DS9 - Cheesy Tropes continue!
Jan. 10th, 2014 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seikilosTitle: 30-Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge - 9. Matching Soulmate Markings
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Romance
Rating & Warnings: PG (alcohol)
Words: 1599 this part, ?? overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Julian has decided to at last take the big step of showing Elim his soulmark, but what's supposed to be a straightforward relationship event...isn't.
Author's Notes: I actually knew very little about this trope and had to look it up when I arrived at this point on the list. I then proceeded to NOPE pretty hard about it, particularly after a series of discussions with bendingsignpost about all the many unfortunate implications a trope like this has.
Actually, this is my second version of the fic. My first time through, I tried to eliminate as many of the aforementioned unfortunate implications as I could, but when I came back to what I had written after leaving it for a while, I realised that I'd only gotten rid of some of them and the result was still creepy. I'm pretty sure I've missed still more unfortunate implications in this rewrite (and sometimes Julian's thought processes don't help), but given the problematic nature of the trope, I figure there's only so much I can do.
So with that enthusiastic introduction...enjoy the fic?
Dessert was long finished, there was barely a sip of wine left in his glass, and Julian was running out of time.
He was a complete wreck. He'd hardly eaten a thing and he'd sweated through his best shirt. For once, Elim's wonderful company was doing nothing to calm him. On the contrary, the longer he spent with his partner, the more pieces he fell to.
He had to find out and it had to be that night. No, it had to be now. Now . . . now.
"Julian."
Julian's hand jerked and, oh, nice work, there went the remainder of his wine all over the tablecloth.
The next few moments were spent blotting up the mercifully small mess; by the time Julian was ready to respond, his face was very flushed indeed.
"Yes, Elim?" he tried to ask normally.
Elim was smiling at him, his head tilted just slightly to one side. "You've seemed preoccupied tonight. Is something the matter?"
"No, no." He took in a breath. "No, it's just. . . ."
He could hear his heart pounding in his head and he truly hoped he wouldn't finish off his humiliation by passing out before he could say another word. It took the greatest of will, but he managed to unstick his tongue from his mouth and force himself to say, "I wanted to show you my . . . my mark."
At once, he had Elim's complete attention; he had never before seen a look so sharp on his partner's face.
"Do you?" He smiled, but for once, the expression seemed perfunctory, lacking his usual good humour. "I'm honoured."
Julian swallowed, then pushed back his sleeve and held out his forearm. "Here."
The soulmark wasn't much to look at, truthfully. It wasn't a clear, defined shape like some—a shooting star, a rose, a heart—but more of a muddle, really. As a child, he'd thought it looked like a tree, but . . . no, it didn't really look like anything.
Except to Elim, who was staring at it with widened eyes and a growing expression of elation.
"It's the same?" Julian asked on a croak, but that little embarrassment didn't matter now, not at all, not even a little.
"The very same," Elim answered—breathed, more like.
It might not mean anything, the fearful part of him said, trying to drag down his rising happiness. Remember your genetic engineering. Remember what the doctors told your parents—remember what your parents told you.
He refused to listen. Not here, not now, he was not going to have this moment taken from him.
He reached out and seized Elim's hand, perhaps too tightly. "Can I see it?"
"Not in a public place, my dear, unless you really do want to make this a night to remember," Elim told him.
He laughed, too loudly and too much, but he didn't care. He lowered his voice. "Then let's go to a private place."
"I'd love to, but . . . there's the matter of that client I told you about. I'm afraid I need to leave you here." He leaned forward with an intense look that made their public table as intimate as a bedroom. "But tomorrow. . . ."
Julian leaned in as well, unable and unwilling to resist. "Yes—tomorrow will certainly be different."
They rose, already acting as one, and Elim kissed him, right in front of the entire restaurant. Applause sounded around them—the nearby tables must have heard the whole thing—but Julian didn't take his eyes from Elim's face for a moment.
"Until then."
He left after that, and Julian watched every last step he took with a determinedly light heart.
*
His heart wasn't nearly so light once he had returned to the silence of his apartment. He made it only a few steps inside before he simply could no longer move.
Elim might have the same soulmark, but he wouldn't be intended for Julian Bashir, would he? Not when Jules Bashir was his true match.
