future has Julian so hesitant, it doesn’t seem to be about Cardassia or him.

 “Cardassia values family above everything except the State.” Julian looks away from him then, gaze locking onto the deep crimson of his coffee instead. Garak tilts his head to the right in silent confirmation, not sure where Julian’s hesitance stems from. Even Julian must know by now that Garak considers him as much a part of his family as he does Mila. They’re not promised to each other, true but … he imagines they might be, when his feet touch Cardassian soil again. “Do you want children?”

 Garak’s eyes widen in spite of himself when Julian speaks, words blunt and slightly despairing. That’s not a question he’d been allowed to consider before. But there is no Tain to stop him now and Julian alone represents futures he never would have allowed for himself a decade ago. “It wasn’t a question I was allowed to ask myself when I was a part of the Obsidian Order.”

 Julian gives him a flat look tinged with disappointment at his obvious evasiveness. But then his gaze sharpens as he takes in the set of Garak’s eye ridges and the twist of his lips, the rueful hope of dreams long forgotten there. The want that he’s held at bay for decades.

 Julian sees it and looks away, swallowing tightly and closing his eyes. His voice is tight and stilted when he speaks, a tremor of a nervous laugh embedded in every word. “I don’t see myself as a fatherly type.”

 Garak knows Julian well enough to what the way his flickering gaze and crooked smile means, to see past them and to see the sheer terror in his gaze. No, the question for Julian here is not one of want, but as always with his lover, of should. Garak slides a hand to Julian’s shoulder without looking, hold firm. “Then you’d think you’d nag me less about my health.”

 Garak doesn’t even pretend to be surprised when Julian smacks him in the chest with a throw pillow half a second later.

  “You know, outside of a few stories about gardening, you’ve barely told me anything about your time on Romulus.” Julian murmurs as he finishes packing his pajamas and one spare uniform, a skant for once. They hadn’t given them a dress code beyond the formal dinner, and if Julian’s going to be forced to play Sloan’s games, he at least wants to look nice doing it. Elim keeps his eyes glued to the padd in front of him, as though Julian hasn’t said a word. Stubborn old thing. “That means either you did truly terrible things there or that it was terribly boring.”

 “And you’re annoyed I’m leaving you in suspense about which it is.” Elim tuts as he carefully lifts Kukalaka up from his spot on their shelf. He holds the bear between his hands for a moment, eyeing the latest stitches along his sides with an air of careful professionalism.

 He’s redone three of Julian’s own attempts there, calling them crooked and clearly done by someone trying to hurry through a job. It had made Julian’s heart swell with emotions he couldn’t name when Elim couldn’t tell his attempts, sloppy from impatience and distraction, from Jules’ slow and steady ones. Julian tries not to think about the too much.

 Julian scoffs low in his throat when Elim finally holds Kukalaka up to him, a slight frown meaning that some stitch would be redone after Julian returned home. Elim pulls the bear back at the last minute, and it’s only Julian’s quick reflexes that let him wrestle Kukalaka from his arms. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to talk me out of going to this conference.”

 “You know perfectly well that I am since lunch yesterday. You won’t get the peace you want from this or the answers about Sloan.” Elim’s voice comes out more like a warning, one hand coming up to brush against his cheek. There’s a knowing to his gaze that makes Julian’s heart stutter a little, though he’s not sure if it’s in disappointment or with fear.

 Elim is rarely wrong about these kinds of things, and f he’s worried for Julian then there’s reason to worry.

 “Oh, I don’t think I will. I am endeavoring to be more cynical each and every day, remember?” Julian reminds him with a wry grin, arching one eyebrow carefully. He slides Kukalaka in his rightful place on top of the his pajamas, patting the side of the bear’s head for good measure. When he meets Elim’s gaze, he finds both bemusement and worry heavy in his gaze.

 “I didn’t believe you when you said it before and I don’t believe you now.” Elim tuts as he leans over to press the suitcase shut. Julian smiles tightly, leaning over the suitcase to grab Elim’s hand and entwine their hands together. Julian doesn’t want to leave things on a sour note if he can avoid it. The conference is going to be stressful enough as it is.

 Julian smiles at him softly, but puts as much steel into his gaze as he can muster. He is not fragile and protecting the Federation from men like Sloan is necessary. He won’t have the things he loves poisoned if he has the means to stop it. “But you’re worried it might happen anyway, which is why you don’t want me to go.”

 “Has anyone ever told you you're too smart for your own good?” Elim lets out a low sigh, eye ridges smoothing out as he squeezes Julian’s hand back softly. Julian accepts it as the defeat it is, gaze grateful as he leans into to press a kiss to Elim’s waiting mouth.

 “Ironically enough my father.” Julian murmurs against his lips and then Elim’s the one driving the kiss, forceful and sure as he comes to grip Julian’s hips. It’s almost finished as soon as it started, Elim smiling politely while Julian lets out breathy gasps.

 Julian supposes that’s one way of giving him something to come home for.

  Julian comes back from his conference with a few less stars in his eyes for the Federation, but with more for Romulus and somehow more for him. So Garak listens to plans to save the Federation that will assuredly fail while Julian presses kisses along his jaw and thanks Gods he doesn’t believe in for keeping Julian himself a little longer.