Archive of Our Own

"You're not dying."

"I could be," Odo says, dubiously, crossing his arms. "I've had to regenerate every sixteen hours on the dot for my almost thirty years of existence outside a vat, and now I can barely make it thirteen!"

Quark quickly scrambles into a sitting position on the bed. "You're only thirty?!"

"I could be dying, and you focus on my age."

"You're not dying," Quark repeats, "you're seriously only thirty?"

"I was floating around space for hundreds of years," he says, archly, "so no, I'm not only thirty, though I've only been able to take humanoid shape for twenty-eight years."

Odo watches as a devious smirk curls Quark's lips, revealing pointy teeth and emphasizing his distinctly Ferengi smile lines. It's high on Odo's list of favorite Quark expressions. It is also high on Odo's list of least favorite Quark expressions. "I can't believe this," Quark says slowly, that deviousness apparent in his voice. It's the same kind of tone he affects when he's about to say something absolutely deplorable. Odo braces himself as Quark's smirk morphs into a full-blown leer. "I'm robbing the cradle. Am I your sugar daddy?"

"I'm going to see Doctor Bashir," Odo says shortly, turning on his heel.

"Wait! Hey!" Quark clambers from the bed and grabs Odo's arm, turns him back around. "Are you actually worried about this regeneration thing?"

"Not truly. It's far more likely that I'll just have to get used to shorter cycles now that I'm a changeling again. The baby..." He pauses as something low in his chest clenches. It's not his heart--he doesn't have one of those, not anymore--but the feeling is similar. He clears his throat, unnecessarily. "The baby may not have been able to restore me to my full previous ability."

Quark's eyes soften, his mouth closing over his teeth as his shoulders curve with the memory of the child. "Nah. I think the baby did a good job on you," he says, reaching up to lay his hand on Odo's cheek and jaw.

"As do I," Odo murmurs.

He hops up on his tiptoes to give Odo a small kiss before he dances away to go get dressed. "You want company at the doctor's?"

"Don't you have a bar to open? I'll be fine."

Quark pulls a garishly colored shirt over his head. "But what if you get bad news and I'm not there to comfort you in your time of need with tender yet skillful and passionate lovemaking?"

"Hrmmf."

"Or what if it's good news, and you're not dying, and I'm not there to celebrate with energetic and mindblowing--"

"I get the idea, Quark. I'll manage somehow."

"As long as you're sure." Quark shrugs on a paisley waistcoat and begins the arduous process of closing it with the multitudinous and flashy fastenings that he insists on--and delights in. The jacket is next and it actually manages to tone down the look, being a mostly solid color, until be affixes yet more nonsense to it. He fishes around in his closet, probably looking for a pair of trousers to complete the ensemble. He glances over his shoulder at Odo. "You'll come around to the bar to tell me the results, right?"

He cuts a funny little figure there, fully clothed from the waist up only, his jacket tails flapping next to his bare legs. He's ridiculous. Odo is in love with him. "Of course I will."

-

"Only thirteen hours?"

"Sometimes as few as twelve and a half."

Bashir's brow furrows. "And has this been constant since your changeling status was restored?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, has it been thirteen hours since then, or have your cycles progressively shortened since then?"

Odo thinks. "I didn't notice it at first," he says slowly, trying to recall. "I think that if it had been shorter from the start, I would have noticed. Could this be some kind of degenerative condition?"

"I don't have enough information yet. Have you experienced any difficulty maintaining your shape between regeneration periods?"

"Not at all."

"Well, then I have nothing to go on at all!" The doctor doesn't sound upset in the slightest; in fact, he seems intrigued by a new mystery to solve. Doctor Bashir stands and picks up his medical tricorder in one hand and another arcane instrument in the other. "I hope you're free for several hours, Constable, because I intend to throw gagh at the wall."

"Pardon me?"

"Throw gagh at the wall to see what sticks. In this case, it means to run every test in the book."

"My deputies are in charge until 1300 hours."

"Ah, that should give us more than enough time!"

-

It didn't.

