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Chapter Text

Garak was touching him as though he were glass and might shatter at a moment’s notice. If Julian were perfectly honest – which he rarely was, an unfortunate habit he and Garak shared – it was unexpectedly delightful.

Garak’s hands were all over him, lightly pressing here, caressing there, sliding ever lower, and Julian didn’t want it to stop. He knew this was just foreplay, of course. Besides, he could handle more. He wanted more.

His first attempt at hastening things along was met with a disapproving look from Garak. “Patience is a virtue, my dear doctor,” Garak said, but it was a virtue he seemed to be quickly running out of, because just moments later, Garak was pulling them towards the bed, seating himself on its edge, and pulling Julian into his lap.

There was strength in Garak’s motions, yes, but it was more than that – it was a quiet strength that knew itself well – knew when to hold back and when to surrender control.

But Garak didn’t seem to be anywhere near losing control. Certainly, he wasn’t breathing as hard as Julian. And clearly, he hadn’t lost nearly as much of his composure.

Garak lowered himself onto the bed, arranging himself so alluringly that Julian couldn’t help but be pulled into the well of his gravity. He crawled forward to kiss the other. Julian had been expecting to be ravished, but instead, Garak kissed him tenderly, one hand on the nape of his neck, stroking soothing lines down Julian’s spine.

Julian was the first to pull away for breath. His gaze met Garak’s, who was looking at him, enraptured.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Julian breathed.

“Like what?” Garak asked, brow furrowing, just a little, creases forming along the ridges of his face.

“Like I hung the stars in the sky,” Julian said, for lack of a better phrase.

“Well, didn’t you?” Garak asked, a twinkle in his eyes.

Julian couldn’t help but smile back. “Well, maybe I had a little something to do with a few of them,” he allowed.

Garak took Julian’s chin in hand, his thumb resting on his beloved’s lower lip. “Julian. May I make love to you?”

Julian flushed. “I thought that much was evident,” he said, but Garak was displeased with this answer.

“I haven’t done a very good job courting you if that’s the most enthusiastic consent you can muster,” Garak said, and this time, when he lifted Julian off him, there was a harder edge to the strength with which he did so.

“Garak, wait,” Julian said, reaching for Garak.

When Garak turned back, there was heat in his gaze. “Yes?” Was all he said.

“You’ve been touching me like I’m porcelain all evening. Like I’m – something breakable. Some valuable thing that-”

“Stop,” Garak said, cutting Julian off by dropping to his knees before him. “I can’t stand to hear you talk about yourself that way. You are valued, yes. But not valuable, not in the way latinum is valuable. Invaluable, I’ll allow. Priceless, even. Beyond compare. Worth more to me than all the moons of Bajor and Cardassia combined. I – I wanted our first time to be special. I wanted you to know that you are precious to me.” Garak lifted one of Julian’s hands to his lips with infinite tenderness. “Forgive me. I’ve failed.”

Julian listened to this, quietly taking it in. When Garak finished, he was breathless, chest heaving and hands trembling.

“Garak,” Julian said, voice soft and smooth. “I love you, too,” words which made Garak brighten like the dawn and press himself into Julian.

“I-” Garak closed his eyes.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Julian said, intertwining their fingers. “If you’re not ready… I already know,” he said, bringing their clasped hands over his heart. “In here.”

And he smiled like the sun, and Garak was helpless but to smile back. Julian pulled him in for a kiss.

“We’ll try again another time,” Julian said, looking around Garak’s quarters. “I should probably go.”

“Stay the night,” Garak pleaded.

An uneasy look came over Julian.

“I just want to hold you,” Garak confessed, and Julian was swayed, because, if he were being honest – which he made a mental note to do more often – he wanted nothing more than to be held by Garak.

“I’d like that,” said Julian, a certain sleepiness coming over him all at once. He yawned, then covered his mouth, slightly embarrassed. He turned away and retreated towards the center of the bed, only to find that Garak had followed him.

He hadn’t felt the bed dip and was startled by the way Garak’s arms snaked across his midsection, drawing him close to Garak’s strong, sturdy body. Julian felt enveloped in a great warmth, and he felt Garak’s lips ghost across his forehead.

And he might have been mistaken, but he thought he heard Garak whisper something that sounded like “I love you,” as he crossed into that liminal space between waking and sleep.

Chapter Text

Garak, after that first night, made Julian wait an age for another chance. Any time Julian would broach the subject, Garak would look at Julian as though he were gazing straight through him and ask, quietly, “Are you certain you’re ready?”

And the first time, Julian had been certain; so sure was he in his convictions that he all but begged Garak to reconsider when the other said, “We both imbibed at dinner tonight. I’m sorry, Julian. If I’d known you were so eager, I’d have abstained.”

“But-”

And Julian had hardly had a chance to get a word in edgewise when Garak continued, with a heat bordering on venom in his voice, “No but’s. The first time I have you, I want to experience it. Savor it. Remember it. Every moment. Every minute. And I want your head to be equally clear.”

Julian had almost protested, but he knew Garak was right. That certainty that he’d felt earlier had been liquid courage and was bleeding away even as Garak led him to the door, hand dangerously low on Julian’s back.

“Come by tomorrow,” Garak said. “Especially if you’ve reconsidered.”

But tomorrow came, and Julian became so engrossed by his work that it was twenty-three hundred hours before he realized that he was too tired and it probably too late to go to Garak’s. He paged the other on his combadge. “Garak? Are you still awake?”

“Of course, my dear Doctor. Just doing some late-night embroidery. I suppose we both got caught up in our work.”

“How did you know I-”

“Ah, Julian. I know you well enough. If you were going to have come by, you would have already. I’m sure that whatever you were working on was pressing, or at least interesting enough to have held your attention for all this time. Embroidery isn’t difficult or even terribly interesting, but I’ve been listening to something called an audiobook.”

“About?” Julian inquired.

There was a long pause during which Julian feared he’d lost Garak.

“It’s a book of love poems.”

“May I sleep over tonight?” Silence. “Your quarters are closer,” Julian tried. Another abyssal pause followed. “I’m quite tired, Garak.”

Julian could tell by Garak’s tone that the other had already relented. “My quarters are closer by half a corridor, and you know that,” Garak chided. “But if you insist, you can come sleep here with me tonight. Just sleep.”

“Of course,” Julian said, making a motion with his hands as though nothing else had crossed his mind, as if Garak could see him. “Bashir out.”

He made it to Garak’s in record time.

