Chapter Text
Garak looks from Julian’s expectant face to the package in his hands carefully wrapped, corners of the paper clearly measured just so, the two loose ends of the ribboned measured (or at least cut) to identical length.
“So I remembered you said how you get cold on the station…” Julian begins or perhaps continues. Garak isn’t sure his attention has been properly focused since removing the top of the small wrapped box. What catches his attention beyond Julian’s eager puppy face or even the long half anxious explanation “and I remembered how you like stripes, you see. Or at least you wear them often…” No, what catches his attention even beyond the seizure rainbow of colors woven in what is either a zig zag or the beginnings of a fashion induced stroke are the… toes. “…stretch so I mean I don’t make it a habit to stare at your feet… er anyone’s feet for that matter but…”
“Doctor?” Garak asks with infinitely patient interruption.
“Mmm?”
“I’m afraid I must confess my ignorance for once much to my embarassment but… I’m afraid we don’t have… these on Cardassia.” Or any other planet I’ve ever been to. Julian’s ears perk in response, again like an excitable little pup and Garak can almost picture a little waggle as he shifts back- balls of his feet to heels announcing quite proudly, “toe socks, of course.”
Of course… Garak, smile never leaving his face, looks down once more, staring as Julian flutters around him an explanation, and etymology, a history, a million things to show off and earn himself a happy little pat on the head. Garak sets the box down on the counter, holding one up, unfolding it carefully like spun spider silk. He can tell if nothing else that it’s quite skillfully hand made.
Somewhere in the distant reaches of the universe, Elim, he thinks to himself, there is a poor creature, male, female, does it really matter? A poor creature who has devoted a lifetime to the mastery of this one craft… to these… toe socks… He blinks a few times breathing deeply, subtly, smiling all the time as he refolds the sock and places it back.
“You… don’t like them?” Julian hedges cautiously, almost visibly drooping. And here we have an equally poor creature who has devoted a lifetime to subterfuge, misdirection, espionage, about to put those hard earned skills to use in this the most banal of things. The smile crinkles his eyes just a bit growing as he puts his hand on Julian’s shoulder.
“I can honestly say I have never received a more thoughtful gift, my dear.” A lifetime of lies employed in the service of Julian’s face glowing like a warm beacon home. “I love them.”