Archive of Our Own

i. just sitting on the shelf

Dr. Julian Bashir walked into Garak's Clothiers with the simple, straightforward intention of picking up his newly hemmed trousers.

He always ordered the "extra long" uniform slacks from the replicator, but he'd long suspected that whoever set the dimensions might not have been schooled in human anatomy. "Long" was about three inches too short, and "extra long" dragged on the ground. Thankfully, he was friends with a tailor. 

He only ever asked for the length to be altered, but Garak was obviously throwing in some other modifications on the house. They always fit better overall once Garak was done with them. Technically, any modifications to the fit made him officially "out of uniform," but Garak had a subtle hand. 

It was a quick errand, in and out. He expected Garak would hold him up in conversation for a bit, maybe confirm their holosuite plans for tomorrow night - hopefully not cancel, because Miles was on a mini-break with Keiko and he didn't have anyone else to play it with.

What he didn't expect was to see Garak lacing a tall, elegant Betazoid woman into a corset. 

It was hardly improper - she was wearing a loose sort of sundress underneath, and it appeared she was only here for a fitting, since the colors didn't match. 

"Oh, that's gorgeous!" she enthused as he finished off the laces in a neat bow. "I can't believe how comfortable it is."

"I told you. The replicated ones might as well be torture devices," said Garak airily. "Oh - hello, Doctor! You're here for your pants, I suppose."

"If it's not too much trouble," said Julian. "I wouldn't want to pull you away from your lovely client."

"Nonsense. It'll only be a moment." Garak reached under the counter. 

"You must be the CMO!" the woman said, extending her hand to Julian. "It's so nice to meet you. I'm only passing through here, but a friend of mine mentioned that Mr. Garak makes some beautiful bespoke pieces. I just had to stop by. What do you think? Obviously this isn't the right outfit for it, but if you use your imagination…"

Julian was trying very hard not to. Even with his mental enhancements, it was hard to keep a Betazoid out of your head entirely. She knew what the corset did for her figure, but she wanted confirmation - whether verbal or nonverbal.

"Very nice," said Julian. "I think it suits you. But then I've always appreciated the laced-up look. Perhaps I'm biased."

"Yes, perhaps you are," she said with a sly little smile. 

"Here you are, Doctor," Garak cut in, handing him a little package tied up neatly with teal ribbon. Garak's genuine love of pleasing aesthetics was one of the more charming things about him, Julian had always thought. He took a minute to admire a new suit on display in one of the alcoves, and Garak went back to his client. 

"Now, it is more comfortable than you're used to, but don't be tempted to overdo it, dear. Six hours at a time, at the most until your body gets used to it. And never sleep in it, no matter how tempting. It's not about the tightness, as long as you keep it like this - it's about the posture you'll need to hold. You're likely to have a little soreness at first. But if you have any bruising or lingering pain under your arms or at your hips, that likely means you're not holding your posture as well as you think. The edges shouldn't be digging into you."

The woman nodded avidly, still admiring herself in the mirror.

"It's not just a fashion accessory - it's essentially a functional back brace as well, and you do need to remember that. You'll need someone to help you get in and out of it at first, but it's very possible to learn to do it on your own. You can use a pillow as a mannequin to practice tightening and loosening the laces, and once you can do it easily, flip it around and try to do it blind. Once you've got that down, it's simply a matter of being flexible enough to reach behind your back."

Julian was rapt, watching their conversation. The woman paid (and a nice sum indeed, he had to note), removed the corset with Garak's assistance, and left happily.

Garak turned to him, finally, a faint smile on his face. "What's so fascinating, Doctor? I thought for sure you would follow her out."

" You , Garak. Where did you learn all of that?"

He shrugged. "You pick up all sorts of skills in the tailoring business. Corsetry is a specialized art, but anyone who can sew could apply themselves to learning it."

"You know a lot about it, too. The posture and all that." Julian had noticed on many occasions that Garak stood with his back not completely straight, as one expects from someone with military training, but slightly arched, shoulders back. He had always taken it to be an affectation, but after noticing the difference in the Betazoid woman's posture with and without the corset…

"It's important for people to know how to wear it correctly," said Garak lightly. "Now, did you need something else from me, Doctor?"

He could just ask. Garak was often surprisingly honest about mundane things like this. 

Do you ever wear a corset, Garak?

Are you wearing one right now?

Instead, he said "no, sorry. I didn't mean to keep you."

"It's fine, Doctor. I never consider your presence and imposition, you know that."

He watched Garak walk to the back of the shop, graceful as always, and his back always held in that perfect curve…

No. He wasn't going to keep thinking about this. 

ii. dirty thoughts

He kept thinking about it. 

Now that the idea was in his head, it wouldn't leave. He had noticed a certain stiffness under Garak's tunics when he'd touched him before, but he had always assumed it to be some kind of body armor or thermal layer. Hell, maybe it was. The question was: did it lace up the back ?

He'd always liked corsets. The look of them, the…vibe, he supposed. Equal parts formal and suggestive. He'd always been under the impression they were rather uncomfortable to wear, and a few aborted experiments he'd done for himself with replicated costume versions confirmed that theory. So it wasn't something he'd ever asked a partner to wear for him - not that he was in the habit of doing that anyway. 

But Garak's corsets, it seemed, were different. 

When Julian couldn't sleep, his mind wandered. Images of Garak, all laced up the back. Asking very matter-of-factly for his help to loosen it, Julian, trying so hard to keep his hands steady, his breathing steady, but Garak knew somehow, Garak would always know, looking over his shoulder with a sly smile. "Do you need help with something now, Doctor?" And he'd try to say no, shake his head, shift his hips out of reach so that questing hands wouldn't find him shamefully hard and desperate, but he wouldn't, he'd be frozen, and Garak, his movements now so much more languid and fluid without the corset, on his knees, and -

It never went much further than that. It never needed to. 

This wasn't the first time his Cardassian friend had found his way into Julian's fantasies, of course. Garak had a way of getting into your subconscious, and it hadn't been that long after their first meeting when the memory of that day with Tahna Los came to Julian unbidden during the sort of leisurely self-pleasuring session that often allows one's mind to wander. It was real spy intrigue, the kind that still made him quiver with excitement to think about, and Garak had invited him into it. He remembered the intensity of Garak's eyes as he leaned in close (so blue!), the way his breath smelled (faintly of mulling spices), and the tension positively cracking in the air -

And that was how Julian found himself blindly wiping a copious faceful of his own jizz on the pillowcase, wondering exactly when this psychosexual obsession with spycraft had gotten away from him.

Because it was definitely just about the spycraft. 

And he kept on telling himself that every time Garak slid into his fantasies. He was the interplanetary man of mystery. It was about what he represented, not what he was. Because what he was …

Well, he was a good friend. A man with a deeply troubled past, with the ability to do great harm, and Machiavellian values that didn't match his generous personality. A series of contradictions layered into a person that somehow, Julian had simply grown to care about - very much. 

He would not risk his friendship with Garak for anything. Especially not sex.

iii. that's alright, alright with me

Of course, it would come up again at the worst possible time.

Julian was sitting in a cave on an unknown M Class planet, waiting for someone to pick up the distress signal from the comm unit in their crashed Dominion ship. 

Miles and Nog had been working non-stop, and now that the repairs were complete, they were both passed out in the bedrolls on the opposite side of the cave. Not too far away from them, Jadzia had sunk into a feverish sleep, with Captain Sisko finally succumbing to his fatigue and slumping over against the rock she lay on, still keeping vigil over his oldest and dearest friend. 

Keevan the Vorta was still under the weather, but even so, they had him in a pair of emergency Starfleet cuffs on both his wrists and ankles, trussed up in the other corner of the cave, waiting to be taken back as a hostage. Julian had tried to make him more comfortable, but he refused. And now he seemed to be sleeping, or whatever it was Vorta did. Garak had set up a sort of proximity alarm near him, with salvaged parts from the ship, just in case.

Before his secret got out, Julian would have pretended to sleep and simply kept a solitary watch. But now there was no need to pretend. Sisko had assured him he could sleep, in fact he should , but Julian couldn't shut off his brain. 