When they were settling into bed, Julian asked, “Those poems you were reading earlier. Were they any good?”

“Yes, but I don’t think they quite captured the feeling of loving someone like you.”

“What does that mean?” Julian asked, genuinely perplexed.

And Garak had kissed his forehead, lips softer than he remembered. “That you defy explanation, that you possess beauty beyond compare. That you are immeasurably precious to me, so precious even your world’s greatest poets couldn’t properly describe the vastness of this feeling.”

“Oh,” Julian had said. Then, tentatively, “Hold me?” Even as Garak began to rearrange himself to comply, he began to explain. “It’s been a long day and-”

“Say no more,” Garak soothed him. “All you had to do was ask.” He arranged the covers around them as he slotted into place against Julian. Garak gazed at Julian in that strange way of his – but Julian allowed it. “Computer, lights,” Garak said, after a full minute of this: the other looking at Julian unblinkingly, soaking him in like one would bask in the light of a sun, and brightening like a moon, smile growing wider by degrees.

Julian felt his heart filling up like a well when the floods came, slowly – then all at once, until it felt it just might burst with the feeling of being enough.

He let his breathing even out, but found it hard to settle into sleep, despite the bone-deep weariness that plagued him. So, when Garak whispered, “I love you, Julian,” likely thinking him asleep, Julian found Garak’s hand in the darkness and squeezed.

“And I love you, Garak,” he said, suddenly breathless – as if he’d arrived at this moment at a full sprint. “So much,” he added.

Silence reigned for a long moment.

“On Cardassia, we have a saying. ‘I have loved you for a hundred lifetimes; may I love you for a thousand more.’”

“I thought you didn’t like poetry,” Julian whispered, if only to calm the thundering of his heart.

“On the contrary. I rather enjoy love poems. But words on a PADD are worthless – without someone to cherish.”

“Mhmm,” Julian hummed. Between Garak’s warmth and the way his words wrapped around him like a blanket, sleep was quickly overtaking him.

“Sleep now, beloved,” Garak whispered against the nape of his neck, and Julian did.

Chapter Text

The days passed in a blur of forward motion, but the nights – oh, the nights were theirs. Just his and Garak’s. The rest of the station – indeed, the rest of the galaxy – faded away when it was just the two of them, whether they were sitting under the glow of candlelight, eating something Garak had replicated that Julian just had to try, because “it would be a shame to let the fact that the replicators are of a Cardassian make and model go to waste, now wouldn’t it?”

“Do you miss it?” Julian asked.

“Miss what, my dear?” Garak said, a hint of an edge in his voice.

“Cardassia. Home.”

“Cardassia? Very much so.” Garak finished replicating the last of the food, and Julian did have to admit that replicated Cardassian food tasted better than any human or Bajoran food the replicators here made. “But I’ve found a home. No – I made a home.” He set the food down. “Cardassia was never my home. Not since I was a very small boy, and that was quite a long time ago. The Cardassia I loved was a myth. I came to realize that, in my exile.” The word must have tasted bitter, based on the way Garak spat it out. His voice slowly softened as he raised his eyes to meet Julian’s. “But you taught me that there are certain things in this life worth fighting for, and other things that are best left in the past. My history… Doesn’t define me. And it certainly doesn’t get to dictate my story. You are my home, Julian. And you always will be, for as long as you allow me to have a place in your heart.”

Julian blinked up at Garak, unsure of what to say, but then it occurred to him that actions could speak louder than words, so he stood from the table in one smooth motion and crossed the room towards Garak. He slid his hands around the other’s waist, and briefly wondered just how many layers of clothing the other had on and when he’d get the chance to find out, but then they were kissing, and he became incapable of coherent thought.

He pulled away, and it was as though Garak’s eyes had grown dark, vast and fathomless like the depths of space. “I want you,” Julian said.

“I want you, too,” Garak said. “But I want you to be certain. And I’ve rarely wanted anything more.”

Julian licked his lips, and rolled his hips against Garak’s. “Don’t I seem sure?”

“You do seem a little eager, perhaps,” Garak allowed, a sly smile on his face. He gestured towards the table. “Dine with me first.”

Julian frowned. The last thing he wanted to do right now was eat, but as Garak took a seat, Julian had little choice to follow.

Julian was about to pour himself a glass of sparkling water, but Garak stilled his hand. “Try the tea. It goes delightfully with the meal.”

Julian obliged, silently lifting his cup to his lips.

“Wait,” Garak said, and Julian put the cup down with such force that the other winced. “Perhaps you should allow me to explain,” he said, leaning forward, a conspiratorial glow in his eyes. “This dish is from the eastern peninsula of the Northern Continent. From an arid mountain region. It’s extraordinarily spicy. The tea is just the opposite: on it’s on, it’s sweet, almost cloyingly so. It’s meant to soothe the palate after you’ve taken a bite or two. Here, try it,” Garak said, spooning a handful of meat onto Julian’s plate. “Enjoy.”

Slowly, Julian picked up his fork and speared a bit of the meat. He dragged it through the sauce, blew on it even though it wasn’t terribly hot, and then took a bite. Immediately, he reached for the tea. Spicy was hardly the word for the food – fiery, perhaps, would be more accurate. But true to Garak’s word, the tea calmed those flames, and went down smooth and creamy. “It’s delicious,” Julian choked out.

“It grows on you,” Garak assured him.

Julian took another tentative bite and was once again compelled to take a long drag of tea. “Wow.”  

“You don’t like it,” Garak, who had hardly touched his own food, set down his fork.

“No,” Julian protested. “I love it. It’s just.. Got a bit of a kick, is all. It’s very flavorful.”

Garak laughed at this. “Indeed, it is.” It didn’t take long for Julian to finish the small amount that Garak had put on his plate, going through two and a half cups of tea in the process. He snaked his arm over the table, fork reaching for a bit of what was on Garak’s plate. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Garak cautioned.

“Why not?” Julian asked, petulant.

“You’re not going to like my answer,” Garak warned.

“Try me,” Julian challenged.

“I made you the child’s version of this dish. I know you’re not a Cardassian, so I made it far less potent than I would have otherwise.”

“You didn’t think I could handle it,” Julian accused. He leaned back in his seat, looking towards the other side of Garak’s spacious quarters. He hadn’t noticed the native flora, and well, he was a doctor, not a botanist – he should probably ask Keiko, come to think of it, whenever she got back from the latest xenobotany conference on Bajor – but it seemed as though the flowering plants were from Earth, the greenest ones from Bajor, including the succulents which grew freely in humid, rainy parts of the planet. But the fruit-bearing plants were all Cardassian.

