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I, Garak	By : CyreliaJ Category: Star Trek > Deep Space 9 Views: 2005 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any of its characters. i'm also not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
So I'm glad I took a bit of time in starting this because I ended up getting a brilliant bit of inspiration for the final installment coming soon. So I backed off on any real angst deciding ultimately I want to keep this porn with plot and light on too much extraneous baggage like that so there you go. Thank you everyone for all of your encouragement and kind words. No sex here, but I hope to outdo myself when I start on the third story ;)

   “Do you think we might... not do that here then?” Julian asks, Garak feeling the heat move away from his face as he opens his eyes. He sees Julian looking up and away from him almost distantly and he realizes that the alarms, that all of the background noise has finally ceased. They’re not dead. At least he’s certain that his incorporeal form wouldn’t be so Guls damned sore if that were the case. Unless of course one believes that the afterlife is merely an extension of the physical in the way the E-geeptians Julian speaks of carting their baubles and servants to the afterlife with them. Imagine, Elim, dead, buried, with all the trappings of an imperfect physical body. Garak sighs and sees Julian is still looking up at that point and it hits him exactly what it is that Julian is looking at. It’s the security camera, and it circles back to the beginning of this entire misadventure. Garak hopes if he is dead that Dukat is there with him. He wonders if he could kill him again if that were the case.
   “You know, there’s a special place in hell for you, Garak.” Julian’s voice interrupts Garak’s erstwhile thoughts of the afterlife with a posthumously themed remark of his own. There’s a fondness, almost dark amusement in his voice that Garak is wary of. Humor was the last reaction that he was expecting. Julian turns back, seeing the gears in Garak’s head turning likely seeking some measured response or likely a lie. He pokes Garak’s chula forcing back a smile when he sees the jump in response to the pressure to that sensitive little blue indentation near his collarbone. “Right, you think I’m going to be angry, don’t you?”
   Julian sighs. They’d already had it out once over the matter of Cardassian intrigue where the boy Rugal was concerned and Julian had realized that same anger now over Garak’s self serving spy instincts would be like chastising a lizard for swallowing a fly landing on its tongue. Of course the opportunistic reptile was going to follow its instincts; and Julian trusts Cardassian memory is already working replay his words for him in Garak’s recollection. Well good, let it. He’s too damn tired for it now to do it himself.
   “I would be remiss not to point out an earlier... discussion on the matter,” Garak offers wondering if it would be too far out of the realm of their normal pattern of behavior to put his mouth to Julian’s shoulder. He does. Julian lets him, feeling a bit more boneless. He isn’t sure how long a period of lucidity he’ll have; he rather suspects his mind may remain lucid as long as he doesn’t rally against the physical urgings. But this is nice, and Julian just... doesn’t have the energy to rail against how pleasantly warm he is. Well, score another one for nature then. He doesn’t keep an official score of his attempts to overcome his biology. The numbers would likely depress him though he imagines it to be comparable to his and Miles’ raquetball numbers. And speaking of Miles, thank God for small miracles that he wasn’t there for this. And then wouldn’t Marx argue that human nature is the culmination of nothing but social relations and not an inherent trait. Unless of course one is a genetically altered freak whose behavior, perceptions, words, and sometimes thoughts are manipulated by nothing but billions of extraneous pairs on a helix floating through every part of his body. Julian is beginning to suppose that’s just another thing he’s going to have to accept about himself.
   Garak thinks he hears Julian mumble something about opportunistic reptiles doing what they do, Julian, purring softly. Garak takes that as a cue to move his mouth over the soft side of Julian’s neck, warm, sweaty human skin pulsing beneath his mouth. He takes stock of the shambles that is Commander Sisko’s office, the state of Julian and himself and thinks it might be a blessing if everyone on the bridge were in fact dead so they can avoid the awkward scenario of walking out amongst them. He’s still wary of Julian’s easy manner, knowing never to trust something which seems too good to be true, but Julian’s flutter of eyes and soft moan is a wave wash over those doubts, urging his mind onward to the more pressing matter of them making their way back to Garak’s quarters. While Julian’s are far closer, Garak expects the habitat ring and Promenade to remain empty for some time and the extra time to...recover will certainly help.