After the second hour of testing, Odo had to contact his deputies and let them know he'd be indisposed a bit longer.

Bashir has been chatty, as usual, keeping up a spirited running dialogue about various things of various importance and relevance. He monologues animatedly as he conducts tests and compares results.

"...And that's how I discovered I don't much fancy bungee jumping! Have you ever been bun--" His voice trails off suddenly, and Odo raises an eyebrow. The doctor is staring at a screen in apparent disbelief.

"Doctor?"

"That can't be right," Bashir says under his breath. "I'm sorry, there's a test I need to redo."

"Is everything quite all right?"

"Yes, yes. I just got a result that was absolutely bizarre, that's all. I must have done something wrong." Bashir readies another syringe to take a tiny sample of Odo's body. (He'll give it back.)

"Ah. As you were saying?"

"Yes! As I was saying! Have you ever bungee jumped?"

"I've turned into a hawk and dropped from a cliff side," he says, watching as Bashir withdraws a little piece of him into a vial, then inserts the vial into some medical scanner or other.

"That doesn't count. Being pulled up short by the ankle is easily the worst part and a bird doesn't have that problem."

"I'll take your word for it."

"If only I could turn into a bird," Julian muses, clicking away at his touch panel. "I don't think I'd ever change back. I'd be the first bird doctor in Starfleet."

"Mm."

"Do you suppose--wait a moment." Bashir peers at the screen for a long, silent moment, his brow furrowed deeply.

"Problem, Doctor?"

"I'm going to run this test again. Third time's the charm, as they say."

Odo is starting to feel alarmed, but forces himself to stay calm as Bashir runs the test once more. The doctor frowns at the screens. Then his eyes widen. Then he scrambles, frantically pulling up some more files--Odo's medical chart, he realizes.

"Doctor, is it bad news?"

Silence. Bashir leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers.

"Doctor?"

"No," Bashir says slowly, dark eyes swiveling up to meet Odo's. There's a grin on his face. "but you aren't going to believe it."

"So I'm not dying, I take it."

"No, quite the reverse. Constable," Bashir says, audibly holding back a laugh, "congratulations. You're going to be a parent."

Odo blinks. "What?"

"You're pregnant! I love this part of the job!"

"I'm sorry, Doctor, my condition must be affecting my hearing," Odo says, shaking his head, "I thought I just heard you say that I'm pregnant."

"I assure you, you are. I ran the test three times. I'm reading two very separate biomimetic signatures from you. It's unmistakable. And--"

"How?!"

"That's the best part," Bashir says, "the second biomimetic signature is that of the baby changeling you rescued, Odo."

"The--" Emotion surges forth from a place Odo tries to keep under lock and key; he feels his insides quivering. Had he still a heart, it would be beating a hole through his ribs. He looks down at shaking hands, remembers feeling the baby absorb into his palms; the baby he grieved for, the baby he still grieves for. "The baby?"

"The baby is alive," Bashir says, and joy rises in Odo's chest, almost frantic, and he feels himself smiling before he realizes he's doing it.

The baby never died.

"Is it healthy?" he asks, barely able to keep his vocal cords together enough to manage words.

"It's healthier than it was before, that's for certain. I imagine its readings will only improve. You've been regenerating for two!"

Bashir babbles on, but Odo can barely hear. He doesn't know where exactly inside him the baby is residing; he assumes that the child shifts with him, when he changes shapes, and thus could be anywhere; still, he lays a hand over his abdomen, as if he can touch the baby underneath his surface. He hasn't felt the baby's presence as if they were linked, but he hopes that it knows it's loved.

"...There's no way to know when your due date is with only one data point, so you'll have to come in regularly for testing so that we can watch the baby's progress. I suppose it'll just stay with you until it's strong enough to live outside your body?" Bashir shakes his head. "I've never seen anything like this, Odo, I can't give you any solid information. But..." He grins. "Congratulations."

Odo pulls himself to his feet. Everything feels different now, somehow; his body is housing something precious, something valued beyond measure. "Thank you, Doctor," he says, then taps his combadge. "Odo to security. Clear my schedule for the day."