Garak was awake too, and Julian could hear him rustling around behind a large rock that blocked him from view. With the way the sounds echoed in this cave, Julian didn't think it wise to try and talk to him too much, although everyone else was probably sleeping deeply enough that it didn't matter. 

"Doctor?" He spoke very softly. 

"Yes, Garak?"

"Could you assist me with something?"

Julian jumped to his feet and padded over to the shadowy corner where Garak sat. 

For a moment he thought he must be dreaming. He shook his head vigorously, but the vision remained. 

"I seem to have tweaked my shoulder a bit in the accident. Just some help loosening the laces, if you could."

It's a fucking corset. He's wearing a fucking -

"Of course," said Julian quickly, aware that he'd been too quiet for too long. He sat down behind Garak and untied the bottom of the laces, his surgeon's instincts allowing him to snap into action while his brain was still reeling. 

It was plain - utilitarian. None of the decorations or accents that Julian had seen on his other pieces. Somehow, that made it even worse. He doesn't think it's sexy. It's just something he wears.  

As the laces began to loosen, Garak rolled his shoulders and sighed a little in pleasure.

Julian felt the blood rush to his cock. It had been - well, too long. There was a war on. But that was no excuse. 

After what felt like an eternity of gradually loosening the damp laces, bit by bit, yet somehow also felt like it took no time at all - Garak spoke. 

"Thank you, Shu'lian ."

Julian had set his UT to skip over certain familiar words, his own name being one of them. He liked hearing it in people's natural accents. Garak had first called him that in the Dominion camp, after Tain died. It had made his chest ache, and he'd wrapped his arm around the Cardassian in the cot they sometimes shared, holding him until he fell asleep. 

He definitely hadn't been wearing the corset then, Julian realized. Did he forgo it entirely for the trip to follow Tain's signal, or had he taken it off and stashed it somewhere? 

Julian swallowed thickly. "Uh, you're welcome."

Garak was unhooking it from the front now, and finally pulling it off completely. He sighed again and bowed forward, stretching - Julian picked up the corset and held it almost reverently. 

"Can I…"

"Spread it out to dry, if you would, Shu'lian . Yes." His voice was a little muffled.

"That's a yoga pose on Earth," Julian said, absently. " Balasana . Child's pose."

"Fascinating," said Garak, straightening up. "Is everyone still asleep?"

"Uhm-hmm." Julian was still touching the corset, laid out on the rock. He jerked his hand back when he realized Garak was watching him. "Yes. They're - yes. Dead asleep."

Garak stood up and stripped off his trousers, laying them out on the rock as well. 

Julian was not looking. 

It was funny, almost. Why did it feel like a violation now, when he'd been the one to undress Garak and change him into his infirmary gown when the wire was killing him, when they'd been pushed into communal sonic showers in the Dominion camp together? 

It was different. They were different. 

Thanks to the augmentations, he was more or less able to control his body's reactions to stimuli. It had served him well in adolescence, but it wasn't without its downsides. It made him antsy, irritable, just generally a pill to be around when he did it too much.

"Hang on. I'll get you a blanket," he said. Because if he didn't, he wasn't going to be able to stop himself from suggesting something else to keep warm. This was hardly the time. 

Garak took the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. In the firelight, he looked…

Well. It didn't matter how he looked. 

He sat down again, leaning against the rock, and Julian felt himself doing the same, magnetically drawn until their shoulders pressed together, until Julian felt the bowstring-tight muscles in his neck start to loosen a little, and he let his head loll to the side and slot into the space on Garak's shoulder that he already knew fit him perfectly. 

"I'm glad you're here," Julian murmured. 

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Garak's exhale brushed his forehead. "It's a good thing I've made myself indispensable to your Captain."

Julian laughed softly, then sighed. "He's running you into the ground."

"He's doing exactly what he needs to do to win this war. And so am I."

"So are all of us. But you're not Starfleet. It's entirely too easy for you to be exploited."

"Not under your watchful eye, Doctor."

Julian made a discontented little noise. "We're back to that now?"

"I thought you liked it."

"I do…" He squirmed a little, shifting over onto one hip. "You know, for a long time I wasn't sure you even knew my name."

Garak scoffed. "I knew your name before you arrived on the station."

"Of course you did." Julian's hand inched over to his, and their fingers lightly intertwined. "Well, I knew of you. Your name was hardly the most interesting part of your mythos."

Garak chuckled, low in his throat. “If you say so, my dear doctor.”

***

Julian woke up with a start, to the sound of Miles' voice calling from around the large rock. "You decent?"

"Of course!" he rasped before he'd even fully opened his eyes. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"More or less," came a voice just inches from his ear. 

It took him a moment to realize he was still slumped over on Garak.

"Martok will be here to beam us out in an hour," Miles said, walking around to toss them each a ration bar. "Make sure he actually eats that," he said to Garak, not seeming particularly phased by the fact that the Cardassian was primarily wearing only a blanket, now around his waist. 

"I make no promises, Chief."

Miles grumbled something under his breath that even Julian couldn't understand, and went back to the rest of the group. 

Julian straightened up and tore into his ration bar without any enthusiasm. Garak was getting dressed, and he didn't dare watch too closely. It was only after he looked up and noticed the other man deftly tightening the laces behind his back that Julian's brain stuttered. 

"Shoulder feeling better?" he asked suspiciously. 

"Hmm," said Garak, pulling on his undershirt. "Finish your breakfast. I don't need the Chief at my throat today."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say something. But he didn’t.

iv. perhaps, perhaps, perhaps

At what cost?

That was all Julian could think, looking out over the area of the promenade that had been cleared and blocked off for dancing. 

It was the single concession the Clan of Martok had made to human wedding traditions. Julian, for his part, had gone and changed into his tuxedo from the absurdly heavy kal'Hyah robes he had worn for the ceremony, and so far no one had dared to say a word to him about it. He probably should have gone for his dress uniform if he was going to change at all, but he was simply out of fucks to give. 

We did it. We took back the station.

But at what cost?

"We really should have coordinated our outfits, Doctor."

Julian let his gaze slide over to Garak, who had appeared at his side. The Cardassian wore an outfit of deep maroon with gold brocade - stunning, Julian's mind supplied helpfully, as if the tailor didn't already know. 

"I think we complement each other quite well," Julian said. 

"Well. Black goes with everything," said Garak. "But if I'd known you were going to break this old thing out of storage, I would have made you something for the occasion."

Julian almost said something, almost made a jab about didn't Garak have somewhere better to be, someone to dance with? But then he looked at the empty chair between them and stopped himself. 

He stood up. "Come on, Mr. Garak. I'm sure they taught you the waltz at Cardassian finishing school."

Julian extended his hand. To his mild surprise, Garak simply took it without comment. 

Out of habit, Julian found himself leading. One hand on Garak's waist, feeling the curious stiffness of the stays underneath his suit. He pushed aside the mental images from the cave. Not now. Not now . 

"You don't have to do this, Doctor." Garak's face was placid, unreadable. 

" Do shut up, Garak."

The tailor laughed. 

They spun around the dance floor, weaving amongst the crowd, and Julian was surprised - then realized he shouldn't be, because of course Garak could follow perfectly in a dance, of course he was reading every minute signal, every push, every turn, every nudge. 

Garak kept his eyes fixed on his partner's face. "Now that we're back, we should take advantage of the amenities. I've missed the holosuites."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that." Julian grinned. 

"We should give that pirate one another try!" Garak suggested with a glint in his eyes. 

"Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"Because, Garak! You refuse to play it properly!"

"It's not my fault if the characterization is inconsistent. I can't compromise my vision simply to 'advance the plot.'*

"The plot is the whole point . If you don't leave the ship then the game stalls out completely."

"Doctor, it's absurd! Anyone with a modicum of critical thinking skills can see that Calico Jack is acting extremely suspicious. Why would I leave with him?"

"It's not about what you would do, it's about what Blackbeard would do. Do you understand the basic concept of playing a role?"

"Evidently not. I still think you should have that friend of yours reprogram the storyline so it makes sense."

"And I told you Felix has better things to do. You're impossible."

Garak sighed elaborately.

The song was almost over.