His legs abruptly became too weak to support him. He dropped to the floor and covered his face. Back at the restaurant, he'd wanted to believe their matching marks had meant something, that they truly were each other's soulmates. There was still hope: the doctors didn't know for certain the impact his radical genetic engineering would have on his soulmark. After all, how could they study the effects of an illegal surgery? It could be that even if he had been fundamentally changed, his true match would remain the same.
But could he really take the chance of binding Elim to someone who wasn't his soulmate?
Why was he even asking himself such a ridiculous question?
He dragged himself up from the floor and forced himself to his bedroom. It was much earlier than he usually went to sleep, but at this point, it was either go to bed or finish off the rest of the alcohol in the fridge. And the last thing he wanted was a hangover to interfere with driving away the man he loved, soulmate or not, forever.
He spent a long time staring at his arm before he shoved it under a pillow and made a useless attempt at sleep.
*
"My dear, what in the world is the matter?" were Elim's first words to him. Why he'd thought he could hide anything from his partner was beyond him.
He shook his head. "Come in and sit down. We need to talk."
"Of course. Whatever you wish."
Elim reached out to touch him, to comfort him, but Julian stepped away. The sight of Elim pausing and then returning his hand to his side was one more blow to bear.
Once he was sitting opposite Elim, himself on the couch and his partner in the chair, he didn't hesitate. Doing this any way but bluntly would make him lose his nerve beyond recovery.
He looked Elim straight in his beautiful blue eyes and said, "I may not be your soulmate."
Elim blinked at him, once, twice, three times. "And what could possibly make you believe such a thing?"
He had to keep looking at Elim. He owed him at least that. "You've heard about my genetic enhancements. Well, one of the little problems with illegal surgeries is there's very little research done into side effects, particularly side effects involving soulmarks. It could be, despite everything that was done to me, that there are no side effects at all. It could be that my mark has been made completely useless. I don't know. But ever since I learned what my parents had done to me, I've had to live with the knowledge that if I use my soulmark as a guide, I'm taking the chance of trapping an innocent person into a false marriage."
He bit down on his lip for a moment. The discomfort was enough to push him forward to say, "I can't do that to you, Elim. I can't keep the truth from you. You have the right to know what you're getting into."
There had been a great many reactions he had been expecting from Elim, most of them negative. None of them had included laughter. And yet there Elim sat, a hand over his face, shaking with it.
". . . Elim?" Had he somehow sent his partner into hysterics?
"Oh my dear, dear Julian." Elim lifted his hand from his face. "And here I was coming to lay a confession of my own at your feet."
His mouth fell open. He couldn't manage to shut it. "You . . . a confession?"
"That's right." He left his chair to join him on the couch and take up his hands. "I lied to you in the restaurant. Our soulmarks don't bear the slightest resemblance. I hardly wished to advertise such a fact, however, when it didn't matter to me." He pressed Julian's hands. "Mark or no mark, genetic engineering or otherwise, my heart is only yours."
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even say which emotion had jammed up his chest and was making him shake. "But—your soulmate—"
"If they truly are my perfect match, they'll love me enough to let me go."
It was heresy, sacrilege of the most shocking kind. It was true he'd always sympathised with the dissidents, with those who fought the soulmarks to choose their own fate, but it was one thing to sympathise and another to be one of them.
"Will you stay with me, even knowing the truth?" Elim asked.
Julian didn't speak right away. He tightened his fingers around Elim's, tried to read past the image Elim was projecting—but he wasn't projecting anything right now, was he? Elim was being sincere. And . . . he was pleading, with the strength of his grip and the growing uncertainty of his expression.
To ignore his soulmark would be to go against what he'd been told all his life, even after his surgery had perhaps rendered the mark useless. It wasn't right. It was unnatural.
But, then again. . . .
"I will," he said, his mouth dry.
The warmth of Elim's joy evaporated most of his uncertainties. It was incredible: he couldn't remember ever seeing a smile so beautiful on his partner's face. Elim leaned forward, and so did Julian, and he had time for only one last thought:
To disregard one's soulmark was unnatural. But then again, so was he. It was time for him to seize control of that, to go against the order of things in a way that brought him—and Elim—love and happiness.
