Chapter Text
Julian Bashir was being bothered.
Something was tapping his shoulder, very gently, rather insistently. He scrunched up his face and rolled over, trying to hide from whatever was rude enough to disturb his sleep. No luck; the tapping continued right between his shoulder blades, regular as a clock's tick and just as subtly annoying.
He hunched his shoulders and tried to burrow deeper into the bed. Maybe if I stay very still, it will go away.
For a moment, it seemed his ruse had worked; the tapping stopped. He waited, face buried in his pillow, only half-awake and so comfortable...
And a hand buried itself deep in his left axilla and tickled, and he yelped and flipped over and scrambled away, and found himself flat on his back, staring up at his adversary.
Garak's ridged face smiled down at him. "Good morning, small-flower-with-a-greenish-centre." Julian's universal translator added a subtle echo to the last phrase; it couldn't quite translate, and had substituted something roughly equivalent. Since Julian's arrival on Cardassia, he'd gotten rather familiar with the effect. Cardassian seemed to be a language with many shades of meaning. It's too early for shades of meaning...
"Mmmmph... good morning, Garak... that was a dirty trick..."
"I specialize in them. You may remember."
Julian rubbed his face and blinked the sleep away, and peered up at his Cardassian partner, who was of course fully dressed and washed and ready to face the day. It was maddening. "What time is it?"
"It's oh-seven-hundred."
Julian slitted his eyes and tried to shoot Garak a dirty look, which was surprisingly tricky to do when looking up. "Garak, I've worked until twenty-three-hundred hours for the last five days in a row. Would it be such a crime to let me sleep in on my day off?" He pulled the light sheet up over himself, holding it close to his chest.
Garak smiled serenely and yanked the sheet away; Julian grabbed futilely for it as it slithered to the floor. "'The planet turns,' Doctor; 'move with it, or it will leave you behind.'" His voice had the declamatory tone he used only when he was imparting some essential piece of Cardassian lore to his semi-willing Human student. It is also too early in the morning for declamatory tones.
Julian rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up into a half-sit, resting his weight on his palms. "I don't think that translated quite right, Garak."
Garak looked just a bit rueful. "Proverbs seldom do. Such a shame. Which reminds me: you have, mmm, three more minutes until we turn off your translator."
Julian promptly flopped back on to the bed, throwing his arms out perhaps a touch dramatically. "Oh, for God's sake, can I not just have one day where I can relax?"
His histrionics had very little impact on Garak, who tilted his head and smiled thinly. "You are being lazy, Doctor."
The accusation stung, and Julian sat up again, indignant and briefly dizzy. "Lazy? Me? I work like a dog, Garak! I'm at the Children's Centre eleven days out of thirteen, I run nonstop, I barely eat, I come home, I go to bed, I get up, and I do it all again!"
Garak blinked slowly, just once. "Doctor, may I remind you that I spend my days at the Central Plaza, running nonstop, barely eating, and that I then come home and prepare food for us, and that I do not bring hounds into the matter?" His tone was complacent; his second tongue said irritation. Julian caught it. That was my warning.
"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just..." He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "I hate having my translator off. I know I need to learn Kardasi. And I am trying. I'm already doing better with the second tongue, aren't I?" He looked up at Garak, aware that he sounded rather pathetic. Belatedly, he gestured with one arm in his rudimentary second tongue, apology.
Garak's expression softened a little. "Yes, Julian. You're learning very quickly." He leaned forward and tapped Julian's temple, lightly. "But immersion is the best way I've found to truly understand a language, and you are relying far too much on your translator. It may not always be there for you, you know."
Garak was right. The implanted universal translator was a privilege given to Starfleet officers and favoured citizens of the Federation. If he stayed here on Cardassia - wonderful, terrifying thought, and let's put that away for now - it was very possible that his translator would be deactivated, leaving him on an alien world with only Fed Standard under his belt. Totally inadequate. Possibly dangerous. And I'd be a liability to Garak. But it was such a slow process, learning Kardasi, and a day without a translator was very hard work, and he'd really just wanted to relax today.
"I just hate walking around Cardassia City pointing at things and grunting. It's so frustrating. I feel like a toddler." He knew there was a bit of a whine in his voice; he indulged himself. Let me sulk just a little, please.
