Chapter Text
Former tennis champions did not waddle. Starfleet Chief Medical Officers who usually had 20% more leg than torso did not waddle. Julian Subatoi Bashir in particular did not, under any circumstance, waddle.
It was really more of an awkward shuffle.
The comforting thing was that people kept telling him he was glowing, and that he looked beautiful (or occasionally adorable), and that slightly manic, unhinged look in his eye came across as determined, or even courageous.
Frankly, he felt none of those things. And for five months now, he’d been trying very hard not to waddle. But day by day, as the baby grew, remaining sprightly and elegant was becoming more of a challenge.
He made his way to the O’Briens’ quarters after work, panting a little, one hand on his bulbous belly. For a moment, he leaned a shoulder on the wall, taking a rest...
An ensign rounded the far end of the hallway. Julian quickly straightened and put on a friendly smile, and the ensign’s face lit up and split into a grin. Julian kept smiling until the ensign passed, then he slumped and reached to buzz the doorbell.
The doors opened immediately, and he entered. Not caring to perform now that he was hidden from the world, he groaned and gradually levered himself backwards into the couch cushions, eyes shut.
Keiko came closer. A warm smile rounded her voice as she said, “Long day, huh?”
Julian just groaned again.
He let out a breath as Keiko lifted his feet onto a footstool, unzipped his boots, then took off his socks for him.
“Eight months pregnant today,” Keiko remarked. “You’re doing great, Julian. Imagine! Just four more weeks and our baby’ll be out of you. Bet you’re looking forward to that, huh.”
Julian managed a lopsided smile. “Hm.”
He wasn’t certain whether he was looking forward to that. Of course he wanted his life to go back to normal. He missed playing tennis and racquetball. He missed getting drunk and singing badly with Miles. He missed his secret agent holosuite games – it just wasn’t the same when he couldn’t get shoved against a wall or punched through a window. He missed dating, he missed sex; he missed Leeta.
But also... he dreaded giving birth. He tried not to think about what was coming, in a daily effort to stay calm.
The idea that he’d gone through all of this and it wasn’t even his baby was nigh incomprehensible to him. The baby was probably going to have Keiko’s monolidded Japanese eyes, like Molly did, and Miles’ curly Irish hair, and not one hint of Julian’s Sudanese-Arabian roots. The concept had been floating around his consciousness for the five months since the shuttle accident, when he’d transferred the fetus from Keiko’s womb to his own, and it still hadn’t landed. ‘It wasn’t his baby’ didn’t make sense. Neither, for that matter, did the idea that it was.
However, the bottom line was: despite the unfathomable nonsense of his life right now, the baby was important.
There was a vulnerable, precious creature growing inside Julian. He needed to keep it alive. That was the whole point.
That, he could fathom. So that was what he focused on.
The doors to the O’Briens’ quarters hissed open, and Miles came strutting in, his grin huge when he saw Julian. “Eight months today, did you realise?” he exclaimed. “Ahh, look at yeh, all conked out. Here, I brought you something.”
Miles leaned over to Keiko, gave her a kiss, then sat on the sofa next to Julian and offered him an ugly bowl of grapes. “Real, not replicated. Quark actually pulled through for once.” He popped one green fruit into his mouth and made his cheek bulge. “Wan’h sh’ome?”
Julian opened his mouth. “Ah?”
Miles chuckled and dropped a grape in. Julian peeled it with his teeth and then sucked on the plump and solid innards. He found the roundness comforting.
Miles shared the grapes with Keiko, who went to find them a better dish.
After a minute, Miles hopped his backside from the sofa to the second footstool and began to massage Julian’s feet. “You’re quiet,” Miles observed. “Tired, huh.”
“Hm.”
Six-year-old Molly came pottering out of Julian’s bedroom clutching her toy targ in both hands. She ran to Julian and handed him the plush animal, grinning. “He’s pregnant too,” she told him. “He’s having eleven baby targs, an’ I’m naming them after the Bajoran planets. We did it in school today.”
Julian felt himself brightening, head rising from the backrest cushions. He picked up Piggy the targ and balanced four soft feet on his belly. “Eleven,” he marvelled. “Eleven’s an awful lot, don’t you think, Molly?”
“They’ll all have brothers and sisters to play with,” Molly noted. “And Piggy will love all of them just as much as the others,” she added, matter-of-factly.
Julian shot Keiko a knowing look, beaming when she grinned back.
