DD9 - The Christmas continues! [2/5]
Dec. 8th, 2013 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seikilosTitle: Summer Sun in Winter
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff/AU
Rating & Warnings: PG (references to sex, mild sexual content)
Words: This part 3524, appr. 14.5k overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Julian has spent the last six months working as a doctor at a hospital in Andor. Now he's home for the holidays, to the joy of all of his friends--but especially Garak. This chapter: Finishing Julian's welcome home and a visit to Deep Dish Nine.
Author's Notes: While I had originally envisioned this fic as having a tighter scope (and much fewer words), it was about now that more of the characters in the world of Deep Dish Nine started dropping by for a visit. Given I generally have a great time writing all of them, it wasn't much of a hardship to let them stay.
(2)
Garak wasn't one for staying in bed after he'd woken up (not unless it was one of the bad days), but this morning was an exception. It wasn't anything he had decided in advance to do. It was simply that he couldn't bring himself to leave his still-sleeping partner behind. Even the idea of surprising Julian with the sort of breakfast that certainly wasn't a part of the diet of a new and extremely busy doctor didn't have enough pull to drag him out of his arms just yet.
However, eventually, he was forced to leave the warmth of their bed. It was Wednesday, which meant he still needed to open his shop. As much as he'd cheerfully consign it to hell right now, he still needed some form of income. And given Julian was sleeping like a corpse (albeit one with an almighty snore), it seemed not at all likely he'd awaken before his shop was due to open.
He ended up making pancakes by hand and leaving Julian's share on the table covered with a clean dishcloth, along with a reminder that there were strawberries, blueberries, maple syrup, and, of course, butter in the fridge. He didn't include where he had gone in the note: given the time of day, Julian would know and he was the only one who needed that information.
He checked on Julian one last time before he left. He supposed he could have simply listened for the snores to determine whether his partner was still asleep, but . . . that wouldn't provide him with the excuse to take in the sight of Julian asleep in their bed.
He was lying in the same position Garak had left him. One arm was slung out, ready to curl around him, and oh, but it was a temptation. He was a temptation, his sheets-creased cheek, sticking-up hair and all. If Garak weren't so skilled at depriving himself, he would have given in.
But his shop awaited and so Garak left, cursing it all the way.
*
It was most of the way through the morning when his day made a decided departure from the mundane. He had been in the midst of a consultation with Mrs. Gowda, a new customer, over the final touches to a dress she'd commissioned for her company's Christmas party. Fortunately, it had been going very well. She was reasonable and level-headed and thus he had been spending every subtle means at his disposal to encourage her to come back.
Consequently, he barely looked up at the tinkling of the bell over his shop door—until, of course, he registered the newcomer not only as no threat, but the total opposite of a threat. Julian stood in the door, much more alert than the last time Garak had seen him, holding in each hand a paper cup from Janeway's.
Garak's heart gave a leap, but he was still able to say levelly, "I'll be with you as soon as I finish here."
Julian smiled, clearly amused; if Mrs. Gowda weren't such a good customer, Garak would have dumped her outside. "Of course. Take your time."
He did. It was a struggle, but as Julian wandered about the shop, he managed to wrap up the appointment without rushing or skipping any necessary parts. Mrs. Gowda thanked him for his time, and though it might have been his imagination, her smile was possibly shaded with indulgence as she left.
"Can I help you?" Garak asked Julian once the door had closed behind her.
This time, Julian's smile was beautifully sly. "Yes, I'm here to make a delivery of a hot chocolate for one Elim Garak. I was also hoping to have a private conference with him, provided there's room in his schedule."
Garak checked his watch and tried to pretend when he answered that all moisture hadn't just vanished from his mouth. "I have ten minutes before my next customer is due to arrive, but I believe I could fit you in."
"In that case, we had best get started."
Julian crossed the shop and set down the hot chocolate on the table used for meetings with customers; Garak removed his glasses and set them down next to the cups. Then, with remarkable control, they both walked into the back room and shut the door.
It was impossible to say who had reached for whom first, and it didn't matter one bit when the result would have been the same either way: Garak pushed up against the door, dragging Julian to him and their mouths hard against one another's.
Julian smelled, dizzyingly, of Garak's soap and shampoo. He kissed like a man deprived, just as Garak did, and if Garak hadn't had the door and Julian to support him, his knees would have given up on the spot.
"Why didn't you—mm, wake me?" Julian murmured between kisses.
