Work Text:
There were certain universal constants when one worked retail. One of those was the inevitable fact that, when there were five minutes until the shop was scheduled to close, someone would invariably show up with a time-consuming demand. So it was no real surprise when someone entered the shop as Garak was cleaning up prior to closing for the day.
Head aching in a way that not even his implant could dull, he automatically put on his customer service smile and turned to face the newcomer. His smile became wider and more genuine when he saw Julian Bashir standing in his threshold, looking sheepish. He hadn’t expected to see the Human again so soon after their little adventure with the Duras sisters. To the best of Garak’s knowledge, there was nothing happening in the sector that would require a Federaji to approach a Cardassian spy.
So why had he decided to visit the shop so near closing-time? And looking so furtive, too...
“I, uh, I’m sorry for showing up so late, but my shift ran over,” Julian explained, instantly chilling Garak’s hope that the Human had shown up for an illicit encounter.
A shame, but hardly a surprise. “What can I do for you, Doctor?” he asked, stepping closer. “Do come in,” he added, taking Julian by the arm and urging him deeper into the shop.
Locking the door behind him was a precaution against further customers showing up, nothing more, and Garak gave the Human a curious smile, fully prepared to remain polite, professional, and detached. With the other Cardassians gone, he needed new customers, and if one member of the new Starfleet Command Crew started to patronize the shop, others might follow suit.
“How can I help you?” he asked when Julian didn’t respond to the initial question.
“Um... I was hoping I could commission you. For some tailoring.”
A perfectly sensible reason to walk into a tailor’s shop, but the Human managed to sound guilty as he said it, almost ashamed. He was an attractive man, even managing to wear a Starfleet uniform well in spite of those ridiculous shoulder-pads. So what did a man like him need with a tailor, and why did it seem to be a source of personal embarrassment for him? Or did he actually need the services of a tailor at all? Perhaps he had an entirely different sort of ‘service’ on his mind. Intrigued, Garak gestured for him to continue.
“Um... you ever put something on and the seam just drives you nuts? Sorry, Human colloquialism. I mean, just the sensation of a seam rubbing against your leg is impossible to ignore? Very irritating and distracting.”
Garak nodded, and resisted the urge to cast aspersions on Federation sewing. It was even more unforgivable given the fact that those hideous uniforms were almost certainly replicated, which meant that every set of trousers the doctor had to wear during working hours must be driving him quietly mad.
“So you’d like me to alter your uniforms so the seams feel less conspicuous.”
“Well, uh, not my uniforms, actually,” he answered, clearing his throat and staring at the ceiling.
Was he deliberately putting that long, slim throat of his on display?
“Ah, you’d some of your off-duty clothes altered?” Garak ventured, resisting the urge to stare at the pretty Human. And failing. That neck of his was as lean and graceful as every other part of him seemed to be.
Still seeming embarrassed, Julian answered, “Um... well, my pants, actually.”
“Ah, yes. Trousers with obtrusive seams can be terribly uncomfortable.”
“No.” He shook his head, folding his arms across his chest and staring at a point just to the left of Garak. “My pants.”
Garak frowned at the Human in blank confusion.
“My... undergarments.”
He blinked, no less baffled, albeit for different reasons. “You want me to adjust the seams on your underwear?”
Julian cleared his throat, fixing his eyes on the ceiling again. And while Garak’s rational mind insisted that such a blatant display couldn’t possibly mean from a Human what it would have meant from a Cardassian, that still left the question of why he wanted Garak to handle his undergarments at all. That was so much more intimate and revealing than wanting a shirt, dress, or pair of trousers. Humans were, of course, a shockingly permissive culture, but there had to be limits.
Didn’t there?
Julian’s hands were empty. If he had come here to get his ‘pants’ altered, then where were they? Did he intend to disrobe in front of Garak and hand the offending garment over without even washing it first? Well, that would certainly clarify his intention in coming here!
“Can I borrow your replicator?” Julian asked, and Garak had never found that question so disappointing. “I’ll use my own replicator credits, obviously.”
“By all means,” he assured Julian, gesturing towards it and watching as he punched in a code and then replicated an undergarment called, for some reason, a pair of boxer-briefs.
Garak eyed the undergarment, frowning. It looked dreadful snug, which seemed an odd choice for a species who kept everything on the outside. No wonder Julian found the thing uncomfortable!
Of course, it would have been indelicate to point that out, or even really to speculate, so he took the garment from Julian’s hands instead, examining its construction. It took him a few moments to actually switch on his tailor-brain and stop imagining Julian in nothing but this tight underwear, but he did manage it.
The fabric was soft and a slightly stretchy, and Garak supposed that someone with Julian’s... configuration might benefit from a bit of constriction and support. The Human hadn’t complained about the tightness of the garment after all, so Garak turned his attention to the seams, which seemed all the more conspicuous given how sheer the fabric was. He tugged at the seam with a frown, shaking his head faintly.
“This is the default design?” he asked, pulling harder. It seemed sturdy enough, but the seams were ridged rather than flat.
Julian nodded. “They, um... provide good support, but the seams...”
“All of them, or just the ones on the inner thigh?” he asked, and immediately wished he hadn’t.
Julian’s thighs must be absolutely magnificent. And, apparently, rather sensitive.
“Just those seams, really,” Julian answered, his eyes fixed on the ceiling again.
“How much structural integrity are you willing to sacrifice for a more comfortable fit?” Garak asked, doing his best not to think too hard about Julian’s seams giving way at an inopportune moment.
“Well, I’m rather athletic and active,” he told Garak, shrugging.
Oh yes, those dusky thighs would be lovely. Garak wondered idly if he could steal a peek at them when Julian tried on his remade pants.
But, of course, he must remain professional, so he told Julian, “I’ll need a few days to experiment, but I’m sure that a different type of stitching and the right kind of thread will make a world of difference.”
“Really?” he asked, and the way his face lit up almost made Garak feel guilty over his lewd imaginings.
Almost.
“Alternately, I could assemble a new pair from scratch using this design and a more... pleasing fabric.”
“Pleasing?” Julian repeated in a whisper, face coloring.
Garak couldn’t help but smile at that reaction. “Something soft, smooth.” Lowering his voice, he leaned in a bit and added, “Something so comfortable you’d forget you were wearing anything at all.”
Julian blushed worse, and a pathetic little whine escaped him. He gave a little nod and a nervous smile, then turned and scuttled from the shop.
The urge to give chase was powerful, but Garak had always been a patient man. Whatever game Julian was playing, asking Garak to hand-make his underwear instead of simply replicating a different design, Garak wouldn’t be the first to blink. Julian may have scored the first point by forcing Garak to think about what he must look like under his hideous Starfleet uniform, but there was no way he would be able to feel silk against delicate skin and not think of Garak: his dexterous hands; his willingness to please; the way he’d happily offered to go above and beyond, just for Julian.
One of the many Federaji euphemisms for sex was to speak of ‘getting into someone’s pants.’ And Garak couldn’t help feeling that making the pants in question would be an excellent opening gambit.