They slowed, but did not entirely stop, as the music faded away. Each of them waiting for the other to let go. 

The sharp notes of a trumpet cut through the room. Julian recognized it as a modernized version of the prelude to an old tango, Quizás quizás quizás , and he wondered if Garak would balk at the intimacy of the dance. 

He slid his hand around to Garak's lower back and pulled him closer, slotting one leg between his thighs. 

You won't admit you love me

And so

How am I ever

To know?

Julian guided him forward in a series of long, quick strides. Garak either knew the basics of the tango already, or he was simply a very quick study. The swivel of the hips took him a little longer to understand than the footwork, but he got it soon enough. 

You only tell me

Perhaps

Perhaps

Perhaps

The singer of this particular version infused the words with a sardonic tinge that gave the song an edge of something else alongside its playful, lightly seductive tone. Impatience? Annoyance? Maybe he was just projecting. 

They hadn't really attracted much attention before, but this time he could feel eyes on them. Several couples had left the dance floor, and others were simply gyrating in their own invented choreographies - no one else was attempting what they were. 

Tonight, they owned the dance floor. 

So if you really love me

Say yes

But if you don't, dear

Confess

"Doctor, I am impressed." Garak leaned in closer, turning his head to the side so their noses didn't bump. "You don't miss a step, do you?"

"Neither do you." Julian smiled indulgently. "I'm going to dip you now."

"Oh, if you must." 

"If I must ?" Julian muttered, sliding his hand up to support Garak's back. The corset ( don't think about the corset! ) would keep him from bending too much, but he could work around it.

Garak leaned with him, letting Julian guide him down, down, down. "You always have to show off," he whispered, one foot hooking ever so slightly around Julian's calf for support. 

Julian was lunged so far forward that he almost had Garak horizontal. "I don't often get to show you off, though."

That earned him a wide-eyed look, and no verbal response at all. 

Julian eased him back up, and this time pulled him even closer. Garak's groin was practically pressed against his hip. 

"I don't know how I ought to feel about that," Garak murmured finally. 

"Feel good about it," said Julian. "I do."

And please don't tell me

Perhaps

Perhaps

Per…haps

v. ain't i the best you had

It was three days after the wedding that Julian finally reached his breaking point.

“You did it on purpose.” Julian’s tone was accusatory, standing in the middle of his quarters, arms folded across his chest. 

“You’ll have to be more specific,” said Garak mildly. “Have I mentioned how little I appreciate walking into an inquisition when I’ve simply been invited over for drinks? It’s unnerving.”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Julian insisted. “ You know what you did .”

“I’ve done a great many things.” Garak sat down and looked up at him. “Go on, then. What is it this time?”

Not for the first time, Julian realized that actually, openly calling him out on his bullshit would make him, Julian , sound insane. 

“You heard what I said that day in your shop,” he started, increasingly aware of how unhinged this conversation was. “To the Betazoid woman with the corset.”

“We don’t all have your enhanced memory, my dear.”

“And yet, you heard it.”

“The laced-up look? And something about how you favor it. Yes, I did hear that, unfortunately. Did you end up meeting her for drinks? She was lovely.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Julian gritted out. “Then when we crashed in the Dominion ship -”

“Ah,” said Garak carefully. His face didn’t betray any particular emotion. He picked up the bottle of kanar on the coffee table and uncorked it. “Do you mind?”

“Did you actually need my help?” Julian demanded, stepping closer. 

Garak poured himself a generous serving. “Does that actually matter?”

“Yes. It does.”

“I think what you’re asking me is whether or not I was attempting to seduce you.”

Again, a flat, neutral statement. Garak blinked at him innocently.

Julian clenched his fists at his sides. His throat felt like it wanted to close up to trap the words inside, just in case this went horribly wrong. “Were you?”

“Well, it didn’t work,” his friend said calmly. “So - no.”

“ Garak .” Julian buried his face in his hands, groaning. “What did you expect me to do ?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Doctor.” The Cardassian picked up his glass, then set it down again. It was his only concession to the frayed nerves he must be feeling, Julian knew him well enough by now to know that this conversation actually was upsetting him, no matter how good he was at hiding it. “I’m never entirely sure what to expect from you.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to fuck you in a cave with half of my coworkers and a Vorta hostage, Garak. I’m not insane .” 

“All right,” said Garak, reasonably. “And now, in the unlikely event that situation presents itself again, I’ll know.”

“You knew then. And that’s why you did it.” Julian considered sitting down, but then decided he’d rather have the higher ground. “You don’t dare give me a chance to call your bluff, so you only do these outrageous propositions in public. I invite you over for a nightcap and you act like you’ve never heard of a concept of sexual intercourse. So is it a joke at my expense? Is it just a game for you? I care about you, Elim. I thought we were past you toying with me like that.”

“ Toying with you? Is that what you think this is about?” Garak wasn’t looking at him anymore, a sure sign he was getting close to being honest. “After the camp…I really did think you understood.”

Julian swallowed thickly. Oh, he was being unfair. He knew, as much as it was possible for any non-Cardassian to know, how much it meant that he had been allowed, no, invited to witness Tain’s shri-tal . 

“That’s why it surprised me,” said Julian softly. “When you act like that, it feels as though you’re trying to hide something. Push me away from whatever’s really underneath it.”

“Whatever’s really underneath …?” Garak let out an incredulous laugh. “I’ve got nothing left underneath. You’ve seen it all. The only thing left is the one thing you still seem afraid to take. What do you think’s going to happen, Shu’lian ? Now, after everything, do you think it’ll ruin us? Do you think anything could?”

One long, endless silence stretched between them.

Fuck it.

“Are you wearing one now?” Julian asked, quietly.

Garak smiled at the floor.

“Show me,” Julian said.

Very carefully, Garak unfastened his jacket and shrugged it off. And then his tunic underneath. Julian made a decision then - to not hide his reactions, to let Garak know, because he deserved to know. As both a punishment, and a reward. 

Finally, the second-to-last layer came off, and there it was. Maybe not the same corset - probably not - but similar enough. A plain off-gray, sitting just below his pectorals. Underbust , the style was called. 

“Stand up, please.” Julian was deeply aware of his own quickened breathing, the way his blood felt hotter. “Let me look at you.”

Garak stood, chin held high. “Very peculiar of you to take such an interest in my foundational garments, I must say,” he said, in that haughty tone that he wore so well. “It certainly wasn’t my intention to inflame some kind of prurient interest when I designed myself a piece of body armor that conveniently doubles as a posture corrector. I believe humans have some version of both concepts in their culture.”

“We do,” said Julian softly. “But they don’t look like this. This is called a corset, my dear Mr. Garak. This is something people wear to feel pretty .”

Garak rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that is a vast oversimplification.”

“And yet, you went to the trouble of showing it off to me, when you knew I found such things attractive. What does that mean, Garak? Did you want me to notice you? Did you want me to think you were pretty ?”

He reached out and took Garak by the shoulder. When he felt no resistance, he slowly turned the other man around so he could look at the laces. He let his fingers trace down the back of it, and he could feel the blood rushing to his groin.

“That would be a very foolish thing to want,” said Garak, so softly that a typical human might not have heard.

“Not so foolish,” said Julian. “I think you look very pretty like this. Before the cave, I often thought about you doing exactly what you did there. Asking for my help. But then, afterwards…”

“Afterwards?”

“Never mind. You said your corsets are comfortable to wear. Is that true?”

“I can go fetch one in your size if you want to find out.”

“Another time. Does it limit your range of motion?”

“Only a little. I can’t bend at the waist and I can’t twist very far. But I can do anything else. I can bend at the hips, I can kneel, I can lie on my back. It’s not taxing. I know how to breathe into my stomach, so it doesn’t get in the way of…strenuous activity.”

“How thoroughly have you tested that?”

“Thoroughly enough. There is always room for redundant research, I feel.”

“I concur,” said Julian, his voice wrecked. He spun Garak around again and grabbed his wrist, pulling the other man’s hand in close and laying it over his rapidly stiffening cock. “There. Now I’m calling your bluff. Is this what you wanted?”

“Oh, yes,” Garak exhaled, eyes glinting. Their mouths were only inches apart, and then suddenly they weren’t.