Before the separation of their lips became unbearable, Garak managed, "Because I wasn't sure I could."
Julian broke off and rested his forehead against Garak's. "I don't sleep that soundly."
"You did last night."
Julian only kissed him again in response. Then his hand slid around to Garak's chest and his gaze flicked downward, speculative in a way that shot straight through him.
"Julian, I need to meet with a customer in five minutes," he half-warned, half-pleaded.
Julian lifted his eyes to Garak's once more. They were dark, and with his well-kissed lips, the sight was almost enough for Garak to cancel his appointment then and there. He'd never liked Mr. Turner anyway.
"All right," Julian said, his voice low, "but over the past six months I've saved up a very long list of things I want to do to you, and I intend to make an excellent start this evening."
Garak took in a sharp breath to steady himself, then raised an eyebrow. "Only if I don't get to my list first."
He was satisfied to see Julian's lips part at that. He leaned in for one last kiss before Julian stepped away and they both attempted to make themselves suitable for public viewing.
"I have to get some Christmas shopping done—shall I come back on your lunch break?"
"Please do." Garak smoothed down his hair; as always, Julian had made a mess of it. "I'll be ready for you in an hour and a half."
"All right, then." Julian smiled suddenly. "Why don't we go to Deep Dish Nine? I've been craving their pizza almost since I left."
"Very well, since it seems to be a day for indulging your cravings," Garak agreed with a lift of both eyebrows this time. Truthfully, it wouldn't have been his choice, but if he was being presented with the opportunity to give Julian something he wanted (and to make him flush still further), he was going to take it.
Julian ducked his head and smiled in the way that always left Garak utterly without defences, then said, "I should leave you to your customer and get to my shopping. Jadzia has been teasing me by saying that I'll be doing it all on Christmas Eve again, and I'd hate to prove her right."
"Then you'd best continue on your quest." He paused for effect, then added, "Or should that be start it?"
Julian pointedly didn't respond to the aspersions being cast. "See you for lunch, Elim," he said on his way out the door; Garak soon heard the ring of the bell at the front of his shop.
He smiled, caught sight of his expression in the mirror he kept for himself in the back room, and promptly tucked it away. By the time Mr. Turner arrived for his fitting, Garak was the picture of professionalism once more—even if, inwardly, he had gone to pieces in the best possible way.
*
When Julian returned for him slightly more than an hour and a half later, Garak was already dressed for the outdoors and waiting for him.
"How was your hunting?" Garak asked once they'd greeted each other (with a kiss—he had missed kissing). "Will Jadzia be laughing at you?"
"She had better not, given she's the only one I found anything for," Julian said glumly.
"Don't despair, my dear. You still have a week."
His only response was a sigh as they stepped outside. Garak locked up and placed the keys into the inside pocket of his coat. Their gloved fingers bumped, then laced through one another.
"I suppose you've had your Christmas shopping done since July," Julian said after a few moments of silent, contented walking.
"September, actually."
A sound of disgust. "Don't tell Jadzia. She'll have even more reason to tease me if she hears that."
"Perhaps I should tell her," Garak mused. "It would serve you right for sharing your secrets so carelessly."
Julian gave him a look. "Do that and you'll be sleeping on the couch the entire time I'm here."
"I'm the one who lives in the apartment year-round. How do you propose to do that?"
"Tell Jadzia and you'll find out."
They caught each other's eye and Garak gave his hand a light squeeze. Julian squeezed back; both their smiles widened.
When they stepped into Deep Dish Nine some minutes later, it was a surprisingly disorienting experience. Garak had eaten there a few times since Julian had left, on those days when he had felt the absence of a hand in his, though not so acutely that he would only be making matters worse by seeking out a place with so many memories. But mostly, his patronage had fallen to the wayside—his presence in the restaurant had only been guaranteed by Julian's.
Their usual seat was occupied, and so they ended up at their fallback seat. And in almost no time at all, Mr. Sisko's son was at their table, grinning away.
"Hey, Julian, welcome back! Should I be handing this over to you and getting out of your way?" Jake asked, offering his combination order sheet and writing notebook.
"Only if you don't mind me collecting your paycheque," Julian returned.
Not unexpectedly, the notebook was quickly pulled back to settle into its owner's grasp. Loss of income: the perfect threat for a university student.
Julian and Jake spend a few moments catching up, during which Garak searched for the healthiest selection on the menu. Already the explosion of holiday-related sweets had been making its presence known in unfortunate ways, meaning it was time to compensate in the other parts of his diet.