   He stops when Julian does, Julian looking towards the door, and for one moment Garak is afraid there’s actually someone there. Julian is merely looking at it though, or through it really, imagining the other side of it. He thinks of Dax, of Kira, of the poor man who died while he was... Okay, deep breath, Julian, there wasn’t anything you could have done. Jadzia will understand... Kira will... understand in time and they have to know that you didn’t exactly have any control over the situation. He processes that thought unpleasantly, thinking if anything the discomfort may trend towards the sympathetic. If anything, that’s almost worse as he really doesn’t want to have to suffer those sorts of looks. While Julian would have hardly run into Dukat’s arms willingly, sixteen years of this nonsense has numbed him to the usual post “drunken one nighter regret” that he used to feel when all this first began. Yeah, you should be right proud of yourself there. Julian then hears his father’s voice then in an odd flash of memory and he can’t help it. Julian actually laughs at loud knowing Garak has stopped, looking at him with concern.
   “Well, at least the bloke wasn’t a Manchester supporter,” Julian says in a fair mimic of his father’s more colloquial drawl. That was what his father said to him when he was nineteen and spending a self recriminating morning after one of his cycles full of tears and self loathing dry heaving into the toilet. In response, hi mother had Mr. Richard Bashir spending a week on the sofa over that one. Julian had somewhat spitefully tossed the wooden support board holding up the sinking center of it as well. His father still has the audacity to complain to this day that had caused his bad back. Julian snickers softly with a shake of his head marveling at the complete culmination of “fucked uppedness” that has comprised his entire life to his point and supposes Garak may be a kindred spirit in that from what he’s managed to piece together on his own. “I bet all the damn Cardies support Manchester,” Julian mumbles to himself as he continues staring at the door.
   “I’m afraid my profession has afforded little time over the years to keep abreast of the rivalry between a league of overpaid and overhyped athletes,” Garak answers practically basking in Julian’s glow of astonishment. He doesn’t say anything else, merely continues to stare back at Julian, expression blank with just the hint of a smile. Never let it be said that you aren’t thorough in your investigations, Elim. “But if I had to pick a side,” Garak continues thoughtfully, taking note of the still prevalent flush of Julian’s skin, the sheen of sweat, the slight shine of Garak’s come still glistening along his jaw. “I couldn’t possibly support a team whose supporters started the second great footballer riots of 2124.” Garak had only read the strange little sports tidbits as an aside and was quite ready to dismiss them outright when he noticed a correlation in names between the team and that major incident and found himself rather impressed with the nonsense that humans would go to war over.
   “In fairness,’ Julian begins surprisingly breathless, “the conditions after the third World War and the massive famine are widely seen as contributors towards the riot with Williams’ ill-timed protest against the European Hegemony an unfortunate catalyst. I’m hardly an expert on old Earth history if it’s not football related I’m afraid but... but I’d really like to go now,” Julian says eyes bright and eager. He has time, feeling the stirrings starting back up again but knowing they won’t be anywhere approaching unmanageable again for a few hours. At least enough time for poor Garak to have a bite to eat and for the both of them to get a shower. Perhaps together if Garak is of a mind and Julian extricates himself reluctantly. “I don’t… suppose you know how long we’ve ah… been at it?” Julian asks hearing faint voices on the other side of the door.
   Well if he were to be honest- never!- Garak couldn’t even be sure of when the alarm had even ceased.
