DS9 - More cheesy tropes
Apr. 27th, 2013 03:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seikilosTitle: 30-Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge - 03. Anonymous Love Letters
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 this part, PG-13 overall?
Words: 816 this part, ?? overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: The moment the messages start, Julian knows it's going to be a dangerous shift.
Author's Notes: I am pretty sure this is not what was meant by "anonymous love letters." I am also pretty sure I don't care--I had way too much fun with this. Poor Julian.
". . . Bicaradine and not metorapan, standard dosage," Julian read out to the waiting nurse. He didn't bother to turn from the screen; he could already hear Carruthers set to work. He was a wonderfully reliable sort and Julian strongly hoped he'd be stationed on DS9 for a long time. He was particularly good at long and tedious tasks, which this one had been. Thankfully, it was nearly over.
With that cheerful thought in mind, Julian continued, "'And might I mention you'—"
He snapped his mouth shut just in time, for the next words on the screen, displayed in stark green letters, were: looked particularly handsome this morning.
He pulled in a long breath through his nose. So it was going to be that kind of day, then.
". . . Doctor?"
Julian smacked down on the controls; the message vanished. He then wheeled and fastened a warm smile to his face.
". . . Are doing a splendid job! Excellent work."
Carruthers went happily red and returned his smile with one that was far more sincere. "Thank you, Dr. Bashir!"
Julian turned back to the computer, flushed for a very different reason. There was no sense in being alert now—no more such messages would come for some time. It would only be when he relaxed that they would appear once more.
That moment wasn't for hours, when he was sunk in the depths of a report that was both deathly dull and only vaguely important. To be honest, it was tempting to pass it off to one of his subordinates, the way Commander Sisko passed off irritating diplomats to him . . . but that sort of attitude was not what had earned him top marks in his graduating class. No, he would simply have to struggle through.
This turned out to be the best decision he could have possibly made.
. . . administered a hypospray with the aforementioned medication. You know, Julian, I have plans for when you get off duty. Very thorough ones.
". . . Oh no."
He should just delete the message and get on with his work. If he wanted to maintain his concentration for the remainder of his shift, he really should delete those undoubtedly dangerous paragraphs. Nothing good could come of reading them when there were three hours left until he was done for the day.
. . . Of course he kept reading.
As thorough as only a Cardassian can be. I'm thinking . . . I just might take inspiration from the way you use that mouth of yours. You're very good with it, you know.
In addition, I've realised that I've SHAMEFULLY neglected the insides of your thighs.
His fingers tightened on the padd.
I have no idea how I've managed to do so for such a long time, but this oversight will have to be remedied. I'm going to learn every last square millimetre of your skin with my mouth—and, of course, my fingertips (did I mention I'm going to be thorough?) —and then, only then, I'll—
"Dr. Bashir?"
Julian actually squawked. His hands flew away from his padd and it clattered to the table, mercifully face down.
"Ye—" He cleared his throat, swallowed, and tried again at a far more normal pitch. "Yes, Doctor?"
Dr. Neesul lifted her eyebrows, but only said, "I'm sorry for startling you, sir. I just wanted you to know I've finished checking out the latest shipment of medicine and everything is in order. Is there anything else you need me to do?"
"No, that's—yes, actually." Julian retrieved his padd, stabbed the delete button to remove the addition to his report, and then entered "GARAK STOP." After turning off the screen, he handed over the padd. "If you could deliver this to Garak the tailor, I'd be very grateful."
Dr. Neesul's expression was completely blank. (Did everyone know about his romantic life now, or was it simply three-quarters of the station?) "Yes, sir."
She departed, and only then did Julian let out the breath he'd been holding and rub at his face. As relatively empty as the Infirmary currently was, it was still several minutes before he dared stand and bring his lap out from the shelter of the table.
Sometime later, Dr. Neesul returned and held out the padd. "I have a message from Mr. Garak, Doctor."
"What did he say?" he had to ask.
She kept even her body language neutral this time. "He laughed and keyed it in here."
Julian closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them reluctantly. Sadly, nothing had changed in the interim. "Thank you. That's all."
When he was sure she was busy elsewhere, along with everyone else, then and only then did Julian retrieve Garak's message:
See you after your shift.