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Romance
Rating & Warnings: PG (alcohol)
Words: 1599 this part, ?? overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Julian has decided to at last take the big step of showing Elim his soulmark, but what's supposed to be a straightforward relationship event...isn't.
Author's Notes: I actually knew very little about this trope and had to look it up when I arrived at this point on the list. I then proceeded to NOPE pretty hard about it, particularly after a series of discussions with bendingsignpost about all the many unfortunate implications a trope like this has.
Actually, this is my second version of the fic. My first time through, I tried to eliminate as many of the aforementioned unfortunate implications as I could, but when I came back to what I had written after leaving it for a while, I realised that I'd only gotten rid of some of them and the result was still creepy. I'm pretty sure I've missed still more unfortunate implications in this rewrite (and sometimes Julian's thought processes don't help), but given the problematic nature of the trope, I figure there's only so much I can do.
So with that enthusiastic introduction...enjoy the fic?
Dessert was long finished, there was barely a sip of wine left in his glass, and Julian was running out of time.
He was a complete wreck. He'd hardly eaten a thing and he'd sweated through his best shirt. For once, Elim's wonderful company was doing nothing to calm him. On the contrary, the longer he spent with his partner, the more pieces he fell to.
He had to find out and it had to be that night. No, it had to be now. Now . . . now.
"Julian."
Julian's hand jerked and, oh, nice work, there went the remainder of his wine all over the tablecloth.
The next few moments were spent blotting up the mercifully small mess; by the time Julian was ready to respond, his face was very flushed indeed.
"Yes, Elim?" he tried to ask normally.
Elim was smiling at him, his head tilted just slightly to one side. "You've seemed preoccupied tonight. Is something the matter?"
"No, no." He took in a breath. "No, it's just. . . ."
He could hear his heart pounding in his head and he truly hoped he wouldn't finish off his humiliation by passing out before he could say another word. It took the greatest of will, but he managed to unstick his tongue from his mouth and force himself to say, "I wanted to show you my . . . my mark."
At once, he had Elim's complete attention; he had never before seen a look so sharp on his partner's face.
"Do you?" He smiled, but for once, the expression seemed perfunctory, lacking his usual good humour. "I'm honoured."
Julian swallowed, then pushed back his sleeve and held out his forearm. "Here."
The soulmark wasn't much to look at, truthfully. It wasn't a clear, defined shape like some—a shooting star, a rose, a heart—but more of a muddle, really. As a child, he'd thought it looked like a tree, but . . . no, it didn't really look like anything.
Except to Elim, who was staring at it with widened eyes and a growing expression of elation.
"It's the same?" Julian asked on a croak, but that little embarrassment didn't matter now, not at all, not even a little.
"The very same," Elim answered—breathed, more like.
It might not mean anything, the fearful part of him said, trying to drag down his rising happiness. Remember your genetic engineering. Remember what the doctors told your parents—remember what your parents told you.
He refused to listen. Not here, not now, he was not going to have this moment taken from him.
He reached out and seized Elim's hand, perhaps too tightly. "Can I see it?"
"Not in a public place, my dear, unless you really do want to make this a night to remember," Elim told him.
He laughed, too loudly and too much, but he didn't care. He lowered his voice. "Then let's go to a private place."
"I'd love to, but . . . there's the matter of that client I told you about. I'm afraid I need to leave you here." He leaned forward with an intense look that made their public table as intimate as a bedroom. "But tomorrow. . . ."
Julian leaned in as well, unable and unwilling to resist. "Yes—tomorrow will certainly be different."
They rose, already acting as one, and Elim kissed him, right in front of the entire restaurant. Applause sounded around them—the nearby tables must have heard the whole thing—but Julian didn't take his eyes from Elim's face for a moment.
"Until then."
He left after that, and Julian watched every last step he took with a determinedly light heart.
His heart wasn't nearly so light once he had returned to the silence of his apartment. He made it only a few steps inside before he simply could no longer move.
Elim might have the same soulmark, but he wouldn't be intended for Julian Bashir, would he? Not when Jules Bashir was his true match.
