#necking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

danktrektho · 2 years

Text

5 times Julian Bashir said “Oh Garak I could just kiss you” + 1 time he actually did

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39486180 pairing: garashir word count: 4034 rating: T+ fic under the cut

At the replimat, Julian and Garak are at their usual table. Julian is assuming his usual pose for such an occasion: leaning in, elbows on the table, hands clasped together in the air, wrists tilted so as not to obstruct his companion’s face, and smiling broadly. He laughs loud and scoffs louder, and Garak can��t help but think if his eyelids were a little bit lower, this would be a date. But it’s not, and he can’t get caught up in such fantasies.

Julian takes a bite of food, he’s already mostly finished. He has a longer lunch break than he usually makes use of, mostly because he’s called away on emergency, but also because he is a bit of a workaholic. He’ll sometimes talk through his food, trying to hide it in his cheek like a hamster, or he’ll talk too soon after swallowing and his voice comes out deeper and choppy. This time is one of the latter.

“I’m sorry if I'm a bit distracted, I’ve been working on a vaccine for a disease from the gamma quadrant. So far it’s only jumped species to a type of ferengi beetle, but that means the ferengi are all the more at risk of catching it.”

“That’s quite alright doctor, your love for your work is commendable.” Julian looks down quickly and smiles shyly. Garak notices a slight flushing in his cheeks and he is captivated by it. Human skin seems so plain to a cardassian and he relishes the opportunity to see it color. He tampers down on the impulse to flare his nostrils. Suddenly he feels like leaning in, too.

“Thank you for saying so.” Another shy smile, this time with teeth. He sets down his fork. “But I don’t feel very commendable today.” He takes another bite of food. Garak remembers he is supposed to be eating. “I’m stuck on something, like a bad hang-nail.”

“Hang nail?” Garak inquires. He sips his red leaf tea demurely.

“Oh, it’s like… sometimes humans break a nail before it grows out, and when it does it can get caught on things and tear. It’s quite painful.” Julian takes a gulp of his tea.

“Oh, you humans and your keratin. It’s the toughest part of your body, yet it’s still quite weak.” Garak hides his smile by bringing his cup to his lips.

“Keratin… Oh Garak, I could just kiss you!” Julian says, throwing his napkin down on top of his plate.

His scales flush. “What?” he sputters. Julian picks up his plate and walks swiftly to the reclimator, swinging around their table like he’s doing a gravity-assist around the moon. “You just gave me a great Idea. I have to work while I’ve got the inspiration. I’m sorry to cut this lunch short, we’ll resume our discussion later.” He says, and then his long legs take him out of the replimat and swiftly to the infirmary.

Garak is left blinking in surprise. He shakes his head and drinks his tea.

Some weeks later, Garak has almost forgotten about that entire incident when Julian walks into his shop, rubbing his hands together in a nervous fidget.

“Doctor,” he says with a slight smile, tilting his head. Bearing his neck, and he doesn’t even think about it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

If this were his fantasy, Julian would say something romantic here. Or maybe not. Garak thinks that’s not really his style.

Julian smiles, like Garak’s comment has sucked all the nervous energy from his shoulders, and he stands at ease. “I know you're busy,” He looks around, and the store is empty. Garak gestures about the room and gives him a look that says ‘really now?’ and Julian flushes ever so slightly in embarrassment. “But I’m afraid I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Really? And what does this favor entail?”

“I need to recover a file. One from during the occupation.” He steps further into the shop, pacing as he talks. “You see, a virus has recently jumped hosts from cardassians to bajorans, and i’m afraid nobody knows how to treat it; except of course the Cardassians.” “And you want me to help you recover this file?” “Precisely.” he nods.

“You’re not worried about letting a Cardassian onto your computer system?”

Julian titters. “And what would you find? Medical files? If I had my way, every species would share their medical knowledge. No, I have nothing to hide.” and he smiles as if that’s true about everything in his life. But it’s not. Nobody can know about his genetic enhancement. He hides his whole self behind that open smile, and Garak believes it. Everything about Julian screams ‘I wear my heart on my sleeve’ from his boundless enthusiasm to his shining ideals to his expressive voice and deep brown eyes.