He waited for a gap in the conversation to insert his order. Once he had, it reminded Julian to follow suit, and shortly thereafter, Jake was on his way back to the kitchen.
"Hm, Worf and Kira are currently on shift? You're in for a warm welcome," Garak remarked; the information had been one piece of many Jake had sent Julian's way.
"There's Ezri, too," Julian reminded him. He squinted about. "Actually, I'm surprised she's not—"
"Julian!"
Garak suppressed a chuckle as the younger Dax sibling bubbled her way over to the table with a pitcher of water and two glasses. It became significantly more difficult not to express his amusement when she followed up her enthusiastic greeting with a guilty little glance his way. "Oh, um, hi, Garak." He was then completely forgotten. "I hope you weren't too hungover from the eggnog last night. I told Jadzia to ease up on the brandy but you know her." She gave a nervous little laugh. "She always likes to live dangerously."
"No, I can't say that I was," Julian reassured her. "If anything, the brandy helped knock me out so I didn't stay up too late."
"It's possible he would be asleep yet without it," Garak put in.
"Garak. . . ."
"Well, we wouldn't want that." Ezri fumbled a plastic glass, then stood it upright. "Oh, um, Jadzia is throwing a Christmas party this Friday night. She told me to invite you—both of you—if she didn't see you first."
"That's a bit late for her. She didn't hold it up until I got back, did she?" Julian asked.
"She did, actually. She said it just wouldn't be the same without you."
"She didn't need to do that," he mumbled, managing to look touched in spite of an embarrassed shoulder-hunch. He took a moment to tamp down his embarrassment by sipping from his newly filled glass. When he set the glass down, he answered more normally, "Well, tell Jadzia we'd be happy to come—" He stopped himself to dart a glance at Garak, sheepish.
Garak smiled. "Yes, we would both be happy to come."
"Great! I'll let her know. It starts at 8:30 and goes until god knows."
"Isn't it delightful to have traditions?" Julian said dryly, getting a laugh from Ezri.
"The best," she agreed. "It was great seeing you again, Julian—and you too, Garak. Text me when you have some free time, all right? I could do with a partner while I finish my shopping."
"How do you know I'm not already done?" Julian asked, affronted.
Ezri just shook her head. "See you later!"
"Is it that obvious I'm a last-minute shopper?" Julian demanded once Ezri had left.
"I'm afraid so." Garak reached out and patted his hand; Julian glared at him. "But, if I may provide you with a small measure of consolation: at least you aren't Mr. O'Brien."
Julian sighed. "Yes, at least I don't shop on Christmas Eve every year." A grimace. "Just a lot of them."
"How many is 'a lot,' might I ask?"
"Enough."
*
Their meal arrived after not very long at all, or so it seemed to Garak. (Of course, any time spent with Julian seemed regrettably brief.) The food was better then he remembered, although no doubt that was because he was no longer constantly eating it. He had partaken of far more meals here he'd particularly wanted to when he and Julian had been courting; overexposure could make any diet unpalatable.
When they went to the register to pay, Kira greeted them—or rather, Julian—with a large smile.
"Julian, welcome back! It's good to see you."
"It's good to see you too, Nerys," Julian answered, his smile just as full.
How matters had changed between the two of them. Garak remembered very well Julian's initially fruitless attempts to make friends with Kira; it hadn't been until a few months before he had left for Andor that they had paid off. And now, it seemed, absence had done more still to raise Kira's opinion of him.
Her smile faded surprisingly little when she turned to him next. "Garak."
He bowed slightly. "Ms. Kira. You look well."
"Yes, very much so. What have you been doing these last few months?" Julian added.
"Working, mostly," Kira answered as she handed Julian his receipt (which was immediately crunched into a coat pocket) and began ringing up Garak's transaction. "Benjamin and I have been finalising making me co-owner of Deep Dish Nine, so I've been spending most of my free time here."
Julian lit up and even Garak found himself smiling in genuine pleasure on her behalf.
"That's wonderful news—congratulations!"
"Your success is well deserved," Garak added.
"Thank you," she said, looking happier than Garak had ever seen her. She held out Garak's receipt, which he took and folded tidily. "You should stop by and say hi to Worf—he's in the kitchen. He's missed you a lot."
Julian stopped halfway through stepping around the counter. "Worf has?"
"That's right." A look of mischief actually crossed Kira's face. "But you'll never get him to admit it."