“Julian, it’s a matter of biology, and you’d know that if you had read the manual I gave you-”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he mumbled, still half-holding onto his train of thought. It was such a strange combination of plants, all scattered across the room like planets and moons across a solar system.

“You wanted what to be a surprise?” Garak asked.

Julian’s attention snapped back to the matter at hand. “Well, everything.” Julian said, blushing. He was specifically thinking of their first encounter. He wondered if it would be tonight, although the hard edge to Garak’s voice indicated that luck would not be on his side.

“You’re my doctor, and you know nothing of my biology. How reassuring.” Garak turned away.  

And Julian snuck a little food off Garak’s plate while the other was distracted. “I didn’t know that was all I was to you,” Julian said, considering the food on his fork.

“Julian, that’s not what I meant and you kn- What do you think you’re doing? I meant it! Humans simply can’t handle-”

And that was all he needed to hear to make up his mind. Julian, personally affronted, took it as a challenge. He shoved the fork into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “See? I can handle a little bit of heat.” He said, but he’d spoken too soon, because this heat was a delayed heat, a fiery sort of burning that he could feel all the way down to his esophagus. “Fuck.”

Garak was looking at him gravely. “Where’s your combadge?”

Julian pointed to the side table by the door, but he managed to choke out a “Why?” even as he was reaching for and guzzling more tea, but no amount of tea in the world was going to help him now.

“Because. It’s only going to start hurting worse. Cardassians have a tolerance for spicy foods almost fifteen times greater than that of humans. Which you’d know if you’d simply read the manual.” Garak sighed and fashioned Julian’s badge onto his chest, which was now heaving. Garak tapped the badge. “Medical, this is Garak. Dr. Bashir needs an emergency transport to sickbay. Please treat him for acute capsaicin poisoning.” He watched as Julian was beamed away, looked around his empty room, and set off for sickbay – the long way around.

Chapter Text

Garak ran through all the things Julian might say to him, and came up with a careful, diplomatic rebuttal to each, filing them away for future use.

But he wasn’t expecting this – Julian, lying on his side, facing away from the door, quietly breathing. For a moment, an irrational fear overcame him. “Julian,” he said, and when the other was silent, he rushed to his lover’s side, heart pounding. Love made one a hostage to fate – and he hated it.

Julian was trying very hard not to cry, but he was alive, and he seemed otherwise healthy and hale, and Garak breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s alright,” Garak soothed, rounding the biobed, but Julian just shifted onto his other side.

And of all the things Garak had expected, Julian’s silence was not one of them.

“Does it still hurt?” Garak asked.

Julian shook his head.

“Please talk to me, beloved,” Garak pleaded.

“What do you want me to say?” Julian spat the words like venom. “I’m the smartest person on this godforsaken station, I’m augmented with super strength and enhanced intelligence. A sprinkling of superhuman hand-eye coordination thrown in, for good mix. And I was so stupid that I didn’t read the manual on your biology, and now I’ve ruined everything and-”

“Julian,” Garak interrupted. “Take a nice, deep breath.”

Julian, in lieu of doing so, just sobbed and started to shake.

“May I tell you the biggest mistake you’ve been making lately?” Garak asked, gently laying a hand on Julian’s shoulder. The other didn’t flinch away, which Garak counted as progress.

“Go ahead,” Julian whispered, sounding incredibly defeated.

“You don’t trust me.” At Julian’s incredulous look, Garak held up his hands. “Now. I haven’t given anyone much reason to do so since I was a much younger man. It’s understandable. I wanted to start off on a different foot with you. ‘Plain, simple Garak.’ Maybe that was my mistake. Maybe I should have come right out and said it – all the things you suspected from the start. That I was a member of the Obsidian Order. That I’ve done some horrible things, both during the Occupation and after.”

Garak took a deep, steadying breath. “But you were kind to me, Julian. You indulged me in my passions for literature and cuisine. I don’t think there’s a single restaurant on the Promenade we haven’t tried together. I fell in love with you, slowly and then all at once. One day, I woke up, and I said to myself, ‘I’m in love with Dr. Julian Bashir, and I have been for as long as I can remember.’ And against all odds, you felt the same way. But you don’t trust it. And you don’t trust me. I can feel it. Anyone with eyes can see it. All I’m asking is – trust me. Let me take care of you. Allow me to cherish you. Please.” Garak knelt before the biobed, wishing Julian would turn back towards him.

He rested his hands on the edge of the bed, laid his head down briefly, and when he lifted his gaze once more, Julian was on his back, staring at him.

“I’m sorry,” Julian breathed, and it was Garak’s turn to be shocked into silence, a heart-rending silence during which Julian collected his thoughts. “You’re right.”

And Garak, who had rehearsed many versions of this conversation in his mind, just shook his head. He hadn’t been prepared to hear ‘I’m sorry’ – let alone, ‘you’re right.’ He’d been gearing up for a fight – Julian accusing him, perhaps, of setting this up as part of an elaborate scheme to poison him – and indeed Garak had a small speech prepared for that occasion – but now, he was speechless.

“I want what you’re offering. Very much so,” Julian pressed on. Somewhere in the distance, equipment beeped. “I’d also very much like not to be having this conversation in my own sickbed.”

Garak laughed a little at that, and ran his fingers along Julian’s forehead, feeling the smoothness of it: the alien nakedness, the flat unbroken plain of it; and the way his hair was so soft.

“What are you doing?” Julian asked.

And Garak didn’t have a good answer to that, either. It was simple instinct, pure and primal, to reach out to Julian, to touch him, to hold him, to comfort him. “I – I don’t know. I was simply overcome by the urge to stroke your hair,” Garak confessed. He withdrew into himself a little, and they sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment.

“You didn’t have to stop,” Julian said, almost like a peace offering.

Garak hummed out his agreement but didn’t resume his previous ministrations. “Have you been discharged yet?”

“Well, the discharge documents are taking longer than I personally find acceptable, and if I were acting as the Chief Medical Officer, I might just have something to say about it,” Julian said, making sure his voice carried. “But I’m tired. And I’m just a patient at the moment, unfortunately.” Garak was about to ask if Julian wanted him to do something about it when a young nurse appeared in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Dr. Bashir. There was a computer glitch and-”

“Have you told Chief O’Brien?” Julian asked, instantly slipping into his professional self.