“I suppose I can close my shop for a few minutes.”

“You think it won’t take very long?”

Garak indulges in a smile, one that shows his pride over his talents. “No, my dear.” The word doctor is conspicuously absent from that sentence, but Julian doesn’t notice.

“Great!” he says, smiling enthusiastically. The walk to the infirmary is short, and nobody spares a glance at the handsome couple they make.

The computer interface is easily accessible and Garak’s fingers glide over the blue buttons, working so quickly and fluidly that Julian has a hard time following his inputs. Instead he looks at Garak’s face, which holds a stare of concentration, and a slight smirk of satisfaction. He pulls away from the computer and smiles in a reserved manner. The smile makes his eye ridges quirk up and makes Julian’s stomach do a flip.

“It’s done. Before you ask, I knew which disease you were talking about. You’d be surprised what things a tailor can pick up.” Julian beams at him, and Garak’s world tilts off-kilter. “Oh Garak, I could just kiss you!” he says, and he flies over to the desk to take a look at the file. Garak clears his throat.

The walk back to his shop is hard, because a part of him wants to stay there and see if the doctor actually will. When he gets back to work, his thoughts are distracted, and he pricks himself with a sewing needle. It doesn’t hurt, mind you, the needle is so small, but Garak briefly entertains the idea of going to the infirmary for it. He shakes his head. It’s funny that for a man who hates going to the doctor so much, he’s fallen for one.

This time months have passed and Garak has put the whole thing out of his mind, it’s safer that way. Julian walks into his shop looking elegant like a bird. “Ah, doctor! I’m afraid your piece won’t be ready for a few days yet.” Julians shoulders slump. “That’s actually what I came to talk to you about. I’ll need the suit sooner than that. I’ve ah, got a date with a holosuite.” Garak quirks an eyeridge up. “Surely a man of your stature can land dates with non-holographic women.” Julian smiles, clearly flustered. A voice that sounds like Tain admonishes Garak for the fondness overtaking him. “I’m, uh, actually going on a date with a man.” He says, testing the waters. He doesn’t know how cardassians feel about homosexuality, and even if he did he wouldn’t know how Garak feels about it.

Garak’s nostrils flare and his neck straightens out. “Well.” He clears his throat. “Shall I make him a suit too?” Julian chuckles nervously. “You’d have to ask him, I suppose. I’m not in charge of dressing him.” Julian looks down at his shoes. He rocks on his toes.

“Ah but I am in charge of dressing you, my dear doctor. I’ll shift my focus to your suit and have it ready to pick up tomorrow.” Julian smiles, and it takes up his face like a crack in a facade, looking as sincere as it is small.

“Oh Garak, I could just kiss you.” He says softly, before he even realizes it. Garak is treated to the sight of a true flush of his cheeks. Julian clears his throat. “I mean, thank you.” He nods like he’s confirming a decision to himself and it’s final. “I, ah, appreciate it.”

Garak is frozen in place, held by some invisible force, and their eye contact sends electricity through the air. Garak is the first to break away from it. Julian looks down at his shoes again. When Garak speaks, it’s from a voice rough with disuse. “It’s no trouble at all.” He says. Anything for you is implied.

Julian smiles, as if to stable a wobbly lip. “I’ll see you tomorrow” he says, and walks out, limbs buzzing.

The next day, something’s off. Garak can smell it in the air. He dons his yellow tunic ensemble with matching shoes, and keys into the station’s security network, as he does on his more paranoid days. He takes the pieces Odo has gathered and places them together with insight Odo can’t match. There’s going to be an attempt on Julian’s life today.

He walks from his quarters in the habitat ring casually as if it’s a regular day. He gets on the turbolift and rides it down to the promenade, but instead of turning directly into his shop he walks past the replimat and into station security.

He and Odo are friends but Garak suspects he never likes someone unexpectedly showing up in front of his desk. Odo is suitably disgruntled when he greets Garak and asks him why he’s there.