"Will wonders never cease," Garak said on a chuckle, then followed Julian into the kitchen.
Garak had only been in Deep Dish Nine's kitchen on a few occasions—certainly not often enough to feel the same ease as Julian while stepping into an area clearly not intended for the general public. (Out of habit, he feigned an air of belonging anyway.) Despite his relative unfamiliarity with the place, even he had to smile at the sense of rightness when they found Worf in precisely the same place as always. He still wore the same pair of high quality sound-cancelling headphones, meticulously maintained, and if Garak listened carefully, beneath the noise of vegetables being chopped and the hum of the ovens, he could hear the soft bass rumble of German opera being sung.
"Worf!" Julian called as they approached, as uselessly as always.
It wasn't until they arrived in Worf's peripheral vision that there was a reaction, and that reaction proved Kira right: Worf stopped singing, set down his knife, pressed pause on his mp3 player, and removed his headphones. His features even relaxed into what, just possibly, might have been a smile. Garak couldn't be certain, since he had nothing to compare it with, but it was an actual possibility. Would wonders never cease indeed.
"Julian. Welcome back," Worf said. He glanced to where Garak was standing behind his partner, and every ounce of charitable feeling in his expression was immediately locked away. (It really was delightful to have traditions in one's life, as Julian had said.)
Julian's smile, in contrast with Worf's, was much more evident. "Hello, Worf. It's good to see you. How have you been?"
Worf picked up his knife and resumed chopping his green peppers. He did not, however, turn on his music. "I have been well. Thank you for your concern. I trust matters have been satisfactory in Andor."
Julian leaned on the counter. "Yes, you might say that. Busy, but . . . satisfactory, all in all. Are you going to Jadzia's party on Friday?" While it was difficult for Garak to see his face at his current angle, from the impish note that had turned up in Julian's voice, he could guess at his expression.
Worf set down his knife. Garak could see his sigh in his entire body as, with great patience, he answered, "Yes. I am going to Jadzia's party."
At this point, Garak simply couldn't resist putting in, "How nice! I'll be attending as well—we'll have to share a few drinks together."
Worf scowled. "We will do no such thing. Approach at your own risk."
Julian stepped into Worf's sightline, putting himself between the other man and Garak. It was a gallant move, and one Garak could appreciate on a certain level—but mostly he thought that Julian was being amazingly foolish if he believed that his slender body would even slow Worf down.
"It's all right, Worf, he's only joking." Julian turned just long enough to send a silent "You'd better be" his way before facing Worf again. "I'm glad you're coming this year. It'll be good to have you. Jadzia's parties are always a wonderful time."
"We shall see," was all Worf said. He returned to his chopping with the sort of focus that suggested he had finished socialising now.
Julian stuck his hands in his pockets; Garak could hear the clink-clink-clink of keys being fidgeted with. "Well, ah, have a good day. We'll—I'll be seeing you around."
Garak noted that correction with a smile. Julian had just highlighted Garak's presence instead of concealing it. And rather than help his partner, Garak chose to further draw attention to himself: "I'll see you at the party, Mr. Worf."
Worf directed a thunderous look at Julian. His fingers tightened on the knife handle. "Get him out of the kitchen."
"Come on, Garak, your lunch break is almost over." Julian took him by the arm and steered him toward the door.
"You can tell the time without consulting a clock? What a tremendously useful talent," Garak replied, but allowed himself to be guided all the same. Despite his fondness for pushing certain members of Deep Dish Nine's staff, Garak had always been careful not to cross the line that would result in being banned from the restaurant. After years of maintaining his balance, he wasn't about to stumble now.
And so, choosing prudence, he and Julian went back into the grey-skied afternoon.
*
Julian walked with him back to his shop, where they arrived minutes before he was due to reopen. He returned at the end of the day and waited as Garak tidied up (rather more perfunctorily than usual) and locked up (just as meticulously as usual). Then they drove home together in Garak's car; though the distance between his shop and their apartment was short, he wasn't about to spend any more time outside than was absolutely necessary at this time of year.
And then, at last, once they'd had a supper consisting of Julian's favourite dishes, they made love. It was, of course, better than Garak had imagined. After, his senses filled with Julian, together they dozed, luxuriated in the simple pleasure of being wrapped up in a blanket and each other, and made love again.
Before sleep slowed his mind that night, Garak soaked in every last detail of their evening and pressed them into his memory. In the months until Julian's return, during the grey trudge of winter, he wanted something to look to for warmth. This would most certainly provide it.