“No, but-”

“I recommend you do so. There have been a lot of computer glitches in this room in particular lately. Especially during your shifts. I expect you to tell the Chief that this is a high-priority repair, and I expect you to take more initiative in the future, Ensign.”

“Of course, Dr. Bashir,” said the nurse, who Garak would have pitied if he weren’t enjoying seeing Julian chastising the poor man so much. The nurse handed a PADD to Julian for his thumbprint, which Julian supplied willingly enough. “You’re free to go,” said the nurse.

“Finally,” Julian said, and as they were walking away arm in arm, Garak gently steering Julian in the direct of the younger man’s quarters, hoping the other wouldn’t notice they were going in the wrong direction, he couldn’t help but lie his head on Julian’s shoulder.

“Are you always that mean to new nurses?”

“He’s incompetent!” Julian protested, then stopped dead in his tracks. “You’re walking me home.” He sounded disappointed.

“I think you need a night to clear your head,” Garak said softly. “Please don’t take it personally.”

“You could always stay with me,” Julian said, allowing Garak to prod him along, although he slowed his pace significantly.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Julian’s shoulders slumped. “May I have a kiss goodnight, at least?”

“As lovely as that sounds,” Garak said, trying to broach the subject as delicately as possibly, “I’m afraid that I didn’t get a chance to brush my teeth after dinner. I was in rather a rush, as you might imagine. And I’d hate for-”

“Say no more,” Julian said, sounding slightly strained, dropping Garak’s arm as they came to the door to his quarters.

“Give me your hand,” Garak instructed.

Julian, wide-eyed, complied, and Garak leaned down slowly, never breaking eye contact, to press his lips to Julian’s palm, then curled the other’s fingers around the spot. He lingered for a long moment before he rose, still cradling Julian’s hand in his own.

“Goodnight, my dear Julian,” he said.

“Goodnight, Garak,” Julian said, and ducked into his quarters, the door hissing shut behind him.

Garak lingered in the hall for a moment before making his way back to his own quarters, which seemed emptier in Julian’s absence than ever before.

Chapter Text

In troubled dreams, Julian tried to find Garak to no avail. One moment, he was walking down empty corridors, the next, he was in the holodeck, with his best friend. Wind was breaking in his hair, and he struggled to hear Miles over the haunting sound of sirens approaching as the waves broke at the bottom of the cliff, far below.

“Do you love him?” Miles asked.

“Of course,” Julian confirmed. “Miles, if this is because Garak is a Cardassian-”

“What? You’d be disappointed in me?”

“Well, yes! It’s a very-”

“Xenophobic attitude,” Miles and Julian said in unison, as if they’d had this conversation a dozen times before and would have it a hundred more.

The sirens were growing closer, the waves were crashing with furious intensity, and it was beginning to drizzle.

“Push me,” Julian said to Miles.

“What?” Miles asked, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

“This is a dream, and I need to wake up,” Julian explained, pacing closer to the edge. “Go on. Push me.”

“Why don’t you just jump?”

“Dream logic,” Julian sighed. “I’ve tried it a thousand times. Turns out I can fly, or I just sort of hover there, like that stupid bird in those films you’ve been showing Molly.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Miles, I’m sure,” Julian said, exasperated, but when he turned around, Miles O’Brien wasn’t there any longer.

“But are you certain?” asked Garak, who had taken his friend’s place, voice sultry, eyes wide and innocent like they always were when Garak was trying to keep a secret.

“Garak,” Julian breathed. He licked his lips. From behind his back, Garak produced a red rose, and pinned it to his lapel. “What are you doing?”

“Teaching you a lesson,” Garak replied, standing back from the edge and holding his hands behind his back.

“I don’t understand,” Julian lamented. He took a few steps back. His heels were just brushing the edge of the cliff.

“No, but maybe one day, you will,” Garak said, suddenly too close. He reached for Julian, hands roving over his chest before settling on one place, palms pressed on either side of his sternum.

“Garak, I-” Julian’s gaze faltered, and Miles was standing before him once more.

The blaring of sirens was almost unspeakably loud now. Miles shouted to be heard over the vehicles, racing towards some wreckage. “You’re going to lose him if you-”

And that was when Julian’s alarm finally penetrated the fugue, and he awoke with a start.

His heart was still racing. He had perfect recall of the dream, and for some reason he couldn’t quite explain, it felt more like prophecy than the predawn ramblings of his mind.

~

“So, what did I say next?” Miles asked.

“I don’t know. I woke up,” Julian said, sulking harder into the dregs of his drink. “I was hoping you could…”

“What?” Miles asked.

“I don’t know,” Julian said, shrugging. “Finish your sentence, maybe?”

Miles looked vaguely affronted. “Julian, how am I supposed to know what your subconscious is telling you?”

Julian called Quark over, but the Ferengi shrugged. “I’m sorry, Doctor. But I’m going to have to cut you off.”

Julian turned to Miles, who was standing perfectly innocently behind him. “How many slips of latinum did you give him to say that?”

“Five,” said Quark with a self-satisfied smile. “Meaning another drink can be yours for just seven slips.”

“You are incorrigibly greedy,” Leeta said as she passed.

“That’s a compliment in my language, you know,” Quark called out after her, then turned back to Miles and Julian, the latter of whom was now sulking into an empty glass. “My advice to you is to go home. Sober up. And think.”

“Do you have any better advice?” Julian slurred.

“Yes,” Quark admitted. “But you know what they say. ‘There’s no harm in giving away good advice for free. But never settle for any less than three slips of latinum for better advice.’”

“No one says that,” Miles protested.

But Julian was already rummaging in his pocket for the slips of latinum. He laid out six on the table.

“Someone has double vision,” Quark said, raising his eyebrows. “If I were a lesser man, I wouldn’t be doing this,” he said, and slid half the slips back to Julian.

“No,” the doctor insisted. “Give me your best advice,” he said, adding the rest of the latinum back to the pile.”

Quark leaned forward, and began to pocket the latinum strips one by one. “You want my best advice? I’ve known Garak for a lot longer than you. And I’ve never once seen him this besotted. In lust? Too many times to count. In love, though?” Quark whistled. “That man guards his heart with his very being.” Quark paused. “But so do you, Dr. Bashir. If you want to keep Garak, you’e going to have to open up to him.”

“I’ve been trying!” Julian said, exasperated.

“Have you spoken to him?”

“Of course,” Julian said. “We’ve talked about literature and art and history and-”

“But have you asked about him? Have you asked his story? Have you asked about his youth?”