“I would say if nothing else, we can safely rest assured that with the crisis averted that Dukat has long crawled back to whatever hole he slithered out of in the first place.” He stands with a groan and set about gathering their clothes, the both of them trying to piece back into some semblance of presentability. His tongue flicks the air and he supposes there are some things that aren’t going to be able to be helped. He shoots Julian a smile that he hopes is reassuring as he puts a hand on his shoulder, regrettably noting his body covered in the rumbled uniform, legs shifting, bending, Julian making a face at the sticky mess causing his likely discomfort. Ah, and here that delectably disheveled picture nearly distracted you from your final task, Elim. He isn’t quite sure what Odo is up to but hopes it provides an adequate distraction for what he needs to do. Garak catches another impatient shift of Julian’s weight from one foot to another as he makes his way to the console at Commander Sisko’s desk.
   “Really?” Julian says crossing his arms. “You’re really going to do this now?” He was at least hoping that Garak might wait. He settles for a disapproving stare as Garak’s hands quickly enter the same access codes from earlier.
“My dear doctor,” Garak answers with mock chastisement, “surely we wouldn’t want Dukat to get away with such dastardly deeds, would we?”
“The security footage is logged, Garak,” Julian points out. “You hardly need your own copy.” Garak looks up, and just looks at him while Julian throws his hands up in the air.
“Oh of course, my apologies, of course you need your own copy for whatever blackmail spy nonsense you’ve planned.”
“I believe on Earth you would call it “insurance”, Julian,” Garak replies serenely as he quickly transfers a copy of the file to a secure private server. “Unless of course you plan to file criminal charges with Starfleet in which case it would be a moot issue.”
   “Are you mad?!” Julian clears his throat and lowers his voice. “Of course I’m not going to… to… absolutely not. The fewer people know about this,” he waves his hand around the room, “the better.”
“Well that was as I suspected Julian, and so we have our… “insurance”.”
“So help me Garak if you ever release that for anyone else to see it’s over between us.”
“Why Julian, I’m surprised! I thought it was already going to be “over” once you receive your parcel in the next few weeks.” Garak closes the access point out, working quickly to erase his activity. He notices that Julian seems flustered and looks back down so that Julian doesn’t catch any hint of satisfaction at his stammer.
“I mean… I mean our friendship of course you’re right I…” Julian finds himself looking at Garak, looking away again quickly.
   “I mean…” That’s what you want, isn’t it, Julian? For things to go back to “normal” between the two of you? Normal, right. What’s normal, Julian? If you go by the textbook definition of the term, normal is the standard, the usual average. You spent approximately 3 months as sort of barely acquaintances. You’ve spent nearly three years as… as this. This is normal, Julian. Alright then, he amends to himself: not “normal” going by the standard parameters of their relationship specifically but normal by Julian’s life as a whole. Julian is straight. Julian is not attracted to men. Julian has never been attracted to males of either species and that hasn’t changed. The sexual response not withstanding from stimulation, from that annoying biological process, he has remained completely certain that even going by a sliding scale of sexual fluidity, he’s never fallen anywhere but a hundred percent heterosexual. Until you got into this thing with Garak, that is.
   He really isn’t quite sure why he’s been so resistant to that notion. It’s not that he would have felt any sort of shame or embarrassment if he’d ever found a man attractive in that manner in the past, it was a rather unremarkable thing after all but it’s a core part of him that he’s always held in complete certainty. This whole mess has left him despairing, turning over his interactions with Garak prior to their relationship and even in his eidetic memory he can’t recall any hint of desire on his part. He can recall his thought, his emotions when Garak laid hands on his shoulders that day they first met. There was no heart racing flutter from any of those whispers of intrigue, no breathless desire, no errant thoughts of tasting Garak’s mouth while they were speaking, no covert looks to let his eyes roam over Garak’s form, no wicked daydreams while watching Garak in his shop bent over a table… And now there is.
   Julian doesn’t quite know why these last few hours have brought such stark clarity to the matter but as Julian looks at Garak now, thinking those thoughts, aching, longing, he knows with absolute certainty that even once his cycle abates they’re not going to go away. He was dreaming about Garak weeks ago, months ago even. He remembers it vividly. Earlier that day, Julian had been discussing one of the compositions they’d listened to while on break and the shop had been slow a moment. Garak had noticed some slovenly patron had knocked a pair of socks under table on the far end and excused himself to tidy it up. Julian had thought little of it until Garak had to actually half crawl under there to get it and that’s when he realized that his eyes had wandered, staring hard at Garak’s ass, at his knees on the floor and actually thought about… God, he’d honestly thought about what it would be like to take him, to feel Garak trembling around him and he’d practically run out of there after that begging off on some medical emergency.