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff/AU
Rating & Warnings: PG (references to sex, mild sexual content)
Words: This part 3524, appr. 14.5k overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Julian has spent the last six months working as a doctor at a hospital in Andor. Now he's home for the holidays, to the joy of all of his friends--but especially Garak. This chapter: Finishing Julian's welcome home and a visit to Deep Dish Nine.
Author's Notes: While I had originally envisioned this fic as having a tighter scope (and much fewer words), it was about now that more of the characters in the world of Deep Dish Nine started dropping by for a visit. Given I generally have a great time writing all of them, it wasn't much of a hardship to let them stay.
Garak wasn't one for staying in bed after he'd woken up (not unless it was one of the bad days), but this morning was an exception. It wasn't anything he had decided in advance to do. It was simply that he couldn't bring himself to leave his still-sleeping partner behind. Even the idea of surprising Julian with the sort of breakfast that certainly wasn't a part of the diet of a new and extremely busy doctor didn't have enough pull to drag him out of his arms just yet.
However, eventually, he was forced to leave the warmth of their bed. It was Wednesday, which meant he still needed to open his shop. As much as he'd cheerfully consign it to hell right now, he still needed some form of income. And given Julian was sleeping like a corpse (albeit one with an almighty snore), it seemed not at all likely he'd awaken before his shop was due to open.
He ended up making pancakes by hand and leaving Julian's share on the table covered with a clean dishcloth, along with a reminder that there were strawberries, blueberries, maple syrup, and, of course, butter in the fridge. He didn't include where he had gone in the note: given the time of day, Julian would know and he was the only one who needed that information.
He checked on Julian one last time before he left. He supposed he could have simply listened for the snores to determine whether his partner was still asleep, but . . . that wouldn't provide him with the excuse to take in the sight of Julian asleep in their bed.
He was lying in the same position Garak had left him. One arm was slung out, ready to curl around him, and oh, but it was a temptation. He was a temptation, his sheets-creased cheek, sticking-up hair and all. If Garak weren't so skilled at depriving himself, he would have given in.
But his shop awaited and so Garak left, cursing it all the way.
It was most of the way through the morning when his day made a decided departure from the mundane. He had been in the midst of a consultation with Mrs. Gowda, a new customer, over the final touches to a dress she'd commissioned for her company's Christmas party. Fortunately, it had been going very well. She was reasonable and level-headed and thus he had been spending every subtle means at his disposal to encourage her to come back.
Consequently, he barely looked up at the tinkling of the bell over his shop door—until, of course, he registered the newcomer not only as no threat, but the total opposite of a threat. Julian stood in the door, much more alert than the last time Garak had seen him, holding in each hand a paper cup from Janeway's.
Garak's heart gave a leap, but he was still able to say levelly, "I'll be with you as soon as I finish here."
Julian smiled, clearly amused; if Mrs. Gowda weren't such a good customer, Garak would have dumped her outside. "Of course. Take your time."
He did. It was a struggle, but as Julian wandered about the shop, he managed to wrap up the appointment without rushing or skipping any necessary parts. Mrs. Gowda thanked him for his time, and though it might have been his imagination, her smile was possibly shaded with indulgence as she left.
"Can I help you?" Garak asked Julian once the door had closed behind her.
This time, Julian's smile was beautifully sly. "Yes, I'm here to make a delivery of a hot chocolate for one Elim Garak. I was also hoping to have a private conference with him, provided there's room in his schedule."
Garak checked his watch and tried to pretend when he answered that all moisture hadn't just vanished from his mouth. "I have ten minutes before my next customer is due to arrive, but I believe I could fit you in."
"In that case, we had best get started."
Julian crossed the shop and set down the hot chocolate on the table used for meetings with customers; Garak removed his glasses and set them down next to the cups. Then, with remarkable control, they both walked into the back room and shut the door.
It was impossible to say who had reached for whom first, and it didn't matter one bit when the result would have been the same either way: Garak pushed up against the door, dragging Julian to him and their mouths hard against one another's.
Julian smelled, dizzyingly, of Garak's soap and shampoo. He kissed like a man deprived, just as Garak did, and if Garak hadn't had the door and Julian to support him, his knees would have given up on the spot.
"Why didn't you—mm, wake me?" Julian murmured between kisses.
Before the separation of their lips became unbearable, Garak managed, "Because I wasn't sure I could."