-

Odo goes straight from the infirmary to the bar with no side trips and no hesitation. He moves up to the bar and Quark's eyes widen as he sees him.

"You look serious. Bad news? Rom," he says gravely, leaning over to his brother, "clear holosuite six."

"No, Quark. It's not bad news."

Quark grins. "Good news? Rom, clear holosuite six!"

"I don't think that's appropriate in this situation." Odo lays his hands on the bartop.

"Not appropriate?!" Quark looks scandalized. "What kind of news renders a sexy romp in a holosuite inappropriate?!"

Odo decides that the best way to break the news is in the most straightforward manner possible. No dancing around the subject. "I'm carrying a baby inside of me."

Rom gasps. Quark blinks.

"Like, in your goop? That doesn't seem safe," Quark says. "Where are the parents? Can it even breathe in there?"

"No. I mean I'm carrying a developing baby. As in, I am--" he searches for words, "--gestating. There is a baby inside of me."

Several things happen all at once.

Three distinct emotions work across Quark's expressive face in immediate succession. First, there is shock, his mouth dropping open and his eyes widening comically huge. Then there is disbelief, brow ridges furrowing and mouth closing once more as he regards Odo carefully, then, just as rapidly as those emotions appeared, a third one shows up--sheer horror.

"Moogie warned me about this," he says, mostly to himself, then "Pregnant? How are you pregnant. I didn't think I could--how did I--You didn't tell me we should have used protection!"

Rom, clutching his chest, gasps. "Brother!" he cries, delighted, "you're going to be a fafa!"

"DABO!"

The usual bar noises are apparently too much for Quark, who claps his hands over his ears and shouts at top volume. "Quiet! Everybody be quiet for one frinxing minute!"

The bar falls silent at Quark's yell, every eye turning to them.

"How did I get you pregnant?" Quark asks, eyes wild.

If every patron of the bar wasn't listening before, they are now. Odo huffs and crosses his arms. "The baby isn't yours, you imbecile."

A woman who had been eating a salad gasps, a piece of lettuce falling from her mouth. A horrified murmur passes over the crowd. Quark throws his hands up, his voice rising in both pitch and volume. "That's worse! You do see how that's worse, right?!"

"The baby isn't mine, either, for that matter!"

"What?!" Quark looks like he's about to pass out.

"Quark. It's the baby. The baby you sold to me." He's smiling even as he's saying the words, like he can't believe they're true. "You were right when you told me it didn't really die. It didn't die at all. It's been--using me to heal itself."

Quark blinks several times. Then honest tears spring to his eyes and he grins wide, showing every single one of his sharp little teeth; he grabs Odo by the uniform and hauls him over the bar (partially clambering over the bar himself in the process) to plant a kiss on his mouth. "Drinks for everyone!" he shouts a little deliriously when he pulls back, and the bar returns to its previous state of rowdy noise as Quark's waiters start passing out drinks, and Quark only has eyes for Odo, like everything else in the bar doesn't exist.

"Drinks for everyone?" Odo says, amused. "That sounds like a profit loss."

"I'm feeling generous," Quark says, and swipes tears from his grinning face with his palms before kissing Odo again. Odo doesn't know whether he's crying from joy at the baby being alive, or relief at not being responsible for Odo's pregnancy. "C'mon, I've got some questions for you."

"I probably don't have answers."

Quark grabs Odo's hand and drags him upstairs to a quieter area of the bar, a corner near the holosuites and our of the way. They sit down at a table. "When's it due?" Quark asks.

"I don't know. This isn't technically a pregnancy at all. Neither I nor Doctor Bashir have any precedent for this."

"Right. Um, how about your dad? Sorry. Not your dad. The Bajoran doctor. Mora?"

"I will inform Doctor Mora that the baby is alive, yes," Odo says delicately, "but he has no more experience with this than I."