“I’m sure Piggy’s going to be a wonderful parent,” Julian assured Molly. “Ih— Is he raising his family alone, or...?”
“No, all his friends are helping,” Molly said, taking back Piggy and sitting on the rug. She made Piggy stand up beside her feet. “They’re coming for tea at eighteen-hundred hours.”
“Oh, very organised,” Julian said. He heaved his torso up a bit more, hands digging deep into the sofa. “Ah. Whew! I hope I’m invited for tea too?”
Molly grinned up at him. “Nuuu,” she chided. “You’re too big, Uncle Julian. You’ll squash them all.”
Julian’s smile wavered. He tried to cover his pang of dismay with a laugh, but he heard how hollow it was. “Too big. Yes...” He patted his humongous belly through his elasticated Starfleet jumpsuit. Some days the shape didn’t even look real to him. “Yes, I am a bit, aren’t I?”
Keiko assured him, “Just means our baby’s doing well.”
“Kind of impressive, in my opinion,” Miles added, digging a thumb into Julian’s aching left heel and wiggling. “Scrawny little bastard like you with a baby bump like that? Puh. The thing’s taking up practically a third of yeh by now.”
Julian swallowed, managing a dull smile.
“I mean,” Miles went on, his tone softening when he registered Julian’s discomfort, “uhhh. Like. Like, you’re big and round, Julian, but it’s not like you’re a whole other M-class planet, ya know? Maybe just a moon.”
Julian chuckled deeply. He was glad Miles still had the knack of making him laugh. He really needed that these days.
Before dinner came around, Julian got himself to the bathroom and back, now freshly showered and changed into a comfortable shirt and soft trousers. He sank into the pink sofa once again, which was where he lived during most of his waking downtime.
Keiko went off to help Molly with her play-fuelled research into the Bajoran planets, so Miles was left alone with Julian.
Miles liked to use time alone to sit close to Julian and read to the baby, and Julian was always enthused as he found his friend’s voice perhaps even more calming than the baby did. He shut his eyes, listening to Miles’ Irish brogue weave its way through his sentences as he read off a padd, telling a fairytale about a witch who cursed her neighbours for stealing cabbages from her vegetable garden. Julian smiled when he did the voices.
“Oh, won’t you get some for me, O husband of mine?” Miles cried, falsetto. “I lie here in my bed and look out from my window, and I see only the garden. I crave those cabbages more than anything in the world...
“And the husband gave in – who wouldn’t, honestly? Pregnant best friend wants grapes, you get him some damn grapes.” Miles added, “Or cabbages. Even if they belong to an evil witch who steals babies.”
“Ohh,” Julian said coquettishly, sliding a hand to touch Miles’ on his bump, linking their fingers together. “I wouldn’t want you going up against a witch.” He peeked out at Miles, who smiled back fondly.
“Hey,” Miles shrugged, “Quark’s close enough. And I defeated him with a few slips of latinum. I call that a happily-ever-after.”
Julian chuckled, thumb stroking Miles’ hand. God, he really adored these moments. He always wished they could last longer.
He gasped, tensing – they’d both felt the baby kick. Julian’s head fell back as he giggled, then cooed to himself as Miles stroked his belly, lifting his shirt to touch skin.
“Bit feisty today, i’nnie?”
“He likes when you read and hates when you stop,” Julian said. “I think anyone would.”
Miles beamed as he ran his palm up and across the firm bubble of Julian’s middle, then back down to his navel, following the curve with the pressure of his hand. Touches like that always tingled, and sometimes hurt because of how tight his skin felt. Right now it tickled, and Julian squirmed, rocking his head into the sofa cushions and tittering.
The doorbell bleeped, and Julian lifted his head. He grumbled but then called, “Keeeeikooo,” with his head flopped back and chin up so he could see towards his bedroom.
Keiko emerged curiously.
“Door.”
Keiko called, “Come in!”
Julian pulled his top down in a hurry as a parade of people entered with bright eyes and happy smiles, making a lot of jovial noises.
“Jadzia!” Julian cried in delight, working his way up to his feet and opening his arms to hug her side briefly. “What are you doing h— Leeta!”
Leeta came and fussed over him, cupping his face and tugging him in for a chaste kiss. By the time she pulled back Julian was already opening his arms to Kira, who didn’t hug him, but did hand over a bowl of salad. Julian hugged the salad, grinning as he saw Garak skulking at the back of the crowd with his blue eyes crinkled in a smile.