“That’s a good idea,” Julian said, standing.

“Hold on, you’re not going anywhere except back to your quarters,” Miles said.

“But Miles-” Julian whined. “Quark’s right. I’ve never asked Garak about himself. His history. His life. Not even about his houseplants.”

“His houseplants?” Quark and Miles said in unison. They glared at one another for a moment, but Julian was oblivious to their little stare-down.

“Yeah, come to think of it – he’s got dozens of them.”

“Plants bring nothing but pests,” Quark complained.

“No, but he has flowers. From Earth.”

“And the symbolism is just now dawning on you?” Quark asked, spreading his hands. Somewhere in the back, someone was calling for him.

“Now that you mention it… It is strange.” Julian looked supremely befuddled.

An unspoken agreement passed between Quark and Miles. “He’s drunk. Completely, irredeemably drunk. Chief, get him out of here before Odo has him arrested for it.” And with that, he went to attend to his business.

The rest of the night passed in a haze of reeling from corridor to corridor. Miles led him back home, but Julian kept wandering off down the wrong corridor. Something within him wanted Garak with a primal fever. Another part of him desperately wanted to sober up instantly and ask of the other all the questions now racing through his mind. He wanted to do more than just love Garak. He wanted to know him.

He said his goodbyes to Miles, who just looked at him for a long while, hesitating on the edge of Julian’s corridors. “Are you waiting for me to tuck you in or something?” Miles asked, but the jovial look on his face fell away when he saw Julian’s response.

“Garak does, sometimes.”

Miles shifted uncomfortably at the entrance to Julian’s quarters. “You must really like him.”

“Oh, I do. He’s just great. He’s amazing. Simply the best,” Julian said between yawns before flopping down onto his bed.

Miles let himself into Julian’s apartment against his better judgement. “Where do you keep your hypospray?”

“Which one?” Julian asked, only belatedly realizing his mistake.

“The one you’re going to want when you wake up with a hangover tomorrow morning,” Miles said, slowly.

“Oh, yeah. That one. It’s… Um… With the others. I’ll get it,” he said, but only succeeded in twisting the sheets around his ankles, and would have likely had fallen out of bed if Miles hadn’t been there, preventing him from going much further with only minimal effort. Julian was weaker than a kitten, and Miles took pity on him and pulled the covers over his friend.

“Julian. I’m not about to judge you,” he said, once Julian was secure in his bed.

“It’s highly unethical-” Julian hedged.

“Be that as it may,” Miles said. “If you don’t tell me where it is, I’m going to leave, and you won’t be thanking either of us in the morning.”

“Third one from the left. Second row,” Julian relented. “In the bathroom. Behind the mirror.”

Miles retrieved it in short order, trying not to count just how many miscellaneous pieces of dubiously legal medical equipment Julian had in the compartment behind the mirror.

“There you go,” he said, setting the spray down on the bedside table. “Sleep well.” He dimmed the lights manually on his way out, leaving Julian to lament his life choices alone.

Chapter Text

The next day, Julian awoke in such a state that he spilled out of bed in a graceless tangle of limbs. Groaning, he reached for the hypospray Miles had so thoughtfully laid out for him, and placed it against his neck, the sweet relief of his own personal cocktail of anti-inflammatory, anti-nausea, headache-reducing medicines rushing through him upon release.

He desperately wanted a raktajino, but he needed the bathroom first. The sight of himself in the mirror caused him to flinch. “Computer, lower lights by seventy percent.” The computer complied, and everything dimmed – just enough light to see by, but not enough for the mirror to reflect the disheveled state he’d fallen into.

The revelation came to him as he was washing his face. Last night came rushing back to him in a tumble of memories, and he pressed his hand to his head.

He made a mental note to thank Miles, then reached for a PADD to put in for three days of leave.

Julian sighed. “Raktajino. Hot. Sweet,” he specified. The replicator must have been having a good day, because it had put whipped cream on his beverage. “Huh. That’s never happened before…. Miles,” he concluded, smiling.

He fiddled with the replicator for a moment. “Roses. Two dozen,” he said, and instantly regretted not specifying that they be thornless as a deluge of roses flung itself at him.

After he’d retrieved and returned the dermal regenerator to and from his regular medkit – not the one behind the mirror, and God, did Julian owe Miles – he set off in the direction of the Defiant.

He found Chief O’Brien buried in a veritable mountain of wires, cables, scanners, and self-sealing stem-bolts.

“Here. Take three roses,” Julian said.

“Julian,” Miles said in the manner of someone who was on the very verge of losing his patience. “Are you still drunk?”

“No, no. I am one hundred percent sober,” Julian assured him, much in the manner of someone who was lying to themselves and everyone around them, despite the fact that there was no falsehood to be found in his words.

“You don’t sound it,” Miles complained. “And why are you offering me roses? I thought you had a crush on Garak.”

“Because, I don’t think you’d ever play the holos with me again if I offered them to Keiko myself. And to be honest, I replicated two dozen but then I remembered that twenty-four is an unlucky number in Cardassian mythology, and well, twenty-one is better for both of us. It’s a Fibonacci number, after all.”

“So is three,” Miles protested.

“Yeah, but twenty-one is bigger,” Julian said, only belatedly realizing how petty and childish that sounded.

Miles stood. “Julian. I’m beginning to suspect that Garak is a nothing more than a cradle-robber.”

“I’m thirty-three,” Julian said, crossing his arms. “And a half,” he added.

“Are you even hearing yourself? You’re an overgrown child,” said Miles.

“I prefer the term ‘childlike spirit,’” Julian joked.

“And why are you wearing a suit?” Miles asked, lowering himself down amongst the chaos once more.

“Not only a suit. My best suit.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Miles said. It was evident that what was already a limited reserve of patience was running out.

“Because,” Julian said. “It suits me.”

And Miles, who had had enough, sighed and said, slowly, “Julian. Get out of here and go talk to Garak before Odo needs to be called.”

“What does Odo have to do with anything?”

“Well, I’m sure he’d have something to say if I started lobbing self-sealing stem-bolts at your stupid face.”

“Ah,” said Julian, backing away slowly. “I see.” He paused, then selected three of the choicest blooms and set them on the floor between them like a peace offering.

He turned to go, but Miles called out, “Julian, wait.”

And Julian, who had been expecting just such a turn of events, stopped once more in his tracks.

“Thank you. I’m sure that Keiko will love the flowers.” The Chief seemed reluctant to say them, but the words still rang with genuine gratitude.  