A dubious look passes over Quark's face. His lips scrunch and he crosses his arms. "Hate to be a killjoy, but how do we know this is... okay for you? How do we know the baby isn't... eating you, or something?"

Odo sighs. "We don't. But I'll be seeing Doctor Bashir daily. If the baby is hurting me, then--" Then what? What would he do? The question hangs heavy in his mind, and he doesn't have an answer. "Then I'll make a decision then, when there is more information."

"Don't let it kill you." Quark's eyes flash serious. "I'd be furious, Odo. Furious. I climbed a whole mountain for you."

I love you too much.

"I have no interest in dying, Quark. I'll endeavor not to."

Quark nods quickly and opens his mouth to say something when Odo's combadge interrupts him.

"Sisko to Odo."

Odo taps his badge. "Yes, Captain?"

"Please report to my office at your convenience. No rush at all."

"Acknowledged." He taps the badge again.

"I'll give you two guesses on what Sisko wants to talk about," Quark drawls, "the first one doesn't count."

"The news can't have spread that quickly."

-

The news spread that quickly.

"I hear that congratulations are in order," Sisko says, a smile lighting up his face the moment Odo enters the office.

Odo dips his head in acknowledgement. "Indeed, Captain, it appears that way."

Sisko opens his mouth to say something else when the door /whooshes/ open again. Odo doesn't have to look over his shoulder to know that it's Kira; her footsteps are distinct enough that Odo recognizes them. Commander Dax is hot on her heels.

"Is it true that you're pregnant?" Kira asks. Jadzia is grinning.

"I am carrying a baby changeling," Odo says, and is going to continue his statement when Kira interrupts him.

"Is it Quark's?!"

"No," Odo says. "I just said it's a baby changeling, how could it be Quark's?"

"I don't know! I don't know how changelings work! I'm just glad it's not Quark's! Thank the prophets," Kira breathes, laying a hand over her chest, at the exact same moment that Jadzia lets out a disappointed awww.

"It's the baby changeling that Quark sold to me. It didn't die when it absorbed into me," Odo explains.

"When is the due date?"

The door whooshes open again before Odo can respond. "Odo!" O'Brien says. "Congratulations! Keiko and I have some old things that Molly isn't using anymore that you might--"

The door doesn't have a chance to close before Worf is pushing into the room. "When is the baby due?" he asks with all the seriousness of an acute cardiac arrest.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" O'Brien asks.

Jadzia pipes up. "Do you have a name picked out?"

"I'm only going to say this once," Odo grinds out, his patience levels dropping precipitously. "Quark. Isn't. The. Father. The baby is the very same baby changeling that I assumed died several weeks back. I don't know when the due date is. There is no gender, the baby is a changeling. There is no name yet." His hands clench. "I don't even know if the baby is growing, or feeding off of me like a parasite; I don't know if it will attempt to overtake me, or if it will simply stay in its current state with me for the rest of my natural life. This is not a pregnancy, and I cannot emphasize enough that I have no information."

"Well, sorry," Kira grumbles. "Didn't mean to ruffle your feathers."

Sisko holds up his hand. "I only wanted to ask, Constable, if you wanted some time off from your duties, considering your current condition."

"Absolutely not. I am as capable of performing my duties as I was yesterday, and I intend to continue to carry them out." He folds his hands behind his back, straightens up to his full height--stretches up another few inches just to look haughtily down at everyone in the room a little better. There are different emotions painted on their faces; concern, excitement, disbelief, happiness. Odo does not have the patience to deal with it. "If that will be all, Captain?"

"That will be all, Constable."

Instead of pushing past the small crowd in Sisko's office, Odo transforms into a Rafalian mouse and darts between their feet and out of the office before taking his usual shape and ducking into the turbolift.

-

"Where exactly is the baby? Here?" Quark lays a hand on Odo's stomach, lightly and almost reverently, and Odo shakes his head.

"I assume the baby is distributed fairly evenly within the rest of me," he says, "but I suppose they could be anywhere."

"Heh." Quark chuckles and snuggles up underneath Odo's chin. "Are you linked with them? Because they're in you?"

