DS9 - Silly Cheesy Tropes
Jun. 13th, 2014 08:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seikilosTitle: 30-Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge - 14. Stripper AU
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Pre-slash
Rating & Warnings: PG
Words: 484 this part, ?? overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Julian is never, ever letting Commander Sisko foist a pack of ambassadors on him ever again.
Author's Notes: I had fun with messing with expectations in this one. I do so love messing with expectations. :D
This, Julian vowed to himself, was the very last time he would allow Commander Sisko to foist a group of ambassadors on him. It had been bad enough when they had merely been argumentative. He'd learned to handle that rather well, he thought. He could cope with argumentative.
He wasn't sure, however, he could cope with a strip club.
As the most recent set of (all male) strippers finished up their routine, Julian tried very hard not to check the time . . . again. It wouldn't have been so bad if there had been some women. It would have been—strange, with representatives of three different governments sharing his table, but it wouldn't have been the worst thing he'd done.
Unfortunately, out of the four of them, he was the only one who fancied women, and so that had been that. Instead of potentially being rather enjoyable, the evening had become . . . well, boring and a touch annoying, frankly. There was simply nothing like being the only one not having fun at a table where no one cared one whit about you.
He couldn't quite keep in a sigh as the music changed once more, from some sort of heavy pounding (oh, yes, very subtle) to something a little more . . . fluid. Sinuous, he supposed. That caught his attention to a mild degree, if only because it meant he was about to be bored in a different way.
But then the Cardassian sauntered onto the stage.
Julian frowned. Now this was a puzzle. While the man was hardly unattractive, he didn't exactly have the same look as the many, many (many, many) other men Julian had seen that night. What was so special about him, then?
The Cardassian let his gaze play lazily across the audience as he remained unmoving on the stage—and when he came to Julian. . . .
No, he had to be imagining it. Those intense blue eyes weren't fixed on him, were they?
The musical introduction ended. The man onstage began his routine. And Julian became much less sure about many things, such as the need to breathe and his own sexuality. The only certainties were that the man's unblinking eyes really were for him, that they never left him for a moment, and that the building could burn down around his ears, taking the ambassadors and his Starfleet career with it, before he stopped watching the loose-hipped movements of the man before him.
When the routine was over (far too soon), the Andorian ambassador tapped his shoulder.
"I'm glad we found someone to your liking," he said kindly. "I was beginning to worry it was going to be a bit of a dull evening for you."
Julian's mouth was far too dry to form words in response, but really, it hardly mattered. At long last, he had found someone capable of rendering him speechless.
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Pre-slash
Rating & Warnings: PG
Words: 484 this part, ?? overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Julian is never, ever letting Commander Sisko foist a pack of ambassadors on him ever again.
Author's Notes: I had fun with messing with expectations in this one. I do so love messing with expectations. :D
This, Julian vowed to himself, was the very last time he would allow Commander Sisko to foist a group of ambassadors on him. It had been bad enough when they had merely been argumentative. He'd learned to handle that rather well, he thought. He could cope with argumentative.
He wasn't sure, however, he could cope with a strip club.
As the most recent set of (all male) strippers finished up their routine, Julian tried very hard not to check the time . . . again. It wouldn't have been so bad if there had been some women. It would have been—strange, with representatives of three different governments sharing his table, but it wouldn't have been the worst thing he'd done.
Unfortunately, out of the four of them, he was the only one who fancied women, and so that had been that. Instead of potentially being rather enjoyable, the evening had become . . . well, boring and a touch annoying, frankly. There was simply nothing like being the only one not having fun at a table where no one cared one whit about you.
He couldn't quite keep in a sigh as the music changed once more, from some sort of heavy pounding (oh, yes, very subtle) to something a little more . . . fluid. Sinuous, he supposed. That caught his attention to a mild degree, if only because it meant he was about to be bored in a different way.
But then the Cardassian sauntered onto the stage.
Julian frowned. Now this was a puzzle. While the man was hardly unattractive, he didn't exactly have the same look as the many, many (many, many) other men Julian had seen that night. What was so special about him, then?
The Cardassian let his gaze play lazily across the audience as he remained unmoving on the stage—and when he came to Julian. . . .
No, he had to be imagining it. Those intense blue eyes weren't fixed on him, were they?
The musical introduction ended. The man onstage began his routine. And Julian became much less sure about many things, such as the need to breathe and his own sexuality. The only certainties were that the man's unblinking eyes really were for him, that they never left him for a moment, and that the building could burn down around his ears, taking the ambassadors and his Starfleet career with it, before he stopped watching the loose-hipped movements of the man before him.
When the routine was over (far too soon), the Andorian ambassador tapped his shoulder.
"I'm glad we found someone to your liking," he said kindly. "I was beginning to worry it was going to be a bit of a dull evening for you."
Julian's mouth was far too dry to form words in response, but really, it hardly mattered. At long last, he had found someone capable of rendering him speechless.