“No, it’s me who should be thanking you,” said Julian, lingering for just a moment before going on his way, taking the long and meandering path through the upper pylons towards Garak’s quarters, then taking the turbolift the rest of the way.

He straightened out his suit and hid the bouquet of roses behind his back before going to ring the bell, but he’d forgotten that Garak had imprinted his biometric data so that the door would open to either of them, so he just stood there, hovering at the entryway, one hand at an awkward angle behind his back.  

Garak was seated on the divan, doing a bit of hemming, or at least what looked like hemming to Julian. “Ah, my dear doctor. Tell me. What can I do for you?”

“Tell me about your houseplants,” Julian said. “I mean-” He didn’t know exactly what he meant, so he thrust the bouquet of roses towards Garak, who had stood to look at him with concern painted across his features. “I mean that I’m ready. To listen.”

“Come with me,” Garak said, approaching Julian before taking him by the hand. A couple passed them in the corridor, one of the women Bajoran; the other human, and both smiled at Garak, who very pleasantly waved back. The door to his quarters slid shut, and Garak dropped his hand and accepted the roses with an inscrutable look.

Garak was silent for a long moment as he replicated a vase full of water, fingers flying across the control panel. “You see,” he began, “the Bajoran plants are to filter the air. They’re excellent at it, and my respiratory system requires a slightly different balance of oxygen and nitrogen. It’s a matter of a few tenths of a percent, but I do like my creature comforts in my own quarters. Ah, and the Cardassian plants all bear fruit, or otherwise provide fragrant, favorable herbs. Ah, here. A very mild weed, a little like dill,” Garak said, handing Julian a sprig. “Taste.”

Julian, who had never been fond of dill, brought the weed to his lips and gave it a tentative sniff. “And the flowers?”

When Garak looked at him, his eyes were open wide – wider than Julian had ever seen them, almost as if the Cardassian were surprised, an emotion Julian had only ever seen the other act out. Never before had he seen such genuine confusion and uncertainty in Garak’s eyes. “I thought that was self-evident. I grew them for you,” he said, softly.

“Why?” Julian asked, gesturing to the garden surrounding them. It was a little like he’d always imagined paradise to be. “Why go to all these lengths, and never even give me a single bloom?”

“My dear Julian,” Garak said, smiling. “You forget that we are from different worlds. On Cardassia, we don’t give one another cut flowers. We bring our lovers plants.”

“But-”

Garak held up his hand. “I suppose I’m not being very transparent, am I? All I’m trying to say is that I hoped you would one day make a home here. With me. And when you did, I wanted you to see all the beauty your world has to hold.”

Julian drew in a sharp intake of breath. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Well, if I am, I’m not doing a very good job.” Garak chuckled. “But if I were to ask… Would you say ‘yes?’”

“Garak, you could ask me to marry me right now and I’d say ‘yes.’” He turned in a slow circle, taking in the scents and sights of the plants – the ripening fruit, the creeping vines, the blossoms and the buds, all of them verdant and blooming with fragrance.

And when he turned back around, Garak was on both knees, and Julian would later swear that his hearted stopped in that moment.

“Julian-”

“Garak,” Julian acknowledged, eyes brimming with tears.

“I– I don’t have a ring, and I know this is all very sudden. But I’ve never loved anyone more than I love you in this moment. Will you marry me?”

And Julian found his hands shaking, his knees giving out as he knelt in front of Garak, their legs brushing together. “Yes. God, yes. But I have one condition.”

“Anything,” Garak breathed.

“I want to know you. All of you. I want you to tell me everything.”

“I can do that,” Garak said, resting his forehead briefly against Julian’s before claiming his lips in a passionate kiss that lingered until they were both breathless, hearts pounding.

And the rest of the night was spent under the covers, sharing stories, cradling each other close as Julian bombarded Garak with all the questions he’d ever wanted to know, until there were no more secrets between them, until Garak had spilled everything that could possibly be said in one night, until they were both laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“I wish I’d told you sooner,” Garak murmured, lips against Julian’s temple.

“What?”

“Everything,” Garak said, holding Julian tighter. “I want to be known by you,” he said, quietly. “But I was and remain ashamed of who I was and what I’d done.” He turned away, and when Julian guided his gaze back to his own, Garak’s eyes were filled with tears.

“I love you, no matter who you were. Or what you did. I love you for who you’ve become.”

“My dear Julian. You must understand that I’ve only become the person I am today – through knowing you. You showed me that the galaxy is full of possibility. I saw the universe through your eyes, and I found it beautiful. You’ve changed me, moved me, made me a better man. None of that was me. It was all you.”

Julian smiled softly. “I’m better off for having known you too. You taught me how to be honest with myself. To accept my augmentation. To live in the light, rather than to linger in the shadows. That was all you, Garak.”

“I’m glad,” Garak said, nuzzling into Julian’s neck.

“I’ve kept you up all night,” Julian said, startling a bit at the sound of Garak’s alarm. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I wouldn’t have traded this time with you for the world. However,” Garak began, trying and failing to disentangle himself from Julian, “I told that lovely Klingon fellow visiting Worf that I’d have his armor polished by this morning, and there’s that Lieutenant who lives on one of the upper pylons who is getting married soon and their garment is very intricate, you know, and then I promised I’d show Dax my inventory of-”

“Stay with me,” Julian whispered, reaching for Garak the instant the other managed to free himself. “Sleep a while.”

“As tempting as that sounds…” Garak’s words faltered when Julian’s face fell. “You know, I was – I mean, I am – a good tailor. But that was never where my heart truly lies.”

“What would you rather be doing?”

“It hardly matters,” Garak deflected.

“Tell me anyway.”

Garak closed his eyes, and held up his hands. “I always wanted to do something with my hands. I got that much, at least. But… I wanted to be a farmer. Cardassia hasn’t had farmers in a hundred years, though. Not the way Bajor does. Or even Earth. It’s all automated. Drones and bots do a better job, anyway. My proclivities were considered… Uncivilized, by the standards of my world. I was always playing in the dirt as a boy. I lost count of how many times my father beat me for it. I didn’t mind.” Garak shrugged, the falsely nonchalant motion of someone who had never quite processed their anger, someone who was still pretending that it didn’t matter when it very much did.

