DS9 - 30-Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge 2/30
Apr. 2nd, 2013 03:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seikilosTitle: 30-Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge - 02. Idol/Fan
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff
Rating & Warnings: G this part, PG-13 overall?
Words: 552 this part, ?? overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: This Cardassian fellow Julian has just met at a dull post-fashion show party is really very fascinating--but why does he make his date so flustered?
Author's Notes: This scenario is sort of loosely based on 24th-century canon--very loosely. It's not a prompt that interests me very much, so I didn't spend as much time as usual working out the details.
Instead, I took this as an opportunity to play around with the weird contradiction DS9's writers seem to have unintentionally introduced, wherein Bashir is a lovely human being but kind of an ass when it comes to dating. I'm not sure if I was able to keep that balance, but it was fun to try anyway.
Julian didn't like to perform hasty diagnoses, but he was almost certain he had pulled at least three separate facial muscles. From the moment this Cardassian fellow had struck up a conversation at what had formerly been an excruciating post-show party, he hadn't stopped grinning like a fool and he was beginning to feel the effects. He also didn't care in the slightest. Who knew he would actually be grateful to Darlinda for suggesting this affair?
Though, thinking of which. . . .
"I'm so sorry," he said once his turn came in the conversation. "But I really should go find my date and—"
"Julian!"
He nearly dropped his long-emptied glass at the sudden volume right by his side, and his head jerked around. Despite having exclaimed his name at a truly uncharacteristic volume, his aforementioned date was boggling at . . . his discussion partner. In turn, the man was smiling away, seeming very pleased with himself.
"Yes . . . ?" he asked hesitantly. He was missing something, wasn't he?
The feeling only intensified when Darlinda ignored him in favour of holding out her hand for the other man to shake. "Darlinda Quirl, sir, um. I'm . . . so happy to meet you!"
. . . What in the world? Darlinda was quiet, efficient, and calm no matter the situation. That (and her incredible legs) had been what had prompted him to ask her out in the first place. What had happened to her?
"A pleasure," the Cardassian responded in not-quite-concealed amusement, and only then did Darlinda turn back to him.
"Julian, did you realize you've been talking with Elim Garak this entire time?" she didn't actually demand, but he had the sense he had failed some test all the same.
"No . . . ? We didn't get the chance to introduce ourselves—Dr. Julian Bashir," he belatedly added.
Garak shook his hand with a smile, and . . . did he hold it longer than he had Darlinda's? "Ah, a doctor? Then it seems we both do some stitching in our trades. How lovely to have something in common."
"Hardly since the Dark Ages . . . what?"
Darlinda was looking at him again, and back came that sense of failure.
"Julian, Elim Garak is the designer whose work we came to see in the first place. Remember?"
Oh damn. "He . . . ah, I was going to introduce you—I was!" he protested when Darlinda's brows pulled together.
"Doctor, might I borrow your padd?" Garak interrupted and Julian sent him a smile, all too grateful for the distraction.
"Yes, yes, of course." He slipped his personal reminder device from his pocket and handed it over. His fingers brushed against Garak's, and then the other man keyed in something.
"Thank you for a most entertaining conversation, Doctor." He held out the padd again; Julian took it. "And thank you, Ms. Quirl, for your support of my humble work. I hope we can meet again at another of these occasions."
"Ah, Garak?" Julian asked, looking up from the line of numbers that had been entered into his padd. "What is this?"
Garak smiled. "My transmission address."
He winked and threaded through the other partygoers, leaving both Julian and Darlinda to gape after him in the space he left behind.
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff
Rating & Warnings: G this part, PG-13 overall?
Words: 552 this part, ?? overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: This Cardassian fellow Julian has just met at a dull post-fashion show party is really very fascinating--but why does he make his date so flustered?
Author's Notes: This scenario is sort of loosely based on 24th-century canon--very loosely. It's not a prompt that interests me very much, so I didn't spend as much time as usual working out the details.
Instead, I took this as an opportunity to play around with the weird contradiction DS9's writers seem to have unintentionally introduced, wherein Bashir is a lovely human being but kind of an ass when it comes to dating. I'm not sure if I was able to keep that balance, but it was fun to try anyway.
Julian didn't like to perform hasty diagnoses, but he was almost certain he had pulled at least three separate facial muscles. From the moment this Cardassian fellow had struck up a conversation at what had formerly been an excruciating post-show party, he hadn't stopped grinning like a fool and he was beginning to feel the effects. He also didn't care in the slightest. Who knew he would actually be grateful to Darlinda for suggesting this affair?
Though, thinking of which. . . .
"I'm so sorry," he said once his turn came in the conversation. "But I really should go find my date and—"
"Julian!"
He nearly dropped his long-emptied glass at the sudden volume right by his side, and his head jerked around. Despite having exclaimed his name at a truly uncharacteristic volume, his aforementioned date was boggling at . . . his discussion partner. In turn, the man was smiling away, seeming very pleased with himself.
"Yes . . . ?" he asked hesitantly. He was missing something, wasn't he?
The feeling only intensified when Darlinda ignored him in favour of holding out her hand for the other man to shake. "Darlinda Quirl, sir, um. I'm . . . so happy to meet you!"
. . . What in the world? Darlinda was quiet, efficient, and calm no matter the situation. That (and her incredible legs) had been what had prompted him to ask her out in the first place. What had happened to her?
"A pleasure," the Cardassian responded in not-quite-concealed amusement, and only then did Darlinda turn back to him.
"Julian, did you realize you've been talking with Elim Garak this entire time?" she didn't actually demand, but he had the sense he had failed some test all the same.
"No . . . ? We didn't get the chance to introduce ourselves—Dr. Julian Bashir," he belatedly added.
Garak shook his hand with a smile, and . . . did he hold it longer than he had Darlinda's? "Ah, a doctor? Then it seems we both do some stitching in our trades. How lovely to have something in common."
"Hardly since the Dark Ages . . . what?"
Darlinda was looking at him again, and back came that sense of failure.
"Julian, Elim Garak is the designer whose work we came to see in the first place. Remember?"
Oh damn. "He . . . ah, I was going to introduce you—I was!" he protested when Darlinda's brows pulled together.
"Doctor, might I borrow your padd?" Garak interrupted and Julian sent him a smile, all too grateful for the distraction.
"Yes, yes, of course." He slipped his personal reminder device from his pocket and handed it over. His fingers brushed against Garak's, and then the other man keyed in something.
"Thank you for a most entertaining conversation, Doctor." He held out the padd again; Julian took it. "And thank you, Ms. Quirl, for your support of my humble work. I hope we can meet again at another of these occasions."
"Ah, Garak?" Julian asked, looking up from the line of numbers that had been entered into his padd. "What is this?"
Garak smiled. "My transmission address."
He winked and threaded through the other partygoers, leaving both Julian and Darlinda to gape after him in the space he left behind.