. . . It was going to be a long two and a half hours.
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 this part, PG-13 overall?
Words: 816 this part, ?? overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: The moment the messages start, Julian knows it's going to be a dangerous shift.
Author's Notes: I am pretty sure this is not what was meant by "anonymous love letters." I am also pretty sure I don't care--I had way too much fun with this. Poor Julian.
". . . Bicaradine and not metorapan, standard dosage," Julian read out to the waiting nurse. He didn't bother to turn from the screen; he could already hear Carruthers set to work. He was a wonderfully reliable sort and Julian strongly hoped he'd be stationed on DS9 for a long time. He was particularly good at long and tedious tasks, which this one had been. Thankfully, it was nearly over.
With that cheerful thought in mind, Julian continued, "'And might I mention you'—"
He snapped his mouth shut just in time, for the next words on the screen, displayed in stark green letters, were: looked particularly handsome this morning.
He pulled in a long breath through his nose. So it was going to be that kind of day, then.
". . . Doctor?"
Julian smacked down on the controls; the message vanished. He then wheeled and fastened a warm smile to his face.
". . . Are doing a splendid job! Excellent work."
Carruthers went happily red and returned his smile with one that was far more sincere. "Thank you, Dr. Bashir!"
Julian turned back to the computer, flushed for a very different reason. There was no sense in being alert now—no more such messages would come for some time. It would only be when he relaxed that they would appear once more.
That moment wasn't for hours, when he was sunk in the depths of a report that was both deathly dull and only vaguely important. To be honest, it was tempting to pass it off to one of his subordinates, the way Commander Sisko passed off irritating diplomats to him . . . but that sort of attitude was not what had earned him top marks in his graduating class. No, he would simply have to struggle through.
This turned out to be the best decision he could have possibly made.
. . . administered a hypospray with the aforementioned medication. You know, Julian, I have plans for when you get off duty. Very thorough ones.
". . . Oh no."
He should just delete the message and get on with his work. If he wanted to maintain his concentration for the remainder of his shift, he really should delete those undoubtedly dangerous paragraphs. Nothing good could come of reading them when there were three hours left until he was done for the day.
. . . Of course he kept reading.
As thorough as only a Cardassian can be. I'm thinking . . . I just might take inspiration from the way you use that mouth of yours. You're very good with it, you know.
In addition, I've realised that I've SHAMEFULLY neglected the insides of your thighs.
His fingers tightened on the padd.
I have no idea how I've managed to do so for such a long time, but this oversight will have to be remedied. I'm going to learn every last square millimetre of your skin with my mouth—and, of course, my fingertips (did I mention I'm going to be thorough?) —and then, only then, I'll—
"Dr. Bashir?"
Julian actually squawked. His hands flew away from his padd and it clattered to the table, mercifully face down.
"Ye—" He cleared his throat, swallowed, and tried again at a far more normal pitch. "Yes, Doctor?"
Dr. Neesul lifted her eyebrows, but only said, "I'm sorry for startling you, sir. I just wanted you to know I've finished checking out the latest shipment of medicine and everything is in order. Is there anything else you need me to do?"
"No, that's—yes, actually." Julian retrieved his padd, stabbed the delete button to remove the addition to his report, and then entered "GARAK STOP." After turning off the screen, he handed over the padd. "If you could deliver this to Garak the tailor, I'd be very grateful."
Dr. Neesul's expression was completely blank. (Did everyone know about his romantic life now, or was it simply three-quarters of the station?) "Yes, sir."
She departed, and only then did Julian let out the breath he'd been holding and rub at his face. As relatively empty as the Infirmary currently was, it was still several minutes before he dared stand and bring his lap out from the shelter of the table.
Sometime later, Dr. Neesul returned and held out the padd. "I have a message from Mr. Garak, Doctor."
"What did he say?" he had to ask.
She kept even her body language neutral this time. "He laughed and keyed it in here."
Julian closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them reluctantly. Sadly, nothing had changed in the interim. "Thank you. That's all."
When he was sure she was busy elsewhere, along with everyone else, then and only then did Julian retrieve Garak's message:
See you after your shift.
. . . It was going to be a long two and a half hours.