Garak drew in a deep, shaky breath. “But one day, I went too far. I had collected seeds from the flowers that grew wild at the edge of our town, and I’d planted a wildflower garden on our property.” Garak rolled his shoulder. “The day he discovered it, he decided to teach me a lesson! He beat me so hard he broke my arm, but what hurt even more was that he never called me his son after that day. He wouldn’t acknowledge that he was my father until very moments before he died.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Julian whispered.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Garak breathed. “All that matters is that you listened.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay here and rest a while?”

Garak couldn’t help but smile at Julian shy smile. “Ah, my dear doctor. What can I say? You’ve convinced me.”

Chapter Text

Julian was half-undressed and almost completely undone by the time Garak lifted himself off of Julian and asked, one final time, “Are you certain, my love?”

The question barely penetrated the haze of lust Julian was operating under. He’d been waiting ages for this moment with his new fiancé.

A simple band of an exotic metal that was found on only one moon in the furthest reaches of the Beta Quadrant, carved with a blessing in Kardasi, the ridges appearing dusted in gold, the black material seeming to shine with stars of its own, now adorned his finger.

Garak had a similar such band, on his left wrist, just loose enough not to cut off his circulation.

“How are you going to take it off?” Julian had asked upon seeing Garak wearing it.

“I’m not. It’s a promise,” Garak had said, simply, as if that explained everything. He looked at his other wrist, which was still bare. “Although I must confess I very much look forward to adding our wedding band.” And then he’d tutted. “Do I truly need to buy you a wedding ring? Your engagement ring is already so beautiful. And the wedding wristlet isn’t traditionally made with a clasp, but I could fashion yours so that you could take it on and off.”

Julian was drawn back into the present by Garak’s gentle hands, cradling his face. “Julian?”

“Yes?” Julian drawled. The position of Garak on his lap was deliciously unfamiliar, and he wanted more – he wanted everything.

“I asked you a question.”

“I thought you were just teasing,” Julian said. “Yes, I’m sure. Of course, I’m sure.”

“You weren’t, the first few times we tried this. And I want you to want this as much as I want you. I want you to be ready.” Garak ran his finger along Julian’s collarbone.

“I’m very ready,” Julian said, shivering at the touch.

Their gazes met. Garak seemed to find whatever it was he was looking for in the depths of Julian’s eyes. “I love you, Julian,” Garak said, as he slipped the other’s shirt all the way off. Julian was now lying propped up against a mountain of pillows, in only his boxers, Garak shifting slightly in his lap.

“Please,” Julian breathed. He hadn’t been this desperate for someone to take him, to touch him, since he was a teenager.

“It’s okay,” Garak soothed, swinging his leg over so he was kneeling beside Julian. “Let me take care of you. Lift your hips.”

Julian complied, turning away as Garak slid off the last garment between him and his lover.

“Look at me,” Garak said, and though his voice was gentle, it was clear he wasn’t going to accept anything less than complete obedience.

Julian turned back to his lover, blushing profusely.

“You’re beautiful,” Garak said, smiling sensuously. “There’s no need to be shy. I love you,” he reminded the other.

And Julian, who wasn’t used to be treated like a prince, flushed an even deeper shade of crimson and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Julian,” Garak said, an edge of warning in his voice.

“Please,” Julian begged, voice breaking. His eyes flew open when Garak’s hands found their way to his hips. Now, the other truly was teasing him, lips just inches from his cock, warm breath brushing against his stomach, fingers brushing dangerously close to where he needed them most.

“Please what?” Garak said, clearly taking great pleasure in being an insufferable tease.

“Suck me, fuck me; anything,” Julian said. “I’ve waited so long for this – I want you so bad.”

“I have one condition,” Garak said.

Julian groaned, long and low, as Garak, who seemingly wasn’t opposed to playing dirty now that he’d ascertained Julian’s surety and received his explicit consent, pressed a barely-there kiss to the head of Julian’s cock. “Anything,” Julian agreed, resting his head back.

“Stay with me. I want you to watch. I want you to see everything. I want to show you how much I need you right now. How badly I want your pleasure.”

“Fuck,” Julian cursed. “Yes. Yes, anything,” he repeated.

“Good,” said Garak, and then began in earnest, though too slow for Julian’s liking. The other began by taking a deep breath of him, something that had Julian blushing once more and almost made him break his oath, but he managed to keep watching as Garak started to pepper sweet kisses along his length.

“Garak,” Julian groaned.

“Patience, beloved. Let me take care of you.” He grinned. “I want to take my time with you,” he said, taking Julian in hand and beginning to tease him with long, lazy strokes that were so much lighter than what he wanted. “I want to savor you.”

At that, Julian whined.

Garak smiled up at him, tongue darting out for a quick taste. “Yes, just like that. Don’t hold back. I have a theory that the walls aren’t as soundproof as they’re made out to be.” He took Julian in his mouth and hummed, both for the other’s pleasure and at the strange but not unpleasant taste of Julian. It was an alien sensation, but Garak was a quick study and soon learned exactly what Julian liked, what made him call out and what had him gathering fistfuls of the sheets, what had him writhing under Garak’s ministrations and what would take him just close enough to the edge, without going over.

He had Julian panting under him, and just as it seemed the other was about to come, Garak pulled away and stared up at Julian.

“Why did you stop?” His lover protested.

Garak’s brow furrowed. “I want you to see your face,” he admitted, taking Julian in hand once more. “And I wanted to tell you how perfect you are for me.”

And Julian, who was already utterly wrecked, keened and breathed, “Yes. More. Please. Tell me more. Tell me how good I was for you,” he pleaded.

“You were, Julian,” Garak said, adding in a little twist of the wrist. “So good. Always so good for me. Always so perfect. And you’re so lovely. Just beautiful.”

Julian cried out and bucked his hips to meet Garak’s every motion. “Fuck, yes. Yes. Mhmm, I’m so close,” he babbled.

“That’s right. Come for me. My Julian.” Garak was looking at him with singular intensity – as if he’d just got done hanging the stars in the sky, as if he were the most precious thing in the entire universe – and Julian could not look away.

“Yours,” Julian agreed, feverishly. “Always,” he gasped out as he came, spilling into Garak’s waiting hand. His eyes slipped shut, but when he opened them a few moments later, Garak was still looking at him in much the same manner. “I read the manual,” he said after a while of this, and he watched as the look fell off Garak’s face, first his smile faltering, then his eyes welling up.

“I thought you wanted it to be a surprise,” Garak said, turning away.

“I did,” Julian admitted. “But what I wanted more than anything – was to be able to keep you safe. I realized I couldn’t be your doctor, or your lover, if I didn’t know you.” Julian reached out to Garak, who was studying his hands, still sticky and slick. “What do you say we take a sonic shower, and I can show you everything I learned?”

