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Julian knows he's not always the most perceptive of individuals. He is, however, quite cognizant of other things, even if it takes him longer to become aware of them.
That said, he has noticed a pattern. Several of them, to be more exact.
Specifically, the kind of patterns in a person’s behavior that one cannot notice without living with said person for an extended period of time.
Said person, in this case, being Garak.
Julian marvels at the route his life had taken. He had volunteered to accompany the Federation’s relief efforts on Cardassia less than a year ago. When personnel rotated the first time, he requested an extension. Since he was a doctor, it was approved. Another rotation was due and Julian already had the paperwork ready.
The reason behind his reluctance to leave is at present slotted wonderfully against his back, nuzzling into his neck. It still seems to be one of Garak’s favorite things, even if he didn’t often allow himself to revel in it in the beginning.
It always starts the same – a gentle press of a ridged nose into the groove of Julian’s spine, then a satisfied exhale of breath, followed by lazy snuggling. And, after a while: soft, luxurious kisses against his shoulder blades, and then up. It lasts for up to ten minutes sometimes - just the languid, reverent press of lips to his back and shoulder. Julian couldn’t remember anyone kissing him in such a manner. Lips, neck, yes. But there was nothing sexual about these.
And yet, they are one of the most intimate things he can remember experiencing.
Garak loves touching him in passing. If they are in company, the touch is chaste – a brief brush against the small of Julian’s back, or the slide of a palm down his forearm. If they are alone, Garak’s hand may stray to his knee or wrist.
Julian has noticed that Garak seems to hold a particular fascination for his hands. It’s not something he indulges in often, but when they are lying together in post-coital lassitude, Julian half-torpid with encroaching sleepiness, Elim will take his palm and examine it. The tailor likes to run his calloused fingers down both sides of his fingers. Occasionally, he remarks upon the oddity of the softness of human skin, or the tiny hairs that dot the skin between the knuckles of his fingers. He takes each of Julian’s digits between two fingers and strokes them from palm to fingertip. It is the most unguarded time for Garak, and Julian suspects it’s a vulnerability Elim allows himself only because Julian is sleepy and so sated that his eyes are closed. Perhaps he thinks Julian dismisses it as a personal eccentricity.
It is not. Hands are deeply intimate to Cardassians. When he isn’t too exhausted, Julian entwines his fingers with Elim’s and brushes his gray hand with his thumb, relishing the soft shudders his lover offers when touched in that manner.
Julian suspects he’s been infected with this particular preference, because he’s developed a disturbing fondness for watching Garak eat ikri buns. They are still quite the rare treat, but they are apparently one of the man’s weaknesses. About once every two weeks, Garak brings one home in a little metal box Julian lovingly calls “The Ikri Vault”. Julian follows the way the tailor’s face brightens in pleasure as his fingers (meticulously washed beforehand) disassemble the pastry. It’s fascinating to watch because it’s pretty much the only food Garak will use his fingers for, and the novelty has yet to wear off for Julian. It’s simply fascinating to observe the way his companion’s face absolutely dissolves in pleasure at the first bite, and the way his eyes flutter closed in bliss as he moans around the taste of the filling. Julian often forgets to blink because he doesn’t want to miss a single micro-expression on that expressive face. Watching his features contort in pleasure, even one as simple as having a sweet pastry still feels like a privilege to Julian.
And when Garak is done and the bun is all gone, Julian flushes to the tips of his ears at the sight of gray, sugar-stained fingers disappearing into Elim’s mouth. In those moments, he is quite jealous of the bun. And the fingers. Luckily, Garak is perceptive and doesn’t let him stay disappointed for very long.
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Did you want a taste?” Garak asks, and Julian forgets to breathe.
The pull Julian feels is unyielding, like gravity itself.
When he does taste Elim’s lips he realizes he’s lost all track of time or indeed space. Garak smirks knowingly and Julian wonders whether his stupidly smitten face is another one of Elim’s favorite things.
Then there is dawn. Garak wakes each day at an ungodly hour to watch the miracle of sunrise over his beloved Cardassia. On the days Julian stirs when Garak leaves the bed, there is about a 34% chance he will be awake enough to be persuaded out of bed and into the backyard, where Garak has installed a bench. It’s a ritual for him, Julian knows. Greeting the first, delicate pink rays bathing his homeworld in ephemeral warmth must feel like a blessing after years of exile. When he rests his head on Elim’s shoulder, half-dozing in the twilight, he spares only a glance at the colors blossoming on the horizon. Julian much prefers watching Elim’s face soften with wonder and gratitude.
It is beautiful.
Their lunches have been replaced with late dinners – they both work insanely long hours. Just sitting down over a ration supplemented by root vegetables from Garak’s garden is enough for Julian.
He catches Garak’s eye and starts an argument over some policy he’s overheard. The gleam in those blue eyes is ferocious and keen; and Julian knows he has Elim’s full attention. Apparently, his Cardassian loves verbally sparring with him. The more heated – the better. If Julian throws in enough dismissive remarks, he manages to earn a growl and a satisfying ending to their evening.
Lastly, there are the orchids. Well, the garden in general. Elim hadn’t been lying about being a gardener. Their little patch of Cardassian soil is shockingly lush. Tending to the garden is definitely one of Elim’s favorite things. And Julian? Julian simply loves watching Elim taking care of and nurturing new life. The pride that lights up his face whenever there is a new bloom or ripening fruit is positively breathtaking. And when they have visitors admiring the garden, Garak is generous both with his advice and the produce itself. Julian knows that helping things grow fills Elim with joy.
Julian has noticed that, lately, Garak looks… happy.
And seeing Garak happy…
That’s Julian’s favorite thing.