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Julian deliberately entered Garak’s shop when the Cardassian was busy with a chatty customer. Garak acknowledged Julian’s presence with a polite nod of the head. No secret signals were exchanged.
Julian had practically strutted back to his quarters two nights before. The preceding days had been full of exactly the kind of adventure he’d hoped for when he’d accepted the post on Deep Space Nine. Intrigue, innuendo, plots, foiled terrorists, all culminating in sex with a mysterious, fascinating -- and probably dangerous -- man. Okay, maybe Garak being the spy had put Julian more in the role of Bond girl than hero, but he was fine with being a sexy sidekick for now. But if he was going to see Garak again, or indeed, remain on the same station with him, this tongue-tied, adolescent stammering had to go. It was exhilarating, in a way, to be so swept up that he could barely speak, but embarrassing in a grown man.
He pretended to inspect a mannequin in a cobalt blue tunic, and didn’t have long to wait until the customer was ushered out and Garak made his way over. Julian’s heart began racing. Hold it together, Julian.
“My dear Doctor, how pleasant to see you. But I’m afraid if you’re interested in this item I cannot in good conscience sell it to you. The fit is completely wrong for your figure.” He was all accommodating shopkeeper. As if they were two relative strangers. As if he hadn't had Julian naked, sweating, and whimpering, uniform strewn carelessly across the room, less than forty-four hours ago.
“Oh really? Maybe you have something more suitable in the back?”
Garak bowed obsequiously. “Of course, Doctor Bashir. If you’d care you follow me I can show you.”
They were on each other as soon as Garak had closed the curtain, Garak’s hands on Julian’s shoulders, guiding him backwards to the wall while their mouths met hungrily. Julian allowed it until he felt his uniform clasp being undone.
He put his hand on Garak’s. Firmly.
“Garak,” he panted, “I didn’t come here to have sex in the back of your shop.”
“I do apologise, Doctor," said Garak blandly. Seamlessly. "What was it you came here for?”
Take control, Julian.
He removed his hand from Garak’s and massaged his neck ridge. Garak closed his eyes and exhaled roughly.
Julian leaned in.
“We were sadly interrupted last time. I was hoping tonight you’d be able to show me what Cardassians do after sex,” he purred into Garak's ear. “So I thought I’d invite you to...dinner...at my quarters this evening.”
Garak’s smile was vulpine.
“An excellent suggestion, my dear. I’d be delighted to accept.”
"Fantastic." Julian pushed Garak away gently but firmly, so they were no longer touching. "I'll see you at seven? I hope you like Earth food, Mr Garak."
"I'm sure I look forward to discovering more of Earth's many delights, Doctor Bashir," Garak said muskily. He tilted his chin deliberately. His eyes had never seemed so blue.
Julian nearly caved. He swallowed. "Until this evening."
Garak stepped aside, leaving a very great deal of space now between them. The path to escape was clear. "This evening, Doctor."
"I'm Chamber 345, Habitat Level A-2."
Garak nodded politely. "Thank you, I'll make a note of that."
Stupid, of course he knows where you live. He's a spy, Julian. "Okay, good. See you later, Garak." Go now, Julian, now you idiot, be smooth, be Bond, you can salvage this, go!
"Good day, Doctor," said Garak, a touch of expectation in his voice. And was that...amusement? Hell.
"Good day, Garak." Julian strode for the exit. His face burned, and he hoped his false confidence had been convincing. Surely it had! No, no, it hadn't. Well, nothing to be done now. He kept walking, like an idiot, stomping along stiff-backed though the curtain, past the mannequins and displays, onto the Promenade, and around the slight curve to the Infirmary, and then into his office, where he finally allowed himself to take a breath and lower his shoulders.
He alternately cursed and thanked whoever was responsible for situating the Infirmary and the tailor shop so close together -- how was he to concentrate on work, but at the same time, how thrilling to imagine Garak working on...whatever he did with his days. Mere metres away. He realised he was grinning like a hyena. Okay, fine, he'd got a bit ruffled in the end, but it had actually gone well, hadn't it? He'd been firm, and what's more Garak had agreed to meet again. So Julian couldn't be a complete fool. Someone as suave and cool as Garak wouldn't agree to meet a fool twice in a row, would he? He would not.
Julian grinned and ran his hand through his hair, and wondered if spaghetti alle vongole was fishy enough to appeal to a Cardassian palate.