Julian broke off and rested his forehead against Garak's. "I don't sleep that soundly."
"You did last night."
Julian only kissed him again in response. Then his hand slid around to Garak's chest and his gaze flicked downward, speculative in a way that shot straight through him.
"Julian, I need to meet with a customer in five minutes," he half-warned, half-pleaded.
Julian lifted his eyes to Garak's once more. They were dark, and with his well-kissed lips, the sight was almost enough for Garak to cancel his appointment then and there. He'd never liked Mr. Turner anyway.
"All right," Julian said, his voice low, "but over the past six months I've saved up a very long list of things I want to do to you, and I intend to make an excellent start this evening."
Garak took in a sharp breath to steady himself, then raised an eyebrow. "Only if I don't get to my list first."
He was satisfied to see Julian's lips part at that. He leaned in for one last kiss before Julian stepped away and they both attempted to make themselves suitable for public viewing.
"I have to get some Christmas shopping done—shall I come back on your lunch break?"
"Please do." Garak smoothed down his hair; as always, Julian had made a mess of it. "I'll be ready for you in an hour and a half."
"All right, then." Julian smiled suddenly. "Why don't we go to Deep Dish Nine? I've been craving their pizza almost since I left."
"Very well, since it seems to be a day for indulging your cravings," Garak agreed with a lift of both eyebrows this time. Truthfully, it wouldn't have been his choice, but if he was being presented with the opportunity to give Julian something he wanted (and to make him flush still further), he was going to take it.
Julian ducked his head and smiled in the way that always left Garak utterly without defences, then said, "I should leave you to your customer and get to my shopping. Jadzia has been teasing me by saying that I'll be doing it all on Christmas Eve again, and I'd hate to prove her right."
"Then you'd best continue on your quest." He paused for effect, then added, "Or should that be start it?"
Julian pointedly didn't respond to the aspersions being cast. "See you for lunch, Elim," he said on his way out the door; Garak soon heard the ring of the bell at the front of his shop.
He smiled, caught sight of his expression in the mirror he kept for himself in the back room, and promptly tucked it away. By the time Mr. Turner arrived for his fitting, Garak was the picture of professionalism once more—even if, inwardly, he had gone to pieces in the best possible way.
When Julian returned for him slightly more than an hour and a half later, Garak was already dressed for the outdoors and waiting for him.
"How was your hunting?" Garak asked once they'd greeted each other (with a kiss—he had missed kissing). "Will Jadzia be laughing at you?"
"She had better not, given she's the only one I found anything for," Julian said glumly.
"Don't despair, my dear. You still have a week."
His only response was a sigh as they stepped outside. Garak locked up and placed the keys into the inside pocket of his coat. Their gloved fingers bumped, then laced through one another.
"I suppose you've had your Christmas shopping done since July," Julian said after a few moments of silent, contented walking.
"September, actually."
A sound of disgust. "Don't tell Jadzia. She'll have even more reason to tease me if she hears that."
"Perhaps I should tell her," Garak mused. "It would serve you right for sharing your secrets so carelessly."
Julian gave him a look. "Do that and you'll be sleeping on the couch the entire time I'm here."
"I'm the one who lives in the apartment year-round. How do you propose to do that?"
"Tell Jadzia and you'll find out."
They caught each other's eye and Garak gave his hand a light squeeze. Julian squeezed back; both their smiles widened.
When they stepped into Deep Dish Nine some minutes later, it was a surprisingly disorienting experience. Garak had eaten there a few times since Julian had left, on those days when he had felt the absence of a hand in his, though not so acutely that he would only be making matters worse by seeking out a place with so many memories. But mostly, his patronage had fallen to the wayside—his presence in the restaurant had only been guaranteed by Julian's.
Their usual seat was occupied, and so they ended up at their fallback seat. And in almost no time at all, Mr. Sisko's son was at their table, grinning away.
"Hey, Julian, welcome back! Should I be handing this over to you and getting out of your way?" Jake asked, offering his combination order sheet and writing notebook.
"Only if you don't mind me collecting your paycheque," Julian returned.
Not unexpectedly, the notebook was quickly pulled back to settle into its owner's grasp. Loss of income: the perfect threat for a university student.
Julian and Jake spend a few moments catching up, during which Garak searched for the healthiest selection on the menu. Already the explosion of holiday-related sweets had been making its presence known in unfortunate ways, meaning it was time to compensate in the other parts of his diet.