They kissed desperately, hungrily, and Garak was backing him up towards the bed, one hand still pawing at his erection through layers of fabric and the other buried in his hair. 

“If I’d known this was all it took…” Garak murmured against his lips.

Julian stopped. The realization that had been coming on slowly suddenly crashed on him all at once, and he felt it very important to say it now, before Garak got the wrong idea.

“Elim, this isn’t about some fetish of mine,” he said, pulling back just enough that their eyes could meet. “I can control myself if it’s anyone but you .”

“That’s quite flattering of you to say.”

“It’s true. I’ve…” All those late nights, all those little thrills of excitement when Garak touched him or smiled at him or praised him for being exceptionally clever. He really had been in denial for a long time, hadn’t he? “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

“Do you ?” Garak countered, with a smile.

“I’m figuring it out,” Julian muttered. “Don’t make fun.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Garak smiled indulgently, stepping out of his trousers. 

"Lie down," Julian said. "Please."

Garak did, slowly. "You're very demanding."

"You've kept me waiting long enough," Julian insisted, which earned him an indulgent laugh from his companion.

" I have? My dear. All you had to do was say the word. Well - the phrase, I suppose."

"What phrase is that?" Julian trailed his fingertips along Garak's thighs, staring at the vision before him. Just below the bottom edge of the corset, two hipbones with another one of those oval indents in the center, situated just above where Julian suspected the pubic bone to be. And below that -

"Fuck me?" Garak suggested. "Or any variation thereof, I suppose."

"Mmm, alright." Below the indentation was a slit, slightly higher than a vulva would be, and he had seen this part before - but only ever tightly closed. Now, it bloomed open, slick and gleaming. He stroked it experimentally. "Wait, was that an example or a request?"

"Yes. Both. Either."

"Okay, then. Make room for me?"

He knew enough about Cardassian anatomy to not be surprised at what he saw next - but it was still almost painfully arousing to watch Garak's erection, wet and twitching, slither out into Julian's waiting palm. 

He squeezed, gently but firmly, and Garak hissed.

Julian hurriedly stripped out of his clothes. “I assume you know what you’re doing. I’ve never been with a Cardassian before.”

“Really, my dear? That’s quite flattering.” Garak smiled, smug.

“And you?” Julian prompted, nudging his knees apart. But with legs as long as his, the level of his groin while standing was several inches too high for a comfortable coupling like this. But this seemed like the best angle to both appreciate and take full advantage of the corset’s natural compression just above the pubic bone. “Oh, this won’t do. Hang on.” He grabbed a spare pillow. “Hips up, please? Yes, alright. That’s better. Now, answer the question.” 

“Are you asking me if I’ve been with a Cardassian before?” Garak said mildly.

“Garak, come on.” His cock nudged at the slick folds, and Garak hissed. “I just want to know if you’ve done something like this before, so I don’t hurt you.”

“I’ve done something like this ,” said Garak, maddeningly. “A little smaller than you, but I daresay the principle is the same.”

“Smaller? Really? Are you just saying that?”

“Well, what should I have said? A little bigger , is that more believable?”

“No!” Julian protested, their current activity momentarily forgotten. “I’m quite…on the sizable side of average, for a human. I’ll have you know.”

“I wouldn’t know. Now would you please -” He tilted up and slid down a bit, and that was enough to pull Julian a little deeper inside him. They both moaned.

“Fine,” Julian gritted out. He gripped Garak’s hips just below the corset. “Did you at least think about me when you did something like this ?”

“Of course I did.” Garak looked affronted at the question. “That was the point.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other. It was possibly more honest than Garak had intended to be, but at the same time it wasn’t actually new information, was it? Julian had been fixated on this man for years, and that very same man had first approached him in the replimat with a greeting that essentially meant hello, I’m all alone, none of my friends are left to judge my wanton behavior, so if you’re interested in a quickie my tailor shop is just across the promenade! See you when I see you! Even Julian, in his chronically socially confused state, had basically picked up on the thrust of it.

So to speak.

Even though Julian hadn’t known exactly why at the time, he had sensed something was off about Garak’s behavior that day. After the business with the wire, he'd thought the matter to be mostly explained away, but then he ran across some medical literature in what Tain had provided him that offered another piece of the puzzle. Apparently, a sudden drop in ambient temperature had a chance of triggering hormonal changes that were roughly equivalent to deer on Earth going into rut. In other words, after the Bajorans lowered the temperature on the station, Garak was feeling territorial and horny. And high on endorphins. So, in retrospect, it was remarkable that he managed to be so subtle.

Julian, for his part, had decided to deliberately misinterpret “enjoyable company” in the most innocent way possible, and he’d ended up gaining a very dear friend. But the fact that Garak had been so profoundly attracted to him in a moment of weakness was always… there . 

Sometimes, more than others.

This was one of those times.

Of course I did.

That was the point.

This was it. This was really it for him, this was what Garak had been wanting, had been waiting for, since the moment they met.

Well! No pressure, then.

Julian set about his task with great care. He thought he could feel the slight pressure that the corset provided by bearing down on the lower stomach, just above the pubic bone, and he hoped that made it more pleasurable. He should’ve asked if Garak wanted to take it off first, goddamn it, he should have asked - 

But Garak, for his part, just seemed to be having the time of his life. That was encouraging. And he did feel incredible, ridged and rippling and surprisingly hot inside. He made sure to say that, which earned him a wanton growl and hands clutching at his ass. 

Garak was rapidly coming undone. Julian had not thought it would be this easy, had expected there to be many more walls that needed to come down, but…the blueish-black flush on his neck, on his chest, the way his body clutched and undulated with Julian’s movements, it was lovely. It really was. 

He saw Garak’s hand go to his own erection, and he licked his lips. “Show me how,” he said. “Show me how to touch you.” Garak shuddered and did.

It was a firm grip around the base, it seemed, and a sort of gentle shifting rotation. After that, it didn’t take long at all. Garak cried out, inner muscles pulsing, and Julian thoughtfully aimed his ejaculate away from the corset. 

When Garak’s body finally relaxed, Julian stopped. He wasn’t exactly worn out yet, but most people liked to have a little break at this point.

“Gorgeous,” he said, with a little smile. “My God, Elim. Really.”

Garak shook his head. "You didn't…"

Julian leaned down and kissed him lightly. "It takes a while sometimes. I promise I'm still enjoying myself." 

"I can see that," Garak said. "I was merely making an observation."

Julian sat down on the bed beside him. "Sometimes people get offended." That was an understatement. But it was something he’d been dealing with for most of his adult life, so he had it down to a science by now. If you talked about it like it was no big deal, then people usually treated it as such.

"Well, that's silly. I can smell it on you, you know - when you're aroused. It gets stronger, sharper…can I taste you? Once I start I'm not going to want to stop."

Julian hesitated. "Of course you can, but…"

"Relax, Doctor. I'm not trying to get you off. This is pure self indulgence on my part, I assure you. Now - move over just a bit. A little further. Yes."

Julian realized he'd just been situated in front of the full-length mirror on his wall. Garak knelt between his knees, the impeccably laced corset on full display. 

"And this is your quid pro quo. Indulge me, and you can enjoy the view for as long as you can tolerate my greediness." 

"Oh," said Julian softly as he watched Garak's head dip down and felt his tongue lick a slow, fat stripe up the underside of his cock. " Oh ."

It felt gorgeous, and it looked even better. Garak was learning his body, kissing, licking, sucking, trying gamely to swallow him down, and quickly going back to more accessible ventures with visibly watering eyes and a slight heave in his stomach. Julian had to smile. 

With most of his partners, he didn't often get more than a perfunctory minute of sucking once he explained it was basically impossible for him to finish that way. He had yet to find a foolproof way to explain that he still enjoyed it very much, despite any evidence to the contrary, but Garak clearly didn't need it. The sheer bliss of performing this act was written all over his face. 

"Promise…you'll stop when you get tired," he murmured, stroking Garak's hair. "Because I can't promise you I ever will."

Garak hummed his assent around a mouthful of cock. 