“What’s everyone doing here?!” Julian exclaimed. “You’re not all here to see me, are you?”
“Nope,” Jadzia smiled. “Keiko said there was a very special tea party for a pregnant targ, and we were all excited to join. Hey, Molly, is there room for all of us?”
Molly looked taken aback, but started to smile. She hugged Piggy and nodded.
“Not too big now, am I,” Julian uttered, half to himself.
They settled around the sofa, since the sofa was the only place Julian could sit comfortably. Miles stayed on the footstool, while Molly and Jadzia sat on the rug with Garak between them, directly opposite Julian. Keiko and Leeta shared the sofa with Julian, and Kira perched on the opposite arm, with one bare foot on the floor and the other crossed across her thigh.
Between the lot of them, they doled out Kira’s Bajoran salad, plus accompanying slices of replicated squash, tomato and butterbean pie with sides of roasted potato and gravy.
During his pregnancy, Julian had been craving vegetarian Terran dishes and nothing else. So, over the last five months, Miles had worked frantically to add every meal he and Julian had ever eaten on Earth into the replicators’ pattern banks, from paneer tikka masala to cucumber sushi.
Over ten minutes, between soft-voiced overlapping discussions about grape imports, targ babies, and voles in the ventilator systems, every last scrap of Bajoran salad migrated from Julian’s plate to Keiko’s. Only Garak noticed, and Julian swore him to secrecy with a finger against his lips. Garak smirked and bowed his head, holding Julian’s eyes.
While they ate, Julian let his active attention hop between conversations but kept a running total of what was going on in the background. He didn’t need to say much; it was good just to listen, finally surrounded by the people he loved after weeks of being too tired and overwhelmed to attend any of their gatherings.
Soon the meal was over. Miles took away the empty plates, and tea was served.
It was warm in the room... and in Julian’s heart. He breathed deeply, enjoying the mingling scents of the people he thought of as family, and the spices of their favourite tea blends.
The door bleeped, and Miles welcomed the newcomer in, only for everyone to go quiet when they saw Quark enter.
“Whaaat?” Quark said defensively. He thrust out a wooden duck on a string, which lurched unhappily from side-to-side like a pendulum. “Just came to give you this. I was going to throw it out, but I figured, well... no need to waste good product.” He dumped the duck on the nearest table, then scoffed, “It’s not even worth enough to charge you. So.” He scowled and straightened his jacket, glaring at Julian. “I’d better see you in my bar once you’re finished with all this, doctor.”
Julian smiled. “Count on it, Quark.”
Quark left. The room erupted in fond laughter and “awww”s when he was gone; amused looks were exchanged. Kira went to get the duck toy and brought it to Julian.
“Looks new,” she said, smiling as she handed it over.
Julian rolled the duck’s wheels over his belly, beaming, then handed the toy to Miles.
Miles grunted. “Bet you anything he replicated this today.”
“He had it custom made, in fact,” Garak said, and everyone turned his way, curious. “I’m not as good with woodwork as I am with a needle and thread, but I hope...” he looked at Julian, “it’s to your liking?”
Julian smiled widely, touching the little yellow duck. “You made this?”
“If you’d be so kind as to not tell Quark I told you so, I’d be much obliged. He rather had me swear on my life to say nothing.”
Julian huffed at Garak. “And yet!”
Garak beamed. “My mistake. A mere slip of the tongue.” He inhaled quickly and added, “Now, on the subject of things I’ve made!” He turned back and dragged a cloth bag towards him across the rug and into his lap. “I’ve been kept somewhat busy by regular business, but dear Mrs. O’Brien has been frightfully limited by the replicator’s clothing selections for the baby, and I felt I had no choice but to improve the poor infant’s lot.”
He lifted a teeny-tiny Starfleet onesie with science-officer teal across the shoulders and a silver delta embroidered on the breast. The crowd squealed, and Molly gasped aloud, hands over her mouth.
In a devastating blast of elation, Julian wailed, putting down his tea on the sofa arm and reaching for the onesie. He held it in his hands and sobbed over it. “Ih— It’s-s-s. So-hooo cuu-hu-huute. Garaaaaak.” He lifted it to his forehead and pressed it there. Then he let Keiko see, and watched her hold it up while Leeta and Kira leaned close to coo over it.
Julian was still droning a note of overwhelm, hands over his eyes. He felt a warm hand on his knee, and peeked out to see Garak kneeling before him, one hand out to touch him. Garak’s concerned expression melted to gladness when he saw Julian smiling.