   That had led to more dreams- dreams that he couldn’t simply dismiss as leftover memory from their encounters. He dreamed of that scene again, playing out with the shop closed, with Garak looking at him over his shoulder and he’d woken up so ridiculously hard. He’d really been trying to push all of that out of his head and he’d almost convinced himself that it didn’t matter but… but he finally looks back at Garak, crossing his arms and heaven help him he can’t believe he’s even saying this. Julian clears his throat.
“I mean,” Julian continues steadily, proud that his voice doesn’t crack and the he doesn’t stutter. “I would like to continue our relationship. I need to know if this is real between you and me.” He mentally pats himself on the back though he internally cringes at the formality. Garak for his part is silent a moment, processing that leaving Julian to wonder if that wasn’t part of his usual worst possible thing at worst possible time syndrome. He like to think of it as Julian Syndrome.
   Far from is, Garak is merely stunned into silence as he regards Julian looking as if he may try and sink into the floor at any moment. From the little that Julian had shared with him he doesn’t imagine such words have come easily. He would also question the wisdom of making such a proposition mid cycle but Julian hardly seems to be saying it under some biological duress. Garak is also starkly realistic about the odds of Julian trying to recant the moment things on the station normalize as well and he’s back to flirting with his usual revolving bevy of willing women. Garak has spent a lifetime hoping for the best but expecting the worst and this is no different but there is still a certain… easing of weight, a certain bit of smile that comes to his face in spite of his attempts to remain inscrutable.
“I didn’t mean to alarm you with my silence, my dear,” Garak says at last, a hand on his shoulder fingers running down the sleeve of his uniform. “I was merely reflecting on how pleased it makes me to hear you say that.”
   It’s a rare vulnerability and Julian ought to appreciate it and then never speak of it again. Garak raises a hand before Julian ruins the moment with the obvious caveat of making no promises, not getting his hopes up as if they’re attempting to maneuver through a particularly treacherous asteroid field, shields down, armor weakened the risk of death by explosion imminent. Though it is an apt metaphor for the entire thing, if he does say so himself. Julian takes the cue and smiles at him teasing.
“So as I was saying, Garak, if you even think about showing that footage to anyone we’re over.”
“Really, Julian! You have no appreciation for the little intrigues that make the spice of life. I assure you, the mere knowledge that it is in my possession, ah you couldn’t have given me a better gift!”
“Right,” Julian answered blandly, “Just don’t expect a reoccurrence with that Tain fellow or whoever else you’re trying to create dirt on.”
Julian turns towards the door, not seeing Garak’s near shudder of revulsion. Garak tamps that down vowing never to impart the many levels on which he finds the mere suggestion of that completely repulsive.
“If you’ve any hope of continuing where we left off, I would ask you never mention that name again in conjunction with that act.” Julian laughs, seeing Garak nearly fail again at hiding a visceral revulsion and he’s almost tempted to say something further but Garak is just sadistic enough to follow through on that and leave Julian writhing on the bed, begging for it, stroking himself just out of reach. He’d done that before, a little game like that and Julian can’t help but think that it might almost be… fun when it’s conventional arousal outside of that mindless drive. There’s a certain shivery delightful thought at delaying that pleasure- at least while his body is still lazily recovering, getting ready to ramp back up to full fever. Well Julian, it’s now or never. He thinks almost shyly holding out a hand for Garak to take.
   Garak blinks, not quite sure what Julian is doing until he sees that hand and he knows it’s customary amongst lovers of multiple races to clasps their hands in such a manner. He takes Julian’s hand and gives a squeeze.