At this point, he knew enough about Cardassian physiology to not be entirely surprised that Garak's jaw didn't get tired. He forcibly tore his brain away from an acute awareness of how long it had been, simply letting Garak enjoy it, as he so obviously was. Minutes upon minutes passed deliciously. 

Julian had long ago learned to enjoy the feeling of teetering on the edge of the precipice, breathing through it, only to recede back into the warm burn of pleasure with no particular end in sight. But after a few familiar cycles of this, it began to take on a sharper edge. He found himself tensing and whimpering, but Garak hardly seemed to notice, so absorbed in his task. The next few times Julian felt himself on that edge, a tingling sensation spread through his pelvis, creeping up to his chest, and did not abate. 

I should warn him, a part of his brain dimly said. 

Don't jinx it, another, more selfish part snarled.

"Mmmmmngh," he said aloud, his toes digging into the rough carpet. 

Don't think. Just feel.  

One more trip to the precipice, and he was quivering, chest heaving, no longer the calm and well-practiced veteran of these now uncharted waters. Everything in his awareness was narrowing down to a pinpoint and he could no longer predict what would happen next. 

He refocused his lust-clouded eyes on the vision in front of him, the laces across gray scales, the blue flush down strong shoulders, neck ridges flared with arousal. 

It surged in him like a tidal wave then, wild and unstoppable. He could hear the raw cry, one foot kicking out reflexively and smashing into the nightstand, cracking the cheap replicated material and sending the contents flying across the room. 

He couldn't feel the pain of it, only the ecstacy ripping through him, leaving him raw and spent, now flat on the mattress, legs sprawling. 

Garak was wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, smiling like the cat that got the cream. 

"Oh God," Julian groaned. "I'm… fuck . I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry ?" Garak stretched out delicately beside him. "Sometimes I despair of understanding human sexual customs."

"I was supposed to warn you," Julian tried to explain, his head still swimming. "I just really didn't think I was actually going to…"

"I know," said Garak. "All is forgiven, my dear. It was a surprise, certainly. But a welcome one."

"You don't look surprised," Julian groused, but he was smiling. "You went into this so sure of yourself, didn't you? Insufferable man."

"I'm insufferable! And you thought The Never Ending Sacrifice was dull."

"This again," Julian groaned. "Roll over. I can't manhandle you properly with that thing on. Range of motion or no range of motion, it's coming off."

"I'm surprised at you, Doctor. Insulting my work like that." But he rolled over onto his side and let Julian tug at the corset laces, his mouth trailing over shoulders and neck, kissing and scraping with just an edge of teeth.

"I know I said it earlier, but I need you to understand. It's not about what you wear. I want you . I…mmm, at the risk of sounding Darcyish, against my better judgment I seem to have…become...rather…"

Obsessed? Entranced? In love?

What could he possibly say that would be true without being too much, without being too little? He was starting to understand, just a bit, why Garak was so allergic to telling the plain, simple truth. 

"You think you're the Darcy in this situation?" Garak muttered peevishly.

"Well, you are wearing a corset," Julian pointed out.

"Not for long. Anyway, they didn't wear corsets in Regency England, I've made enough holosuite costumes to know that ." Garak began unhooking. 

"Of course. My apologies."

Garak sat up and laid the corset carefully over the footboard, only to be tackled back onto the mattress moments later. 

"Mmm, yeah, that's much better." Still breathless, Julian let his hands roam across the new expanse of skin and scales. "I'm…okay, I'm sorry. Hang on. Ow ."

Julian winced, sitting up and lifting his foot onto the bed. He poked experimentally at one of the metatarsals. "Shit! Okay, that's…Garak? Can you pass me my medical bag?"

"Have you hurt yourself, dear?"

"Just a hairline fracture. And it's your fault."

"I'm terribly sorry." Garak handed him the osteo-regenerator without needing to be asked. "Didn't they bother enhancing your bone density?"

Julian rolled his eyes. "You know you're the only one I allow to make those kinds of jokes about me."

"Because I'm the only one you can be sure doesn't actually care ," Garak said softly. "Would you tell me to stop if I upset you?"

"I'd slam you through the wall if you upset me."

"Oooh, now that's intriguing."

"I really don't think you want to invite that kind of attention from me. Even you don't like pain that much.'

"I shall endeavor not to inspire your wrath."

"I'm only joking, Elim. I would ask you very nicely to stop. Maybe cry a little."

"I've never seen you cry." A strange, blunt admission. Especially from someone like Garak.

"Most people haven't," said Julian, lightly. 

That seemed to surprise Garak. They were in uncharted territory now. 

"You weren't too far off," Julian went on, holding the regenerator just a little too close to his skin, feeling the sting. "When you called me a Vulcan. I guess my parents didn't really think about what happens when an unnaturally strong child gets upset with a classmate for stealing a pretty rock he found on the playground. That was the second time we had to move after my treatments ." A mirthless smile. "He was fine. My classmate. Eventually. I looked it up and made sure when I was older, because by then I'd learned I couldn't trust a thing that came out of my parents' mouths. I only broke his nose. It could have been so much worse. They didn't even think ."

Garak sat there in silence, watching him. Garak the interrogator was a good listener, who would have thought?

"I trained with a Vulcan on how to keep my emotions in check. It's not second nature to me like it is to them. And I express myself very differently, of course. But at the end of the day, that's all it is. Vulcan meditations for a little boy who was angry enough to punch a hole in the moon, and didn't understand why. Somehow, it worked."

"On Cardassia Prime, we've got three moons," said Garak after a moment. "So there's a few extra if you decide you wanted to give it a try after all."

Julian looked up brightly, setting the regenerator aside. "Is that an invitation?"

"When the war is over, I certainly hope you'll come visit. There might even be something left for you to see."

Julian swallowed thickly. "Right. I suppose there's no reason for you to stay away now."

"Plenty of reasons. None good enough."

"Elim…"

"These are all pipe dreams, Doctor. Tomorrow is a good day to die, but tonight I can pretend someday I'll take you to a hot spring in Kardasi'or and fuck you senseless. Let me have this. Don't think too much."

They kissed then, and behind them the glow of the wormhole flared in the viewport. It was very nearly romantic, and then Julian was pushing him down again and probing between his legs with questing fingers. "Why'd you put it away, love?" he murmured, caressing the seam that was now tightly closed. 

"Wasn't needed. Why is yours always out, that's the more pertinent question, isn't it?"

"I haven't exactly got a convenient place to put it. Mmm." His fingers had found a slight give, and one slipped inside. "Would you let me come inside you, if I could manage it?"

"Well. Not if you make it sound like a chore."

"You know what I mean."

"Of course I would, Shu'lian ." 

"It gets easier with practice. Eventually I'll be able to pull off a quickie in the dressing rooms of your shop like I'm sure you've been imagining for years."

"Don't be presumptuous. Maybe I imagined the quickie with me fucking you and leaving you hard and wanting."

" Oh ."

vi. unraveling

“I slept with Garak last night,” Julian muttered into his hands.

“What, for the first time?” Miles scoffed.

There was a long silence.

“Oh Jesus, really ?” Miles poked him in the shoulder. “Julian? You’re having me on.”

“I’m not,” Julian groaned, still not looking up. “I really did it.”

“Julian…I thought…” His friend took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I thought you were…I dunno, since a few years ago, at least. You’re joking, right?”

“Miles, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Garak! I thought you’d been,” Miles made a vague hand gesture, “for ages! You’re really doin’ my head in, to be honest.”

“Oh my God. Why would you think that?”

“Well! I don’t know, you’re awful close. Have been for longer than you and I have been friends, even. And you obviously…I mean, you flirt with him. He flirts with you. Constantly. I had to learn to put up with it, and that wasn’t easy, mind you, but I care about you and he’s…you know, he’s good for the war effort. So I made an effort. But you’re seriously…you’re seriously telling me that you just now got together last night ?”

“Miles, I don’t see what’s so hard to believe about that.”

“You were in prison together!”

“Well! That doesn’t mean we had sex! We were a little busy trying to escape and not die , while you lot played darts and ate canapes with a fucking changeling."

Miles artfully dodged that one. "What about on the Defiant?"

"What about on the Defiant?"