Garak laughed. “Oh, my dear Julian. You have much to learn about the pleasures of the flesh if you think I even own a sonic shower.”

 “Then how-” Julian frowned, and Garak took the opportunity to kiss it off his lips.

“What do you think people used to shower with before the invention of the sonic shower?”

“I know what water is,” Julian protested.

“Ah, but you haven’t lived until you’ve luxuriated in a warm bath, perfumed with the finest oils and softened with salts, dotted with scattered petals-”

And while Garak had been distracted by his vision of just such a bath, he didn’t notice Julian sliding down his body until there were hands on his hips.

“That sounds delightful,” Julian said, “but I’d like to return the favor first.”

It was Garak’s turn to flush, and Julian noticed it now, a deeper grey at the peaks of the ridges, and he wished he’d read the manual ages ago. “It truly isn’t necessary-”

“Do you want me?” Julian asked.

“More than I’ve wanted anyone in a long time,” Garak said.

Julian grinned. “Are you certain?” He said, only half-teasingly. The rest of him wanted to ascertain that Garak was ready to share this with him, to secure the same enthusiastic consent Garak had needed from him.

Garak smiled back. “I am quite certain,” he assured his lover.

“Good,” Julian said, breath ghosting over Garak’s stomach as he kissed his way lower, at turns licking and sucking at the tender flesh of Garak’s chuva, prompting a litany of moans.  

“Tell me what you need,” Julian said.

“I thought you read the manual,” Garak huffed out.

“I did. But I want to hear it from you. I want to hear you come undone.”

Garak let out a shaky breath. “Put your fingers inside me. Start with two,” he said, as Julian parted his legs with infinite gentleness, marveling at the way Garak’s scales were already glistening. Julian ran one finger along the length of the slit, but when this did not elicit any praise or pleasure from Garak, he took his middle and forefinger and gently, oh-so-gently, slid them in, just a little. This had Garak groaning and squirming, so Julian decided to tease him – pulling his fingers almost all the way out before sliding them back in. “Julian,” Garak said, sounding wrecked. “I’m not sure how much longer I can control myself if you keep doing that,” he warned.

“Isn’t that the point?” Julian asked, leaning down to place a tender kiss on Garak’s chuva. “Go ahead; bloom for me.”

And Garak, who had longed to do just that since the beginning of the evening, was helpless but to comply as Julian’s fingers slid out of him, his length following with an obscenely slick sound as it came to rest against his scales.

“Beautiful,” Julian breathed, unprepared for the sudden rush of filthy thoughts that entered his mind at the sight. “One day, I want you to bend me over and fuck me with that,” he said, voice sultry. Garak groaned at the mere thought. “But I meant what I said. Right now, I want to watch you come undone. I want to render you incapable of coherent thought, and I want my name on your lips when you come.”

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you that you have a dirty mind,” Garak said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the effect hardly lasted, as he was soon reduced to a mewling, writhing livewire of pleasure – all the niceties of civilized life falling away in the face of his need. He clenched his hands into fists and cursed, both in Kardasi and in Julian’s tongue.

“And I didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth,” Julian teased.

Garak could feel himself spiraling up towards his climax, which was approaching faster than he’d anticipated. In that moment, he was possessed by his wanting, incapable of doing anything else to describe his need to Julian other than making low, guttural sounds in the back of his throat – but, oh, Julian knew, and kept building it within him, kept pleasuring him with all the youthful enthusiasm he could muster. It was overwhelming. He tensed, feeling like he was about to climax but yearning to linger on the edge just a little longer.

“Julian,” he whispered, unable to hold the other’s gaze for long. Everything else was lost in a haze of pleasure.

“Come for me, Garak,” Julian breathed, but Garak just tensed further, arching his back and trying to squirm away. “I know you want to,” Julian said. “It’s okay; I’m right here. You can let go.” Garak’s eyes screwed shut. He was hovering right there, right on the verge edge of coming, and Julian was doing everything right – pushing all those little buttons he hadn’t knew he had until tonight, and it was so hard to hold on to some semblance of control. Then Julian leaned in close and whispered, “I’m with you,” and Garak flew apart, his orgasm racing through him as he made a noise halfway between a sob and a shout.

“Julian,” he murmured, one hand stroking the other’s hair.

“I love you,” Julian said.

“Oh, I love you, too,” Garak said, pulling Julian close to his chest. “You are infinitely precious to me, Julian. Never forget that.”

Julian nuzzled Garak’s neck, burrowing down into the covers.

“Now, now. I promised you I’d draw you a nice, relaxing bath. And I’m a man of my word,” said Garak. “Or at least, I am when I’m with you.”

Julian’s eyes fluttered open, and he saw that Garak was watching him in that peculiar way of his. “Good,” he said, pouring every ounce of conviction into that one word. “Please don’t lie to me, if you can help it,” he added in a whisper, unable to hold Garak’s gaze.

“Not even a single white lie? To spare your feelings if, say, you ask me about your fashion choices?”

That elicited a laugh from Julian, who protested, “I have an impeccable fashion sense!”

“My dear doctor, your standard-issue Starfleet uniform is very becoming indeed. And never let it be said of me that I don’t love a man in a uniform! However, when I see you in anything else, for some reason, I become utterly possessed by the urge to take it off of you.”

“Oh?” Julian said, running his hand over the bare expanse of Garak’s chest. “Is that so?”

“Indeed,” Garak said, with more gravity than the situation required; yet the light in his eyes was so bright that Julian could not look away.

“I love you, Garak,” Julian said, and the words, they tasted so sweet.

“Oh Julian,” Garak said, voice soft, touch infinitely gentle as he caressed Julian’s cheek with the back of his hand. “You can’t possibly love me,” he said, voice cracking in the middle, “as much as I love you.”

“Thank you,” Julian said.

“Whatever for?” Garak asked. Julian studied the way his brow furrowed. He wanted to commit these moments to memory – all of them, in every last vivid, exquisite detail. How wonderful it was, to have found a love worth waiting a lifetime for, the kind straight out of a holonovel or a fairytale.

And Julian pressed a tender kiss to Garak’s temple before drawing back and whispering, “Thank you, for loving me the way you do.”

Garak offered his hand to his lover as he rose from their comfortable little nest, already running through which tinctures and salts and bath oils and perfumes he wished to add to their water. “With pleasure, my dear Julian.”