His legs abruptly became too weak to support him. He dropped to the floor and covered his face. Back at the restaurant, he'd wanted to believe their matching marks had meant something, that they truly were each other's soulmates. There was still hope: the doctors didn't know for certain the impact his radical genetic engineering would have on his soulmark. After all, how could they study the effects of an illegal surgery? It could be that even if he had been fundamentally changed, his true match would remain the same.
But could he really take the chance of binding Elim to someone who wasn't his soulmate?
Why was he even asking himself such a ridiculous question?
He dragged himself up from the floor and forced himself to his bedroom. It was much earlier than he usually went to sleep, but at this point, it was either go to bed or finish off the rest of the alcohol in the fridge. And the last thing he wanted was a hangover to interfere with driving away the man he loved, soulmate or not, forever.
He spent a long time staring at his arm before he shoved it under a pillow and made a useless attempt at sleep.
"My dear, what in the world is the matter?" were Elim's first words to him. Why he'd thought he could hide anything from his partner was beyond him.
He shook his head. "Come in and sit down. We need to talk."
"Of course. Whatever you wish."
Elim reached out to touch him, to comfort him, but Julian stepped away. The sight of Elim pausing and then returning his hand to his side was one more blow to bear.
Once he was sitting opposite Elim, himself on the couch and his partner in the chair, he didn't hesitate. Doing this any way but bluntly would make him lose his nerve beyond recovery.
He looked Elim straight in his beautiful blue eyes and said, "I may not be your soulmate."
Elim blinked at him, once, twice, three times. "And what could possibly make you believe such a thing?"
He had to keep looking at Elim. He owed him at least that. "You've heard about my genetic enhancements. Well, one of the little problems with illegal surgeries is there's very little research done into side effects, particularly side effects involving soulmarks. It could be, despite everything that was done to me, that there are no side effects at all. It could be that my mark has been made completely useless. I don't know. But ever since I learned what my parents had done to me, I've had to live with the knowledge that if I use my soulmark as a guide, I'm taking the chance of trapping an innocent person into a false marriage."
He bit down on his lip for a moment. The discomfort was enough to push him forward to say, "I can't do that to you, Elim. I can't keep the truth from you. You have the right to know what you're getting into."
There had been a great many reactions he had been expecting from Elim, most of them negative. None of them had included laughter. And yet there Elim sat, a hand over his face, shaking with it.
". . . Elim?" Had he somehow sent his partner into hysterics?
"Oh my dear, dear Julian." Elim lifted his hand from his face. "And here I was coming to lay a confession of my own at your feet."
His mouth fell open. He couldn't manage to shut it. "You . . . a confession?"
"That's right." He left his chair to join him on the couch and take up his hands. "I lied to you in the restaurant. Our soulmarks don't bear the slightest resemblance. I hardly wished to advertise such a fact, however, when it didn't matter to me." He pressed Julian's hands. "Mark or no mark, genetic engineering or otherwise, my heart is only yours."
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even say which emotion had jammed up his chest and was making him shake. "But—your soulmate—"
"If they truly are my perfect match, they'll love me enough to let me go."
It was heresy, sacrilege of the most shocking kind. It was true he'd always sympathised with the dissidents, with those who fought the soulmarks to choose their own fate, but it was one thing to sympathise and another to be one of them.
"Will you stay with me, even knowing the truth?" Elim asked.
Julian didn't speak right away. He tightened his fingers around Elim's, tried to read past the image Elim was projecting—but he wasn't projecting anything right now, was he? Elim was being sincere. And . . . he was pleading, with the strength of his grip and the growing uncertainty of his expression.
To ignore his soulmark would be to go against what he'd been told all his life, even after his surgery had perhaps rendered the mark useless. It wasn't right. It was unnatural.
But, then again. . . .
"I will," he said, his mouth dry.
The warmth of Elim's joy evaporated most of his uncertainties. It was incredible: he couldn't remember ever seeing a smile so beautiful on his partner's face. Elim leaned forward, and so did Julian, and he had time for only one last thought:
To disregard one's soulmark was unnatural. But then again, so was he. It was time for him to seize control of that, to go against the order of things in a way that brought him—and Elim—love and happiness.