"You were bunkmates, for Chrissakes!"

"Well, who else was going to put up with him?"

"Are you saying you didn't want to bunk with him?"

"Miles, what's your point?"

“I'm just saying. Considering the obvious…you know…attraction, I would have figured. I dunno. Stop looking at me like that, you’re the one who’s sleeping with a -”

“Miles!”

“I wasn’t gonna - I was going to say ‘spy.’”

“Okay, okay. But that’s not the point. The point is…” A horrifying thought occurred to Julian. “Wait, does everyone else think we’re sleeping together too?”

“I mean…” Miles looked away. “...mostly.”

“ Mostly ?”

“I dunno, Julian, you’re gonna have to ask them.”

“Captain Sisko?” Julian whispered, horrified.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about it. But I’m sure he’s heard some of the…rumor mill.”

“I’m…I can’t deal with this, Miles. I’m going to exile myself to Vulcan like Iloja of Prim.”

“Who?”

“Never mind. Well I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it? Because apparently we are sleeping together now, so fuck it! Let everyone know all my personal business. I certainly don’t care. It’s only my life ."

***

He only had to lean on Garak's door chime for a few seconds before the entrance slid open.

A bland smile, cautious, like the tailor didn't know what to expect. He was wearing a forest-green dressing gown, and he looked smashing . 

Julian flung himself into the room and landed on the sofa in a vaguely human-shaped pile of limbs.

“Apparently, everyone on the bloody station already thinks we’ve been fucking each other silly for years. Years , Garak.”

Garak regarded him thoughtfully. "And how did you come upon this fascinating piece of information?"

"How do you think ?" Julian asked him peevishly. 

"I imagine from telling Chief O'Brien about last night. Or possibly Commander Dax. Or possibly Quark. Or…"

" Garak ."

"Am I wrong, Doctor?"

"That's not the point. I don't go around gossiping to everyone about my sex life, I only told Miles."

"No need to be defensive."

"Is that why you put me off for so long? Because you thought you'd become the talk of the rumor mill?"

"I did not put you off ." Garak sat down delicately. "If I wanted to, Doctor, I could have used you to elevate my status with Starfleet years ago, instead of waiting for a war to break out and spending days on end decoding Legate Damar's shopping lists."

"This again. Elevate your status ? What am I, a Schuyler sister?"

"I don't know why you always pretend to be surprised by everything."

"If I'd known ," said Julian with a dark flash in his eyes, "I would have taken you up on your offer on day one. No need for all this," he waved his hand vaguely, "nonsense."

"I've rather enjoyed the nonsense."

"Did you know I'm in love with you?"

Garak looked alarmed for a moment before he once again schooled his features. "You're drunk, dear."

"Okay, and?"

"You wouldn't say that otherwise."

"It would still be true," Julian insisted petulantly. 

"Come to bed, Shu'lian ."

"Finally, you're talking sense."

"To sleep ."

"Your bed's a lot bigger now."

"Yes, I know. I bought a new one years ago."

"Decadent."

"Yes, yes."

Mortifyingly, Julian heard himself start to snore, but was powerless to stop it as his head sank deeper into the pillow.

vii. private show

It was fine, really. He'd said something Garak wasn't ready to hear. He was drunk. He wouldn't make that mistake again. 

They hadn't seen each other again, other than passing nods on the promenade. It had been a week, and Julian was starting to wonder if he'd really fucked it up.

Finally, he went to the shop. 

The thing was - he'd forgotten how much he was attuned to it now. Garak's posture was so distinctive, and now he knew why, and watching him glide around his shop the same way he always did, the same way he had for years , yet now it seemed soaked in erotic promise, and Julian had to remind himself that even just thinking that in his own head sounded insane enough. He didn’t dare show a hint of it on his face.

“Can I help you, Doctor?”

Julian shut his mouth with an audible snap . “Sorry. I was just - sorry. Do you think you could - that is, are you free - can you - I think I’d like -”

“Take your time,” said Garak, placidly. 

“Dinner,” he said, finally, breathlessly. “At my place?”

“Your quarters, or Hong Kong?”

“Well, do you…” He couldn’t think of a good way to ask Garak if he was amenable to sex in the holosuites, if sex was even on the table, if…

“I think my quarters would be better,” Garak said, taking pity on him. “Since you seem to be feeling indecisive. Nineteen hundred hours? Don’t be late.”

***

He wasn’t late.

He was ten minutes early, actually, and pretended to be busy with something else in the habitat level so he wouldn’t just be pacing in front of Garak’s door. When he finally came back and rang the chime, the door opened on its own, obviously from a voice command. He stepped inside.

Garak was sitting primly on a chair at the little dining table by the viewport. Julian stood there for a long time, trying to process what he was seeing. 

The majority of Garak’s outfit was a sort of loose black linen, cinched around the neckline, the sleeves, and a bit at the cuffs of the pants. There was almost a shimmer to it, he thought - or it might have been his imagination. 

But that wasn’t what caught his eye, of course.

It wasn’t just any corset. This one was a sort of shining off-green, not forest, not teal, something between them, and it seemed to shift colors whenever it caught the light. It was gorgeous . 

He’d never seen Garak wear one over his clothes before. Never as the apparent central piece of his outfit, so shamelessly gorgeous and perfect. 

"So I suppose you're not…" He swallowed. "Angry with me, still?"

Garak half-smiled. "I was never angry with you, my dear doctor. Sit."

Julian sat. He was hardly capable of doing anything else.

"I just think we ought to enjoy the time we have together," he said. "And I don't want anything distracting us from that goal. Including any worries about…the future. Or the past. Does that make sense?"

Julian had to concede that it did.

"It doesn't mean anything more than that. I simply wish…to keep things focused on the here and now. And here, and now, I would like to have dinner with you, and then I would like to see what happens from there. I don't want to plan it out. I don't want to think about the implications, I don't want to think about anything except the way you make me feel. And I'd like to try and make you feel good again, even if it takes all night. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Julian's voice, when he found it, was faint.

"Perfectly."

viii. run bambi run bambi run

Garak had never seen him cry.

That wasn’t going to change today.

Things had been going so well . The Bolian flu was under control, the Dominion hadn’t yet escalated their attacks to levels beyond what they could handle, and Julian and Garak had…an understanding. They had been very cautious at first, but when it became obvious that no one noticed or cared, they met up three or four times a week and made up for lost time. As Julian had predicted, it wasn’t long before he began to feel more comfortable, and to Garak’s delight, they had just managed the first of what could almost properly be called a “quickie” in the changing room of his shop. Julian felt unreasonably proud of himself.

But then, Dukat. The Pah Wraiths. And everything went to hell.

Garak had never seen him cry, and that wasn’t going to change today.

Oddly enough, the thing that almost broke him was when he felt Garak’s hand on his shoulder and remembered how little he’d even bothered to be there for Garak after Ziyal died. 

Of course he'd tried. It was hard because it was Garak, but he tried. Just not enough. Did his friend even realize, beyond the perfunctory conversations and consolations, how much Julian felt her absence too? Did he ever say it, or just think it? At lunch, in the holosuites, at the wedding - the wedding, Jadzia's wedding, he'd been so irritated with Worf, with the both of them for their stupid ritual and he didn't know, he didn't know, what was the goddamn point of being a doctor if he was just going to watch everyone die around him?

Ziyal was gone. Jadzia was gone.

Dax might survive, if they were lucky. But Jadzia Dax was no more.

He jerked away from Garak’s touch. He’d never done that before. And Garak, uncharacteristically, did not try it again.

He’d been trying to pretend, ever since that night he stumbled drunkenly into Garak’s quarters, that he didn’t remember their conversation. He knew it was only a polite fiction for the both of them.

Of all the things Garak could have said, could have done, in response to what he said - ill-advised, sure, and unfair, and nothing he should have said at all, especially not during a war - the polite you’re drunk was probably the worst thing he could imagine.

Anger would have been something. An argument would have been something. Shock. Annoyance. Anything, anything, anything .

Say something. Tell me it’s stupid. Tell me it won’t work. Tell me I’m out of my mind.

But he didn’t, and he was never going to. 