Garak leans in conspiratorially. “I have reason to suspect that an attempt will be made on Dr. Bashir’s life.”

Odo straightens up, in an imitation of a natural way he’s seen others straighten to attention, but his movements do not follow from bone and sinew and are too fluid. This does not bother Garak and has not bothered him for a long time. He wonders when he let his guard down.

“Well that’s very serious.” Garak inclines his head. “I knew you would see it that way,” he says, almost-smiling.

Odo looks like this information bothers him. He furrows his loosely formed brow in consternation. “What do you base this speculation on, exactly?”

“As you know, recently a former colleague of Bashir’s escaped from a federation penal colony. There has also been a rise in illegal cosmetic surgeries– Illegal because, if i am not mistaken, they do not perform background checks nor do they afford proper caution in order to complete the surgeries quickly. Recovery time takes about a day, or else you won’t recover. And finally, Bashir has a date today, with a man.” Odo scoffs. “That’s hardly enough information to work off of, and I’m curious as to how you acquired it.” “I like to keep informed about current events, constable.”

He scoffs again.

“So, what will you do with this information?”

The constable looks flatly at Garak. “There’s nothing I can do. Any precaution taken would be an invasion of Dr. Bashir’s privacy, something the federation evidently cares a lot about.”

Garak and Odo share a moment of not-quite scorn at the way the federation goes about justice.

“I understand.”

“Now Garak, I don’t want you taking this into your own hands. I’ll keep a close watch on Bashir if it makes you feel better.”

Garak’s eyes gleam. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” he says, and they both know that Garak will anyway, and that Odo won’t stop him, but even changelings can enjoy pretense, so he settles into his chair– melts into it, really– and resumes reading from his padd as Garak takes his leave of the room.

Garak’s shoulders do not slump, he does not sigh, he does not clench a fist or flare his nostrils. No, nobody can tell how disappointed he is just from looking at him. He looks the picture of casual, although his reputation means nobody will treat him as such. It’s a short walk to Quark’s, which is a good place to gather intel on visitors to the station. He’ll have to get back to work at some point though, as Julian’s trousers sit unhemmed on his worktable.

He sits at the bar, which is somewhat empty, but Morn’s there, providing a sense of normalcy as he chats with another patron.

Quark steps up to Garak like a batter would step up to home plate, though he wouldn’t understand that reference even if you told him what it meant. He’s cleaning a glass but it’s already spotless and Garak can tell he’s just doing it to keep his hands busy. “Let me guess, a glass of kanar?”

“Rokassa juice.” Garak counters. Quark looks almost offended.

“Coming right up.” he says with deference.

After a moment he sets the juice down in front of Garak, and then plants his hands on the edge of the bar and leans in. “So why are you really here?” He whispers. He’s never been good at whispering to aliens, who can’t hear his voice at a natural whisper; and so his whisper sounds quite loud in the morning atmosphere of the bar.

As Garak answers, Quark's face forms a smug smile, glad that his assumption was correct. “I want to know who has the holosuite reservation with Doctor Bashir.”

Quark pulls back. “Well.” he says with grandeur. “I can’t just give out that information. It’s private!” Garak sighs exasperatedly and hands him a slip of latinum.

“Only a slip?” Quark complains. Garak just nods. “I was surprised it was a young human man, considering which program they chose. His name was Da-veh or something like that. Dayffe?”

“Last name?” Garak asks. “Appearance?”

“Let me look… Dave Jackson. He had red hair and a beard, and stood as tall as Bashir's shoulder.”

Garak smiles. It unsettles Quark. “Thank you for your assistance.” he says.

Quark looks a little self-conscious when he says “Don’t mention it.”

Garak drinks his rokassa juice as he scans the bar and dabo tables for anyone of that description. There is no one, and not about to go on a wild goose-chase he finishes his drink and goes back to his shop to work on the suit. He sews a bug into the seam, feels bad about it, and damages it’s power supply so it will only last a day.

It’s ready and in fine shape when Julian walks in to pick it up. He strolls in with a confident ease, one you wouldn’t know was meticulously practiced.

“Here’s your suit, freshly finished. Would you like to try it on before you leave?”