Garak nodded, looking past Julian, considering. "How remarkable. You sound like one, too. And your translator isn't even off yet." Both tone and second tongue were amused. It is, to sum up, far too early in the morning for smug Cardassians.
Julian tossed a pillow at him; Garak dodged out of the way easily and laughed at him, flashing white teeth. "Two more minutes," he sang, and moved to the window. He slid aside the heavy curtain, and the sun flashed in, bathing Julian in horrible, horrible light.
Julian groaned, and fled to the safety of the bathroom, closing the door behind him for some semblance of privacy. The face that greeted him in the mirror was still sleepy, chin stubbly (is that another grey hair?), eyes heavy-lidded, hair a mess. Sweat was already beginning to bead on his forehead. Good morning, Julian. Welcome to another lovely day on Cardassia Prime.
He relieved himself and ran his hands under the sterilizer, then tore open a package of pre-moistened wipes, and scrubbed his hair as best he could. They were still rationing power as infrastructure destroyed in the war was rebuilt, and so the water wash he really wanted was out of the question; replicating water when one could just vibrate the dirt away was not acceptable.
But it was so hot now, in the thick of a Cardassian summer; outside temperatures in the streets of Cardassia City routinely reached 37°C, as warm as Human body temperature, and the humidity made it feel a lot hotter. He and Garak kept their home at about 27°C, which was probably equally unpleasant for both of them. Garak wore layers; Julian wore as little as possible.
Even so, his hair always felt matted with sweat, and the sonic shower just didn't seem to do much about it, and these days, water was for drinking and irrigation only. Make do. You've managed with worse.
He combed his hair, cleaned his teeth, ran a depilator over his jaw, then slipped off his light shorts and stepped into the shower. As it hummed, he slumped against the wall, enjoying the sensation as the soothing vibrations cleaned away the worst of last night's sweat. He'd never imagined needing two showers a day, but Cardassia Prime was like an eternal sauna, and his body responded accordingly. Both he and Garak had sensitive noses, and there was no way he was going to walk around smelling like that. Besides, he was one of the few Human residents of the planet, at least so far; he felt a bit of an obligation to represent his species, and he didn't want the cleanliness-loving Cardassians to immediately tag Humanity as "oh, yes, the smelly ones."
His musings on interspecies relations were interrupted by Garak banging on the door. "Time's up, Doctor!"
Oh, for God's sake - "I'm almost done, Garak!"
"You are five minutes overdue - that means five minutes longer tonight!" Garak sounded terribly amused by this. Julian didn't find it nearly as funny.
"All right, all right, I'm coming out." Julian allowed himself one more pleasant stretch in the vibrating air, and deactivated the shower. He picked up his shorts as he left the bathroom and tossed them into the laundry chute. Garak cast an appreciative eye over him as he moved to the wardrobe; he pretended to ignore the Cardassian, and rooted through the wardrobe until he found underpants, a light tunic and some trousers that seemed like they'd go with the tunic well enough that Garak wouldn't complain. He shimmied into them, stretched bone-crackingly, and turned to face the day.
The day came towards him, smiling, blue eyes laughing. "Ready, Doctor? Do you have any last words?"
"I hate this." He pressed his lips together, eyes narrowed.
Garak leaned in and kissed him, pressed his Chufa to Julian's forehead, and whispered, "I know." His tone was mocking and completely unsympathetic.
Julian rolled his eyes. "Really, Garak, you are the most - "
-- Garak's fingers tapped Julian's skull three times, just above the right earlobe, and then pressed lightly for one second --
" - smug, insufferable ass I have ever met."
Garak's smile widened just a little, and he stepped back and shrugged, as Julian's complaints fell on him in a cascade of incomprehensible sound. "Ver'tek, S'h'iosr'ha. Nu taslevren'I." Amusement-amplified, laughed his body.
Yeah. Right. Julian sighed. Ten minutes ago he'd been sleeping. Now he faced thirteen hours of unfiltered Kardasi. Can I just go back to bed?
Well, might as well make the best of it. He was hungry, and there was a tempting aroma wafting from the kitchen; perhaps Garak had laid on some breakfast? "Um. Food?"
Garak's eye ridges bent just slightly, and he waited.
Oh, for God's sake. "Uh. Food... please?"
Garak smiled, and bowed him out of the room.