After the funeral, Garak came to his quarters. Julian almost ignored the chime, almost wanted to find out if he’d dare to break in. But in the end he was weak. He let Garak into his room and into his bed. He fucked him in silence and bit hard, hard, hard as he could on the spot of his neckridge where a Cardassian lover would. Julian held him down. Julian stared into his eyes, the interrogator’s eyes, and dared him.

Garak said nothing, but his face and his body communicated what they needed to. After what felt like an impossibly long time, a climax wrenched itself out of Julian’s body and he collapsed. 

He rolled over with his face to the wall. And he didn’t cry. Or he did. If Garak didn’t see it, then did it matter which was true?

Did it matter?

ix. what is it about you that i can't erase

When he saw Ezri, he felt something.

A pull. A tug back in the direction of…normalcy? No, that wasn’t right. But something. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

She was bright and she was funny and she was Dax. He’d always liked Dax, but more importantly, Dax had liked him . And Dax remembered who he was before the war, which was something he hardly even remembered about himself. Dax remembered him before Luther Sloan got into his head. 

He was talking to Miles when he heard himself say it, loudly, like he was trying to convince himself.

I love Ezri. Passionately.

What a strange thing to say. But he was a strange guy, as Miles had told him many times. So maybe it was fine. Maybe it was fine to be strange and to announce things like that, maybe it was fine to love a symbiote and pretend you loved the host, maybe it was fine, maybe it was fine to pretend.

He still had lunch with Garak every week. They still shared the same quiet intimacy, and Julian didn’t even resent him anymore. He had been the one out of line, actually. Saying that he was in love. He didn’t even know the meaning of the word. But with Ezri, he thought - he had a chance to find out.

Garak didn’t talk about it. They never talked about it. That time in Julian’s quarters, on the night of Jadzia’s funeral - that was the last time. Had Garak realized it then? Had Julian? He wasn’t sure. 

After all - they lived in uncertain times.

x. beyond your darkness i’m your light

“Hello, Doctor.” A very soft smile, all things considered. 

“That’s all I get? Hello, Doctor ?” Julian’s mouth twitched. “I’m a Dominion War hero, you know. I think I deserve a more effusive welcoming party.”

“I’ll lodge a complaint,” said Garak, lifting his head a little, looking him over appraisingly. “You look well.”

“Starting to regret the beard. There’s hot, and then there’s hot .” The little temperature-regulating choker around his neck was working overtime already, and he knew it probably wouldn’t last long before it burned out completely. It was only meant to get him through the worst of the summer on Cardassia Prime.

The provisional government had reclaimed the Dominion headquarters after the war, since it was one of the few buildings left standing after they razed Kardasi’or. It was now one of the few places in the city that had working transporter pads, although that was likely to change now that some of their longer-term energy problems were being addressed. 

Julian had kept an eye on their progress. Garak wrote to him sometimes, and he wrote back as often as he could, though he’d spent the last three years working to contain another Dominion-engineered virus on Betazed. As one of the few humanoids who seemed to have a natural immunity, likely something to do with his augmentations, he had been vital to their efforts.

In the aftermath of the war, the Federation had built several public replimats on Cardassia. The compromise was no Federation insignia, only traditional Cardassian architecture, and replicators tweaked specifically for Cardassian cuisine and Cardassian cuisine only . Everyone still knew exactly where they'd come from, but it was a matter of survival. Even the zealots could not say no. 

Julian Bashir and Elim Garak sat at lunch, as they had so many times before, and the curious stares that Julian had been expecting weren't nearly as plentiful or as sharp. He realized the crowd wasn't as homogeneous as he'd expected. He was not even the only human here, and certainly not the only obvious alien sitting at the same table with a Cardassian. 

"You know how it is," Garak said, by way of explanation. "Aid workers come, they fall in love, they never leave."

Fall in love with the place, or with a person? It was impossible to say which he meant. 

At first they talked about all the things Julian already knew, the war recovery and the changing culture of Cardassia, and Garak made an oblique reference to those who remembered the pre-Union famines. Ready to press his luck, Julian asked if Garak was one of those people.

"Not quite," he said.

"Of course. That would have been…eight years before you were born?"

"Standard or Cardassian?"

"Cardassian. In Standard, I think about ten."

"Very clever, Doctor." He looked quietly delighted. 

Their surroundings were loud enough that it ironically afforded them a certain amount of privacy. Julian made a few sly comments that he expected Garak to ignore, but he leaned his elbows on the table instead, fingers interlaced, chin resting on his hands, smiling, and gave it right back. 

The way he could just be so cute , sometimes. 

"I'm sorry I didn't write more often," Julian said at one point. 

"Well, you were busy."

"Yes. But that's not why."

"It wasn't? Why, then?" Garak asked innocently, taking his elbows off the table and picking up his mug of red leaf tea. 

"You know why," Julian said, quietly, his eyes fixed on Garak's. "Because I told you I loved you, and you never once tried to argue me out of it."

He was really pushing his luck now. But Garak didn't demur. 

" That's what you wanted me to do?" he murmured, looking over the rim of his mug. "Really?"

"It was the most I could hope for."

"You are an exceedingly strange man, Doctor." A hint of a smile.

"I'm exceedingly stubborn, is what I am. You know better than anyone how to get me to dig my heels in."

"So you didn't want me to say it back. You wanted me to fight you on it."

"Because then at least I would have known that you cared ."

Very quietly now. "You think I didn't?"

"I know you did, Elim. That's not the point. But if you'd wanted my love, you would have told me to fuck off. Case in point: the last time we saw each other, I said I was sure I would see you again, and you immediately came back with a rebuttal about ‘uncertain times.’ That's why I knew I had to come back. As soon as the vaccine rollout was stabilized on Betazed, I did exactly that."

“I read about that,” Garak said, quite transparently because it was something to say.

“I’m sure you did.”

“You are very contrary.”

“Mmmhm.” He risked bumping his foot against Garak’s under the table. It stayed there, solid and unmoving. “So now, here I am. Still as contrary as ever. Still in love with you.”

Garak stared at him for entirely too long. 

“Fuck off,” he said, in Standard, letting the hard stops and round vowels roll off of his tongue, his face as soft and open as Julian had ever seen it.

Julian smiled fiercely. “I’ll have you saying it for real before the night’s over.”

“Will you?” A breathless moment.

“Oh. Yes. I’ll have you saying anything I want.”

***

Garak had an apartment in the heart of the city, in the first of the new residences built after the fire. The building was ever expanding higher, and with each new level people moved back into Kardasi'or from the countryside or the colony worlds to which they had fled. Breathing life back into its streets, one day at a time. 

It was mostly tidy, if cluttered. In seven years, Garak's quarters at the station had never looked as much like his home as this place did. The walls were covered in memories - drawings and sketches that Julian recognized as Ziyal's work, some printed photographs, pieces of decorative embroidery that he guessed were like Cardassian cross-stitch. There was much to take in, but his eyes kept stuttering between two things. By the window, a pot of purple irises. On the wall, by the bed, a picture of him.

He remembered the moment, if not the picture itself. It was in Quark's on his twenty-ninth birthday. A different life. A different lifetime. A boyish smile, an unbridled enthusiasm. He'd never minded being in candid shots, as they always seemed to turn out better than anything posed, but he had never seen this one before.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked, softly. 

"I'm sure I don't remember," said Garak mildly, pulling open a cabinet in the kitchenette. 

Julian laughed. What had he been expecting, really?

He crossed the room and waited until Garak set down the bottle of kanar on the counter, then reached out and gently took hold of his wrist. He waited for the tense and then the release, the old instincts kicking in and then being manually overridden.

Then, he spun Garak around and kissed him. After three years, almost four, it felt…

It felt like home. 

And then it felt like something significantly more scandalous. 

"You didn't even look over," he murmured accusingly. 

"One deduces you're asking about the photograph, or the flowers. Either way, the answer is immaterial." Garak was breathless and not doing a good job of hiding it. Delightful. 

"I suppose it is. What I really mean to ask is why ."

"You know why."