"No. I don't think they're old enough to link yet."

"Mm."

"I feel like I've been given a second chance at raising this child," Odo murmurs, wrapping his arms around Quark and stroking the soft skin at the base of his skull. He can feel Quark start purring; the gentle vibration of it is calming in a way that's difficult for him to articulate. "It's tempting to think of this as some divine gift."

"Maybe it is. The Blessed Exchequer throws us a bone now and again."

"Hrmmf. I don't believe in any gods, least of all the Ferengi one."

"The disrespect! This is an outrage. You're a xenophobe." Quark noses affectionately at Odo's neck. Odo's gotten very used to Quark's odd displays of affection; rubbing his ridged nose along various parts of Odo's body is up there with the oddest, yet most intimate. "Maybe it's not the Exchequer. Maybe it's just," He lifts his hand from Odo's stomach, gestures vaguely, "serendipity."

Something resembling dread curls inside Odo at the word. "I am not accustomed to good things happening with no..."

"With no catch. Yeah, I get it." Quark props himself up, pushes Odo over onto his back and sprawls over the top of him, settling on his chest and looking at him. "Well, if it makes you feel better," he says, "we don't know that there isn't a catch."

"It doesn't." Odo quirks his brow ridges, reaches up to pet across the bumps of Quark's skull.

"Me neither." Quark's eyes slip halfway shut as he tilts his head into Odo's touch.

"Then why did you say it?"

"Rule number nineteen. 'Satisfaction is not guaranteed.'"

"Mm. But the riskier the road, the greater the profit."

"Why do you know so many Rules, Odo?"

He strokes gently down the outside shell of Quark's left ear. "I like to know my enemy."

"I'd say you know your enemy very deeply," Quark says over his low-rumbling purr, waggling his brow ridges salaciously and pushing his ear back a little harder against Odo's hand; then his eyes widen and he pauses, pulls his lobe from Odo's touch. "Wait. You're pregnant. We shouldn't be doing this."

He can't help but feel sort of affronted. "And why not?"

"There's a baby in you!" He looks scandalized. "Who knows what they're seeing in there!"

"Absolutely nothing, Quark! They aren't linked with me, and because they're inside my body and fused to me, I can safely say they're unable to perceive much of anything from outside. Not that they're likely to remember this, anyhow."

"Oh," Quark sighs, "then by all means." He tilts his head back against Odo's fingers and his purr strengthens as Odo rolls the helix of his ear between the pad of his index finger and his thumb.

"Very benevolent of you." Odo scrapes his thumbnail lightly across Quark's tragus; Quark shivers and melts down against him, pressing his other ear to Odo's chest as if to listen to him.

"I'm a benevolent person," Quark mumbles, nuzzling up against Odo's hand. He can feel Quark's purr reverberate through his own chest. He wants to feel it louder, so he intensifies the pressure he's placing on certain spots on Quark's ear.

Rousing success. He gets Quark purring so hard his teeth chatter a little. Odo doesn't play any musical instruments, but he thinks he plays Quark like one quite well.

-

Quark insists on being there when Odo goes to see Doctor Bashir two days later.

"The baby seems to have gained a bit of mass since the last time I took readings," Bashir says, looking over his tricorder's screen.

"Has Odo lost any?" Quark pipes up, worry on his face clear as anything.

"Not at all! Odo is as healthy as can be."

Odo feels Quark let out a sigh. He nudges his arm against his shoulder. "Thank you, Doctor. I'll be back in forty-eight hours."

-

It's two in the morning and Odo is in his bucket resting and regenerating; he's normally awake at this time to hold Quark as he falls asleep, but his shortened waking cycles have thrown off his schedule. He's not truly sleeping, of course, but he mostly tunes out his surroundings and meditates, floating in a state of semi-awareness.

He's aware when the door opens; he feels the tap of Quark's boots against the ground, then the pad of his bare feet as he moves around the quarters, going about his bedtime routine. Odo will be done with his regeneration cycle soon enough, and be able to climb into bed beside Quark, but for now he'll remain here.