He waited for a gap in the conversation to insert his order. Once he had, it reminded Julian to follow suit, and shortly thereafter, Jake was on his way back to the kitchen.
"Hm, Worf and Kira are currently on shift? You're in for a warm welcome," Garak remarked; the information had been one piece of many Jake had sent Julian's way.
"There's Ezri, too," Julian reminded him. He squinted about. "Actually, I'm surprised she's not—"
"Julian!"
Garak suppressed a chuckle as the younger Dax sibling bubbled her way over to the table with a pitcher of water and two glasses. It became significantly more difficult not to express his amusement when she followed up her enthusiastic greeting with a guilty little glance his way. "Oh, um, hi, Garak." He was then completely forgotten. "I hope you weren't too hungover from the eggnog last night. I told Jadzia to ease up on the brandy but you know her." She gave a nervous little laugh. "She always likes to live dangerously."
"No, I can't say that I was," Julian reassured her. "If anything, the brandy helped knock me out so I didn't stay up too late."
"It's possible he would be asleep yet without it," Garak put in.
"Garak. . . ."
"Well, we wouldn't want that." Ezri fumbled a plastic glass, then stood it upright. "Oh, um, Jadzia is throwing a Christmas party this Friday night. She told me to invite you—both of you—if she didn't see you first."
"That's a bit late for her. She didn't hold it up until I got back, did she?" Julian asked.
"She did, actually. She said it just wouldn't be the same without you."
"She didn't need to do that," he mumbled, managing to look touched in spite of an embarrassed shoulder-hunch. He took a moment to tamp down his embarrassment by sipping from his newly filled glass. When he set the glass down, he answered more normally, "Well, tell Jadzia we'd be happy to come—" He stopped himself to dart a glance at Garak, sheepish.
Garak smiled. "Yes, we would both be happy to come."
"Great! I'll let her know. It starts at 8:30 and goes until god knows."
"Isn't it delightful to have traditions?" Julian said dryly, getting a laugh from Ezri.
"The best," she agreed. "It was great seeing you again, Julian—and you too, Garak. Text me when you have some free time, all right? I could do with a partner while I finish my shopping."
"How do you know I'm not already done?" Julian asked, affronted.
Ezri just shook her head. "See you later!"
"Is it that obvious I'm a last-minute shopper?" Julian demanded once Ezri had left.
"I'm afraid so." Garak reached out and patted his hand; Julian glared at him. "But, if I may provide you with a small measure of consolation: at least you aren't Mr. O'Brien."
Julian sighed. "Yes, at least I don't shop on Christmas Eve every year." A grimace. "Just a lot of them."
"How many is 'a lot,' might I ask?"
"Enough."
Their meal arrived after not very long at all, or so it seemed to Garak. (Of course, any time spent with Julian seemed regrettably brief.) The food was better then he remembered, although no doubt that was because he was no longer constantly eating it. He had partaken of far more meals here he'd particularly wanted to when he and Julian had been courting; overexposure could make any diet unpalatable.
When they went to the register to pay, Kira greeted them—or rather, Julian—with a large smile.
"Julian, welcome back! It's good to see you."
"It's good to see you too, Nerys," Julian answered, his smile just as full.
How matters had changed between the two of them. Garak remembered very well Julian's initially fruitless attempts to make friends with Kira; it hadn't been until a few months before he had left for Andor that they had paid off. And now, it seemed, absence had done more still to raise Kira's opinion of him.
Her smile faded surprisingly little when she turned to him next. "Garak."
He bowed slightly. "Ms. Kira. You look well."
"Yes, very much so. What have you been doing these last few months?" Julian added.
"Working, mostly," Kira answered as she handed Julian his receipt (which was immediately crunched into a coat pocket) and began ringing up Garak's transaction. "Benjamin and I have been finalising making me co-owner of Deep Dish Nine, so I've been spending most of my free time here."
Julian lit up and even Garak found himself smiling in genuine pleasure on her behalf.
"That's wonderful news—congratulations!"
"Your success is well deserved," Garak added.
"Thank you," she said, looking happier than Garak had ever seen her. She held out Garak's receipt, which he took and folded tidily. "You should stop by and say hi to Worf—he's in the kitchen. He's missed you a lot."
Julian stopped halfway through stepping around the counter. "Worf has?"
"That's right." A look of mischief actually crossed Kira's face. "But you'll never get him to admit it."
"Will wonders never cease," Garak said on a chuckle, then followed Julian into the kitchen.