Julian tilts his head and Garak tries and fails to not look at his neck. “Yes, I would.” Garak hands over the clothes and Julian goes into a dressing room. The pants are creased fashionably in the front and flared out a bit at the ankle to swish when dancing and call to mind starfleet uniforms of the 2260s. The bowtie sits nicely on his collar bone and the pleats in the shirt make the outfit look nice without the sports coat. The sports coat, on the other hand, is the right length and style, but the arms are too wide. Julian doesnt notice it. He steps out of the changing room smiling. “It looks great Garak!”

Garak tuts. “The seam needs to come in a bit more on the arms. Step up there and hold still.” he says, gesturing to the tailoring block. Julian does so and Garak takes out his supplies. His fingers brush at Julian’s wrists chastely when he takes the seams in, and Garak feels proud of his work. The suit had been so finely fitted that it seemed to a tailor’s eye to stake a claim on the wearer, that someone had known his body intimately enough to tailor a garment specifically to his needs, and had done so with great effort and care. It was more effort, he realized, than he had ever put into a garment before. Julian’s smile was dazzling.

“I swear, you always make me look stunning!” Julian gushes.

“I’m just glad you like it my dear doctor.”

“I do, Garak, I mean it.” Julian says sincerely and with conviction, as if he owed Garak some amount of sincerity and was making up for it in pieces.

Garak smiles a thin-lipped smile. “How much do I owe you?”

“Consider it a gift.”

Bashir flummoxes. “Nonsense, you worked hard and I should pay you for it.”

“I insist.” He says gently, no real urgency to it.

“Well I insist on paying you for it.”

“It is simply a pleasure to see you out of that uniform for once.” he says chidingly.

Bashir rolls his eyes. “Oh, very well, but I will pay you back for this somehow.”

“Oh I have no doubt you will.” Garak says, eyes glinting with mischief. That earns him another genuine smile.

“I have to go, my lunch break is almost over.” Julian says, turning to leave.

“Doctor,” he calls. Julian turns around confused. “Don’t leave your uniform here, or I might be tempted to change it.”

Julian laughs, and picks up his uniform to get changed back. Garak hands him a bag to put his suit in and he walks off with a spring in his step.

Garak puts his listening device in his ear near the end of Bashir’s shift and goes to Quark’s bar. Dave is already there, at a table in the back looking around suspiciously. Bashir walks in looking like a million bucks. He spots Dave, and he spots Garak too. He gives him a little wave and then goes over to Dave. Garak can hear them greet each other. “You look gorgeous.” Dave says, and he sounds like he means it.

“Oh, this old thing?” Julian jokes. Dave laughs right on cue.

Julian holds out his hand and Dave takes it, and he’s up on his feet walking with Julian to the bar. “We have a reservation for a holosuite.” Dave says in his Australian accent.

Quark gives them the holoprogram and they shuffle awkwardly up the spiral staircase. When the holoprogram starts, Garak can hear the crashing of waves onto crystal-white sand. Steel drums break through the sound of wind and Julian is laughing at some joke. Suddenly he feels very aloof here, eavesdropping on his friend’s date.

The holoprogram is of a fine glass table for two on the beach, with rose petals and music and drinks and oysters. They’re re-enacting a book Julian’s never read. “Can we turn the safeties off?” Dave asks, and Garak’s about to bolt up there when he says “I’d like to catch a tan.”

“You know,” the doctor admonishes, “UV rays can cause quite uncomfortable skin cancer. Computer, safety off.”

“I once dated a doctor. He mentioned meeting you, actually.”

“Oh? I’m quite fond of my colleagues.”

Dave’s eyes darken as Julian goes to take a sip of wine and suddenly Garak has overridden the lock and pushed through the doors. In his surprise, Julian spills wine down the front of his new white shirt. He looks very upset.

“Garak, look what you’ve done. You’ve ruined my new suit.”

“It’s stain resistant. Look out!” Dave pulls a gun from under the table. Julian has enough warning to move out of the way when he fires, and he takes Dave’s surprise to wrestle him to the ground and knock the gun from his hands.