“Perhaps,” Garak said, sitting back and pulling out another onesie, “this will please Chief O’Brien?” He presented his audience with an identical newborn’s outfit, this one topped with engineering gold. More squealing. Then out came a botanist’s grey jumpsuit to appease Keiko, complete with a pocket embroidered to look like there was a leafy plant inside.
“Garak, you shouldn’t have,” Keiko said, clearly too pleased to even think about rejecting the gift.
“Oh,” Garak said amicably, eyes on Julian, “it was nothing but a pleasure.”
Julian hummed a happy sound, rubbing his belly and knowing the baby inside was as gleeful as he was.
This wasn’t the first time Garak had shown up bearing gifts. He seemed to have been over here every two or three days since Julian found himself unexpectedly pregnant, and he always came with food, some mind-bending puzzle for Julian to do, a book he might like, or a selection of soft fabrics so Julian could have some say in the sensory preferences of his ever-growing collection of pregnancy clothes.
Besides today, Garak had never, not once, been invited. Yet ten or fifteen times he’d been in the room when nobody else was home, leaving new clothes on Julian’s bed or dinner on the table, but the O’Briens hadn’t said a bad word about this repeated home invasion because it was clear to everyone that he was a help, not a hindrance. For Julian especially.
Now that Garak’s bag of gifts had been emptied and thoroughly appreciated, conversation wandered again.
While Jadzia shared her tea with Piggy and the targ’s colourful friends, Molly recited everything she’d learned about the Bajoran solar system, and everyone listened in. Kira nodded along; her nose ridges crinkled in a grin whenever Molly looked at her to check she was right.
Distracted from the recitation, Leeta leaned back behind Keiko, reaching out a long arm to touch Julian’s hair.
Julian looked over at her, shutting his eyes and leaning into the touch as she petted him. He craved more touches like that – even the briefest affection drove him wild inside.
“You need a haircut,” Leeta whispered.
Julian peeked at her. “Hm,” he muttered. “Would you do it?”
Leeta gave him a pitying look. “You know I always mess up.”
Julian pouted. “But I like when you play with my hair.”
Leeta stroked black fluff out of his face, fingers splitting the thicker locks just past his temples. “If you wanted me to play with your hair, Julian, you shouldn’t have broken up with me, don’t you think?” Leeta always wore the seductive smirk of a dabo girl, yet now that smirk seemed tempered with concern.
“You’re playing with my hair now,” Julian teased.
Leeta hummed and stopped touching him. “Come see me when the baby’s out of you. That was what you wanted, right? I’ll cut your hair then.”
Julian nodded. He sighed. “I miss you,” he whispered.
Leeta gave him a tender look. But she didn’t reply, and the lack of a returned sentiment rang coldly in Julian’s mind as Leeta turned back to Molly and applauded with everyone else. Julian clapped a few times, putting on a smile.
The buzzing discomfort that lingered after that interaction eventually got lost among renewed smiles and little laughs as Jadzia passed around the breastfeeding accessories she’d ‘had on hand’ and now offered to Keiko.
Kira sat on Miles’ footstool, since Miles had gotten up to walk around and stretch his legs. Open on Kira’s lap was a men’s fashion and lifestyle magazine made of real paper, the likes of which she’d never seen before.
Julian had gone through that issue a dozen times since Garak had mysteriously sourced it from some unknown time and place. Well, not so unknown: it was a 1963 original Gentleman’s Quarterly. Mint condition, nary a ‘four centuries old’ smell or yellowing page about it. Julian still liked to flip through it sometimes, imagining himself in dapper suits and trilby hats. The mental image was somewhat confused by the realisation that he was a bit too pregnant to fit into a pointedly masculine slim-fit suit, but he had something to look forward to, at least. He just worried about his hips after all this. Who knew what he’d look like in two months, or two years? He might end up... curvy. Granted, his hips had barely widened at all, but there was still time.
He dragged his thoughts back to the present, desperate to enjoy the moment. His smile started to hurt.
Gradually, as another hour or two went by, it got easier. He made three trips to the bathroom during that time, once accompanied by Keiko. Each time he returned, he found himself relieved that his friends were still here, still chatting away.
Their presence smoked the room with an intoxicating heat, leaving Julian dozy and content. There was a certain softness to evenings like these, comfort amongst that low rumble of familiar voices with the occasional brightness of a laugh lifting from the hubbub.