He feels Quark approach his bucket, is aware as Quark kneels down beside it and settles back on his haunches. Quark peers into the bucket, eyes searching Odo's liquid form as if he's looking for something there.

"Hey, baby," he hears--not hears, he doesn't have ears, he perceives--Quark murmur. So that's what he was trying to spot. A glimpse of the child, maybe, swirling entwined with Odo.

Odo could tune this out, could return to his meditative, disconnected state, but he doesn't. Quark goes on.

"Please don't hurt Odo," he says, softly, and something in Odo's psyche hurts when he senses Quark's hands moving into that Ferengi gesture of supplication, wrists together and fingers curled in. "He's the best thing I ever stole. The best thing that was ever really mine." His voice drops lower in volume; Odo strains to pick it up. "He's more precious to me than latinum," he whispers, like a confession, like something shameful. "Don't take him away from me, baby. Please. Blessed Exchequer, baby, I--I would do anything."

Is he... crying? It's hard for Odo to tell. He wants nothing more than to take humanoid form and wrap Quark in his arms, but--would Quark be embarrassed? And it's never nice to cut regeneration cycles short...

"I've said my piece, I'll leave you alone." Quark pulls himself to his feet and clambers into bed. Odo keeps his focus on him, and then he senses Quark's shoulders shaking, and Odo can't stay in the bucket anymore even though he has around an hour of regeneration left. He pulls himself out of the pail, arranges himself into one of Quark's favorite forms--a Terran lioness, which is a creature very similar to a Vulcan sehlat but without the tusks. He's customized the form a little bit--or
a lot, to add more sehlat features; a little more fur and soft fat beneath the surface for optimal cuddling.

He climbs up onto the bed and stretches out next to Quark, pulls him close with one giant paw. Quark curls close, buries his face in Odo's neck and threads his fingers through his fluff over and over as he weakly tries to conceal his tears, and Odo wonders if he'd scent synthehol or kanar or whiskey on him, if he had a sense of smell.

He liquefies one of his paw pads, links up with Quark on a superficial level just enough to co-opt the use of his senses. Yes, there's a sharp, acid scent in the air. Some kind of drink. He withdraws from their small link and nuzzles his wide, feline face against Quark's head, holds him securely with strong forelegs, and says nothing.

"Did you hear any of that?" Quark asks, voice watery.

Odo hesitates for a second. Then he lies, shakes his head. It's a white lie, he thinks. Best not to embarrass him. And he might not even remember this in the morning.

"Okay," Quark mumbles. "That's... that's good."

Quark's hands eventually still, his body relaxing slowly and his breathing evening out as sleep takes him. Odo carefully, so carefully as not to wake his bedmate, shifts into his usual humanoid form and takes advantage of its opposable thumbs to arrange the bedclothes more securely over the both of them before he lets go of form completely and molds himself to the contours of Quark's body. When Quark starts to wake, he'll take his customary form again; but for now, he can continue to regenerate.

He can feel Quark purring softly in his sleep.

-

In Quark's opinion, he's handling Odo's pregnancy with an astonishing and frankly inspiring amount of grace. Holofilms should be made in honor of his composure and bravery in the face of his bedmate being infested with a strange parasite. Maybe he'll write an autobiography. It'll be a best-seller.

He hasn't once stayed up until the wee hours of the morning unable to think of anything but the terrible possibility that the pregnancy might not go perfectly.

Not. Once.

No, the fact that he isn't sleeping as well has more to do with the fact that Odo is so clingy. It's definitely not him that's been needy in the middle of the night.

He tells Jadzia as much. "Uh-huh," she says, eyes narrowing. "You're not even a little worried?"

"Not even a bit," Quark snaps, slamming a bottle of kanar back onto the shelf. "Why should I be? Bashir and Odo have everything under control. All I have to do is--is--sit back and wait."

"Right. Because you just love when events are out of your control."

"I can't change anything, so why worry about it?" He sweeps their tongo chips into a pile and starts straightening the cards. "I tell you, I'm fine."