"Always with this. I want you to tell me, Elim. I want you to say it. I want you to tell me the trouble you had to go through to get those flowers, how you once asked - Keiko, I imagine? - oh, what are those flowers in the replimat, they're lovely, are they from Earth? And years later maybe, convincing her to send you the seeds and the soil, pretending all the while she didn't know why. I want to know who took that picture and how you got ahold of it. I want you to tell me that it mattered enough to swallow your pride, that you've loved me that long, and that much."

"And again, why? When you already know."

The kanar stayed on the counter. 

"You took it, didn't you?" Julian gasped, some minutes later, earning him a furious glare and the not entirely unpleasant sensation of relatively cool air hitting his spit-soaked cock as Garak pulled away. He must've turned the cooling unit on in preparation for this visit, Julian only now realized - how sweet. 

"The picture," he clarified, sitting up. "There's no way you would have asked someone else to make you a copy of one they took, and you couldn't have just hacked it from someone else's files if it was never backed up in the first place, and why would anyone else bother?"

"I assure you," Garak said very primly, "I did no such thing."

"Turn the temperature back up," Julian said, scooting forward and pressing a kiss to the dip in his forehead. Garak's eyes fluttered shut. "As much as you need to be comfortable naked."

" You won't be comfortable."

"I assure you I will be."

He wouldn't be, really, but it wasn't worth stopping to put the stupid temperature regulating necklace back on. Besides, Garak had always seemed to enjoy it when his body got a bit slick with sweat, and afterwards too - perhaps a far bit past the point where the scent grew stale and most humanoids would be telling him to go shower before they nestled in his armpit. Well. Cardassians clearly got something more complex and pleasant out of the smell of human musk. Or perhaps just this Cardassian, and this human in particular.

Garak peeled himself off again for long enough to undress down to his final layer. After all this time, Julian's heart still skipped a few beats. 

It wasn't the corset's design, as plain and utilitarian as it was. It wasn't the enticing crisscross of laces, or even the way it pulled his lover's body into such an alluring shape, the strange dichotomy of sensuality and restraint, the stiffness of the stays under his fingers. 

It was the shimmer of blue-gray scales between those laces. It was the way his hair, long now, and loose since Julian pulled the neat little tie and slipped it onto his wrist so he wouldn't lose it, brushed across the material. It was the man himself, and of course it always had been, and he was beautiful now but he was beautiful then, just in a different way. 

Now, now , he was vibrant and he was home, and he was beautiful, in his own bed, writhing under Julian's body and pulling him close, inner muscles pulling him deeper . He was wanton and shameless. He was -

"Beautiful," Julian said, his voice breaking in a moan as he lost himself in it. "Elim, you're so - fucking beautiful."

Well. His body hadn't forgotten how to let go. 

With a little chagrined chuckle, he took a deep breath and pushed past the sharp over-sensitized twinge of his next few strokes, letting it smooth and settle, concentrating on staying hard. It wouldn't be long before it wouldn't take any conscious effort at all, thanks to the augmentations. 

"Hmm," Garak purred, tilting his hips appreciatively. "You needn't trouble yourself on my account."

"Yes I do," Julian groaned. The aftershocks of his orgasm stayed, quivering, somewhere behind his pelvic bone. " Fuck , it feels…God, what in the…why's it feel so good ?"

"Is it not supposed to?" Garak sounded vaguely amused, but he was starting to unravel. 

" Unnngh ," Julian supplied helpfully, his toes curling. He was tingling all over, shuddering with it, rutting helplessly until Garak tensed and groaned underneath him, the sensation of the tightening and rippling grip drawing another jolt of pure sharp bliss out of his cock before he collapsed. 

Chest heaving, heart beating wildly, he rolled to the side so he wouldn't ruin the corset with his copious sweat. He remembered Garak saying something about them being delicate to clean. 

Garak sat up after a moment and began to loosen his laces. As soon as the headrush cleared, Julian sat up and took over the job. 

"I do love you, Shu'lian ."

The words slipped out quietly. 

"Yes," said Julian, kissing the nape of his neck, wondering how many people had been allowed this closeness, this extravagant vulnerability from the Son of Tain. "I know."

***

“I had heard a rumor,” Garak said, as the oppressive heat of the afternoon began to wane into evening. “Closed-door meetings. Natima Lang, Alon Ghemor, Admiral Ross, and some others. An unnamed Federation ‘expert on Cardassian culture.’”

Julian sighed, turning to him with a rueful smile. “I pushed back on that title quite vigorously, I will have you know.”

“I’ve no doubt. Did you plan on telling me?”

“Seemed redundant.”

“Common courtesy is never redundant.”

“I thought it might fall through.”

“And it didn’t.”

“I’m sure you saw my visa. Quite unusual to issue one without an end date.”

“Unprecedented, some would say. But why would you assume I have access to such a thing?”

“ Garak .”

"I really have left that life behind me, Doctor."

"Well, now you know," Julian said. "The Federation gets two offices in the renovated wing of the Ministry. It's not an embassy, you see. Because that would be overreaching."

"It certainly would."

"I'm being pressed into service as the surgeon general liaison to Cardassia. I'm almost starting to think they want me tucked away where they can try to forget about me."

"Well, now you know how it feels." Garak stretched and stood. It was still a novelty to see him naked and entirely unconcerned about it. "So this isn't purely a social visit, then."

"Not social, and not a visit. Sorry to disappoint." Julian grinned, sitting up cross-legged in the bed. "I do have my own living arrangements, actually."

"I'm afraid we're going to need every housing unit we can get for the next wave of refugees," said Garak, pulling a few odds and ends from the kitchenette cabinets. "But I daresay it's not too much of an imposition, sharing a bed with you."

"Oh, thank you," said Julian, with an exaggerated bow of his head. "Quite pleased to join your collection as the crown jewel of your Julian Bashir shrine."

"It's one picture, dear." Garak sat down and laid out an assortment of tins and boxes. "The flowers, I simply enjoy for their exotic beauty."

"My mistake," Julian murmured, leaning over the pile of snacks to kiss him. 

***

“I’ve been thinking about something you told me,” Garak said, as the red sunset crept across the sky. 

“Go on," Julian said, when it was clear he needed a prompt. 

“You said once that you almost stayed on Earth instead of taking the posting on the station. There was a girl.”

“Yes, there was a girl.” Julian stared at the ceiling.

“Did she know how close you were to leaving? Did she know, before you told her?” The question felt like a raw nerve. For both of them, Julian imagined, for very different reasons.

“How could she have known before I told her?” 

“ Shu’lian .”

He sighed heavily, turning his head slightly to the wall. His twenty-nine-year-old self smiled at him - no, not exactly at him, but slightly out of frame. 

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Julian said, at last. “You, of all people, should respect that.”

Another silence.

“I’m sorry,” said Garak. It was an apology with teeth.

“I’m not the same man I was ten years ago,” Julian replied, evenly. “Are you ?”

A low blow, maybe. Or not. Maybe it hit exactly where it needed to.

"There is a difference," Garak said, very softly. "I would never - never . Never again. Never to you."

Something cracked in Julian's chest. 

"I know. I know ." He captured one of Elim's hands in his own, brought it to his lips. "If…in the highly unlikely event something isn't working out here, I promise I will talk to you. But you have to promise you'll trust me to do that, and not just…wait around for the other shoe to drop."

“I will try.”

Julian knew that was the best he’d get.

"Thank you," he whispered. "You won't regret it."

***

Julian woke in the middle of the night, finally relenting and going to find his personal temperature regulator. While he groped for it, he felt something else tucked under the pillow. It didn’t feel like a weapon, which would have been his first thought. 

He picked it up - a battered PADD - and found it open to the final page of one of his letters. He'd sent it almost six months ago, just before the first murmurs of the Federation embassy began to reach the ears of Deep Space 9 command.

He didn't need to read it to remember what he'd said. But he did, all the same. 

P.S. You said in your last letter that Palandine once told you something you never forgot - that a ship could never love an anchor. But that's not true, you know? Without an anchor, a ship is dashed to pieces against the rocks. A ship loves an anchor so much it carries it everywhere it goes. An anchor gives a ship the world to love. 

A ship loves an anchor the way a fire loves a hearth - with enough passion to make it a home .

Yours always,

Julian