He was safe and loved here.
They all were.
Julian was just in the middle of picking out swaddling fabrics with Jadzia when he gasped and curled his legs tight, suddenly uncomfortable.
“What?” Jadzia asked.
Julian gave her a disgraced look.
Jadzia’s lips parted. “Bathroom again?”
Julian glanced to make sure nobody else had noticed, then nodded. Jadzia helped him up, and they went slowly to the bathroom door around the corner.
“I’ll get you some fresh pants?” Jadzia asked.
Julian grunted from inside the bathroom. “Please.”
He emerged a minute later to find Jadzia waiting, folded trousers and fresh underwear balanced on a hand. She smiled. “Been there, done that,” she remarked. “Those little uterus pirates sure love to use bladders as punching bags, don’t they?”
With a sheepish yet grateful smile, Julian took the change of clothes and freshened up in private.
Once out, Jadzia took his arm and accompanied him back to the sofa, smiling all the way.
But Julian got to the couch and realised in dismay that people were getting up and stretching, talking like they were about to leave.
“You’re not taking off already, are you?” Julian asked Kira. “Leeta, stay for another drink— Garak— It’s not that late, surely. Barely even twenty-two-hundred!”
“Sorry, Julian,” Kira said. “Molly’s about to drop off, and Keiko’s been shooting me warning looks for a good twenty minutes.”
Keiko smiled at Kira, eyes narrowed. “Twenty-five.”
Kira laughed and patted Keiko’s back. “Alright. We’ll get out of your hair.”
Julian turned desperately to Jadzia. “You don’t all have to go. Jadzia, didn’t you have some... research? that you needed to discuss with me?”
“Nothing that can’t wait until we’re on duty tomorrow,” Jadzia said. She leaned to peck Julian on the cheek, but by the time Julian reached for her she was already turning away. “Thanks for the tea party, Molly! Piggy was a great host. We all had a really fun time.”
Molly nuzzled sleepily against Keiko’s hip, hardly acknowledging Jadzia at all. Kira chuckled and squeezed Jadzia’s arm, then cocked her head to indicate they were off.
“See you, Chief,” Kira said to Miles, saluting with two fingers.
Miles grunted, smiled, and gave her an up-nod.
Julian clutched the wooden duck toy and the trio of onesies to his chest. “We haven’t said a proper thank-you to Garak yet,” he said firmly. “Garak, stay for a minute, won’t you?”
Garak gave a solemn look back. “I’m afraid it’s getting rather close to my bedtime, doctor. But there’s no need, in any case; your gratitude is well-noted.”
Julian swallowed. His smile grew strained as Keiko and Kira hugged and final goodnight-and-thank-yous were repeated a few times as everyone inched closer to the doors.
Julian dumped all the gifts on the sofa and padded up towards the crowd. He reached out his arms for a hug from Leeta, but she barely pressed to him for a second before crouching to speak to Molly. Miles touched Julian’s lower back, and Julian leaned into the contact, looking at Miles with floods of gratitude, only to realise Miles wasn’t even looking at him and had basically touched him by accident.
Julian looked jealously at the toy targ, who was so snug in Molly’s arms that his eyes bulged out.
Holding back bitter tears, Julian left the departing crowd and went to shut himself in his room. He crawled into bed, heavy belly hanging down, then flopped onto his back with a huff.
He glared at the ceiling, arms folded over his chest.
“How dare I,” he said coldly. He thrust his right cheek to the bed, looking over at Kukalaka, who was the only person who shared his bed these days. Julian took his teddy bear and cuddled him, exhaling into his brown fur. “How dare I, Kukalaka. How dare I be so ungrateful.”
He snuffled, fighting back the surge of emotion that punched up to his throat.
He lost. Hot tears fell down towards his ears.
“They’re all here; they came to see me, and they always give me everything I need. What more could I possibly want? What don’t I have? Why aren’t I happy? Why?” He lifted his bear and shook him as if he’d provide answers under duress. “What’s wrong with me?”
Julian wept in silence now, dragging his blanket to wrap over his body as he rolled to face the far wall. Molly’s afternoon playtime had left a mess of molecular structures on the carpet, and the wall-hidden computer monitor was still on standby from her research. Julian sighed slowly, nudging his nose deep into Kukalaka’s softness.
“I’m not alone,” he whispered through his tears. “So why the hell am I lonely?”
★