Garak had only been in Deep Dish Nine's kitchen on a few occasions—certainly not often enough to feel the same ease as Julian while stepping into an area clearly not intended for the general public. (Out of habit, he feigned an air of belonging anyway.) Despite his relative unfamiliarity with the place, even he had to smile at the sense of rightness when they found Worf in precisely the same place as always. He still wore the same pair of high quality sound-cancelling headphones, meticulously maintained, and if Garak listened carefully, beneath the noise of vegetables being chopped and the hum of the ovens, he could hear the soft bass rumble of German opera being sung.
"Worf!" Julian called as they approached, as uselessly as always.
It wasn't until they arrived in Worf's peripheral vision that there was a reaction, and that reaction proved Kira right: Worf stopped singing, set down his knife, pressed pause on his mp3 player, and removed his headphones. His features even relaxed into what, just possibly, might have been a smile. Garak couldn't be certain, since he had nothing to compare it with, but it was an actual possibility. Would wonders never cease indeed.
"Julian. Welcome back," Worf said. He glanced to where Garak was standing behind his partner, and every ounce of charitable feeling in his expression was immediately locked away. (It really was delightful to have traditions in one's life, as Julian had said.)
Julian's smile, in contrast with Worf's, was much more evident. "Hello, Worf. It's good to see you. How have you been?"
Worf picked up his knife and resumed chopping his green peppers. He did not, however, turn on his music. "I have been well. Thank you for your concern. I trust matters have been satisfactory in Andor."
Julian leaned on the counter. "Yes, you might say that. Busy, but . . . satisfactory, all in all. Are you going to Jadzia's party on Friday?" While it was difficult for Garak to see his face at his current angle, from the impish note that had turned up in Julian's voice, he could guess at his expression.
Worf set down his knife. Garak could see his sigh in his entire body as, with great patience, he answered, "Yes. I am going to Jadzia's party."
At this point, Garak simply couldn't resist putting in, "How nice! I'll be attending as well—we'll have to share a few drinks together."
Worf scowled. "We will do no such thing. Approach at your own risk."
Julian stepped into Worf's sightline, putting himself between the other man and Garak. It was a gallant move, and one Garak could appreciate on a certain level—but mostly he thought that Julian was being amazingly foolish if he believed that his slender body would even slow Worf down.
"It's all right, Worf, he's only joking." Julian turned just long enough to send a silent "You'd better be" his way before facing Worf again. "I'm glad you're coming this year. It'll be good to have you. Jadzia's parties are always a wonderful time."
"We shall see," was all Worf said. He returned to his chopping with the sort of focus that suggested he had finished socialising now.
Julian stuck his hands in his pockets; Garak could hear the clink-clink-clink of keys being fidgeted with. "Well, ah, have a good day. We'll—I'll be seeing you around."
Garak noted that correction with a smile. Julian had just highlighted Garak's presence instead of concealing it. And rather than help his partner, Garak chose to further draw attention to himself: "I'll see you at the party, Mr. Worf."
Worf directed a thunderous look at Julian. His fingers tightened on the knife handle. "Get him out of the kitchen."
"Come on, Garak, your lunch break is almost over." Julian took him by the arm and steered him toward the door.
"You can tell the time without consulting a clock? What a tremendously useful talent," Garak replied, but allowed himself to be guided all the same. Despite his fondness for pushing certain members of Deep Dish Nine's staff, Garak had always been careful not to cross the line that would result in being banned from the restaurant. After years of maintaining his balance, he wasn't about to stumble now.
And so, choosing prudence, he and Julian went back into the grey-skied afternoon.
Julian walked with him back to his shop, where they arrived minutes before he was due to reopen. He returned at the end of the day and waited as Garak tidied up (rather more perfunctorily than usual) and locked up (just as meticulously as usual). Then they drove home together in Garak's car; though the distance between his shop and their apartment was short, he wasn't about to spend any more time outside than was absolutely necessary at this time of year.
And then, at last, once they'd had a supper consisting of Julian's favourite dishes, they made love. It was, of course, better than Garak had imagined. After, his senses filled with Julian, together they dozed, luxuriated in the simple pleasure of being wrapped up in a blanket and each other, and made love again.
Before sleep slowed his mind that night, Garak soaked in every last detail of their evening and pressed them into his memory. In the months until Julian's return, during the grey trudge of winter, he wanted something to look to for warmth. This would most certainly provide it.