“Why are you trying to kill me?” Julian says angrily.

“Because you didn’t stick up for me! When you were called as a witness to my hearing, you didn’t show up!”

“What are you talking about?” he says gruffly. “I only met you three days ago!”

“I’m Doctor Brandon frederick. Does that ring a bell?”

Before he can answer, Odo comes into the room and shouts “What’s going on here?!”

Julian looks peeved. “He tried to kill me!”

“Computer, end program.” Garak says, not unhelpfully. The gun disappears. Odo takes “Dave” to a holding cell.

Julian wipes at his clothes, although there’s no longer sand sticking to them. “You saved my life.” Julian says to Garak, breathing hard.

“Well I couldn’t let you bleed all over that fantastic suit now could I?”

Julian laughs, it starts small and then gets louder and lasts a while. “Oh Garak,” Julian says, gasping for air. Garak braces himself for the words he knows will follow. “I could almost kiss you.” Julian says, shaking his head fondly.

“Well. Let’s put this whole mess behind us, shall we?” he says, gesturing to the arch.

After the truth gets out about Julian’s augment scandal, Garak thinks he could use a bit of cheering up, so he sets up a prank on Quark, in full view of the seat he’s picked for them to eat dinner together.

Quark screams in terror as he opens his crate of beetles to find them shifting in crazy colors, some strange liquid pooling out of their mouths. “My beetlesnuff!” he cries. Julian looks at Garak incredulously.

“Did you replace Quark’s beetles with my test subjects I had in stasis?”

Garak smiles. “Oh, Someone must’ve.”

He chuckles. “Oh. Garak, you’re brilliant. I could kiss you.”

Garak looks at him in a way that says “Then do it” But Julian isn’t looking at him, he’s looking at quark, and slapping his knee. So Garak’s gaze shifts to a fond one and he enjoys the fruits of his labor.

They’re back at the replimat. Their usual table was left vacant as everyone seems to know to expect them there. They’re arguing about Shakespeare again.

“I know Romeo and Juliet are foolish lovers, that’s the point!” Julian says. He’s working up an attractive flush in his face as the argument’s getting heated.

“Yet human works I’ve read seem to treat it as a template for love stories.”

“I haven't given you any romance books Garak, and subplots are not representative of the quality of main plots.”

“Ah and there’s the problem. Humans have whole books dedicated to love. Why, not a single cardassi book is not dedicated to the state.”

Julian smiles sardonically. “Really? Not a single one?”

Garak nods his head with a smug smile.

Julian stands up from the table. “You are so– infuriating! I could just–”

“Kiss me?” Garak finishes for him. Julian looks caught off guard. “Then why don’t you?”

Julian crosses over to his side, grabs Garak by his shirt collar, and pulls him up. He stalks off and Garak follows him, and when they turn the corner Julian is on him, kissing him roughly as if he’ll never be able to again. Between kisses Garak says “We should– ah– go somewhere– else.” Julian nips at Garak’s aural ridge. “My thoughts exactly.” Then he runs his hand down Garak’s arm and links fingers with him in a way that makes his nostrils flare and his neck ridges darken. Julian pulls Garak along to his own quarters and they move past Kukalaka and into the bedroom where Garak realizes that Julian had been preparing for this with the warmer temperature in the room, that he had been wanting this perhaps as long as he had wanted Julian. They’re necking on the bed, which feels absolutely exquisite to Garak, but Julian keeps breaking away to talk.

“I never let myself want this,” he says, “Because I knew I couldn’t lie to you. And if we saw each other every day, came together in this way, then you would know.” He resumes his ministrations and after Garak doesn’t reply he adds, “Or worse you wouldn’t know. And I would want you to know.”

Garak just holds his hand tightly and doesn’t let go. He doesn’t tell Julian how privileged he feels to know anything about him at all. He doesn’t voice how impressed he was with Julian’s ability to keep up the lie. He doesn’t admit that he’s wanted this since that first day in the replimat. He just enjoys it, and that’s the most selfish thing he’s ever done.

22 notes · View notes