“You know,” Julian says conversationally as the door opens and he starts walking forward. “When I was a child I used to hold my breath thinking that it would make me invisible. Do you suppose there may be any merit in that experiment?” Garak chuckled at the picture, certain that the laughter from the both of them is far from the picture they’re supposed to be presenting in light of the circumstances -the Ancients only know what everyone will make the both of them now- but ah, he supposes he’ll have to find some other day to concern himself with propriety. Garak keeps that winning smile pasted on his face as every eye on the Promenade turns towards them. Julian’s next to his is a bit more strained, but nonetheless Garak is pleased. He’d taught him well. It doesn’t go nearly as badly as he had prepared for. As for later...
   Surprising no one save perhaps Julian, Dukat had still insisted on reestablishing a Cardassian Garrison on Deep Space Nine even as he finished tucking his shame back into his pants, swaggering out of Commander Sisko’s Office like cock of the walk, to quote one of Julian’s charming old earth idioms. Jadzia may have perhaps been embellishing as she recounted the rest of the ridiculous affair over breakfast. Garak found that his estimation of her company was correct and perhaps he may have also enjoyed a bit of Julian’s poorly hidden envy as well when she actually took him up a few days later whene he was “free” for breakfast. Which of them it is as the source of Julian’s envy, he can honestly say he isn’t sure but his bit of bristling as Garak stuck his head in the infirmary to wish him a good morning might have put an extra bit of spring in Garak’s step as he met Jadzia for breakfast. She had delighted in recounting the ridiculous series of events after Dukat had exited Commander Sisko’s office. Garak didn’t think he’d ever howled so loudly.
   She’d also been far more knowledgable about Julian’s “condition” than he ever would have guessed. Garak was doubly impressed that everyone in the station didn’t know everything about it as a result but it seemed that Julian was in desperate need of someone to confide in and he didn’t imagine that Chief O’Brien might be the most comfortable conversationalist for that particular topic. Jadzia was endlessly curious and more inclined to ask questions or make amusing observations than weigh in with any particular opinion. He also found that she was in possession of a delightfully wicked sense of humor, evidenced by her remark to him a month following that incident on the bridge. (“The Incident” as Julian nebulously refers to it having mercifully been forgotten by most everyone there lingering rather in the form of the occasional look at Julian or him in particular.)
   “You know,” she began with that twinkle in her eye that usually made Julian wary. He was beginning to understand why. “There used to be a big belief on Earth that microchimerism was possible between partners who’d been together a long time. Isn’t that crazy?” She laughed taking a spoonful of porridge.
“Microchimerism?” Garak inquired politely knowing that she was very much like Julian and that an explanation was sure to follow. It was an intriguing one at that. Microchimerism being the presence of foreign cells in a host body usually only seen in transplant patients or mothers after giving birth. “Right, and they used to believe that’s why married couples began to look alike after so long,” she explained and he wondered exactly where she was even going with that. “The frequent exchange of genetic material you know,” she finished with a waggle of her eyebrows.
   “Fascinating,” he replied automatically, taking a bite of scone with strawberry jam. He realized then that it was Julian’s favorite breakfast and he shook his head with a soft chuckle. “But I assure you, my dear, that as long as our... cultural exchange has been going on I think I’d notice any new scale growth on Julian by this point.”
“Well you never know,” she teased. “It goes both ways doesn’t it?” It was an obvious fish for information and he weighed his options of clever riposte.
“Perhaps,” he demurred with another bite of his scone. It hadn’t, yet, but Julian had hinted, oh had he ever hinted and Garak was looking forward to that additional dimension of their relationship. “But of course that’s all fantastic myth after all,” he continued with a shrug leaving her to guess.
“Of course it is,” she agreed, the subject moving on to more station gossip.

It wouldn’t be until months later that Garak would think of the conversation once more while laid up in the infirmary with Julian trying desperately to from laughing at his predicament. Fantastic myth indeed...

Spoiler alert: no, Garak isn't going to be afflicted in the same manner as Julian but oh he is in for a surprise aright. Stay tuned!
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I, Garak