"And I'm a Klingon targ."

He hisses at her, teeth bared as he snarls.

"Very scary," she teases. "You're not going to fool me, Quark. When Tobin's wife was pregnant, I didn't sleep for months. I was scared for her."

"Tobin was scared of everything," Quark says, and Jadzia lightly smacks the back of his head.

"I'm just saying, I might not be able to link with you," Jadzia says, "but I know what's going on in your head, Quark."

"Whatever."

She reaches out and briefly pets his ear--she's familiar enough with Ferengi anatomy that she can carefully avoid spots that are sensitive like that and stick to the areas that are nice to touch in an innocent way--intimate, but friendly. His eyes close; despite himself, he appreciates the comfort her touch offers. "It's okay to be scared," she murmurs, drops her hand to his shoulder to tug him in for a hug. He sighs and gently headbutts her shoulder, lets her wrap an arm around him.

"If I weren't deeply in love with Odo I'd be enjoying this a lot more," he mumbles into her uniform, and she snorts, rests her chin on his head. "I'm serious. Why couldn't you have held me to your ample bosom three years ago?"

"Because three years ago, you were still trying to kiss me."

"We could still kiss now. As friends," he says.

"I could call your bluff. You'd have to do it for your own pride."

"Please don't. Kira would turn me inside out and mount my mangled corpse in her office as a trophy. And I'd almost deserve it."

"You're not tall enough to reach me, anyway." She pulls back and smiles fondly down at him. "Go home, Quark. Your man is waiting."

-

Sure enough. Odo is there when Quark enters their quarters, lying on the bed and reading from his PADD. He's wearing the incredibly ugly pajamas he bought as a humanoid, and Quark can't help but smile at the sight. Odo doesn't need to wear clothes at all, but he's taking pleasure in the sheer sensory experience of soft, warm knit. He'd never have done that before he had his experience as a solid. In the long run, Quark thinks, it was good for him.

It also means that he's naked under there. He's technically always naked now that he's a shapeshifter again, Quark knows that--but right now he's naked naked under those pajamas.

"Those are still hideous," Quark says, "that green doesn't flatter you at all."

Odo's mouth twitches into a little smile but he doesn't look up from his PADD. "Then it's a good thing I didn't buy them to impress you."

"They're not gonna impress anybody. They shouldn't have impressed you. The fit isn't doing you any favors, either."

"If you hate them so much," Odo says lightly, still not looking up from his PADD, "why don't you come take them off of me?"

His jaw drops for a second at the open flirtation before he feels himself smile. He doesn't hesitate one second. He crosses the room, reaches out and grabs Odo's PADD, places it on the bedside table, and leans down to kiss Odo's smug, smirking mouth.

"Are you just wearing these," Quark says, tugging at the pajama shirt, "so you could say that come-on?"

"Possibly," Odo replies. He pulls Quark down over him, easily arranging them so Quark is straddling his waist, sitting neatly in his lap.

"If you want to get frisky, you just have to ask," Quark teases, dipping down to nip at Odo's jawline, press obnoxiously wet kisses to his neck. Odo gives a soft hmmm, tilting his head back to afford Quark better access as his own hands slip up Quark's back; one of them meets the skin at the base of his skull and Quark sighs as he feels Odo initiate a link. Odo's warmth and contentment radiates strong from him, a kind of bone-deep happiness that Quark is amazed that he is responsible for.

They've gotten better at linking; not all of them are all-encompassing, a total merging of their separate consciousnesses into a single being. Sometimes they're like this; surface-level, Odo tapping into Quark's senses and nerve endings, their thoughts and emotions brushing each other feather-light. Useful when Quark wants Odo to taste something ("Here! Try this! You'll hate it!"), or when Odo misses the scent of Quark's perfume. Useful when they just ache for a little more closeness.

Quark sends warmth right back across their bond, love, softness that he's incapable of--or unwilling to--say out loud. It's true that all he feels is Odo; there's nothing unfamiliar in their link, the baby is nowhere to be found. Thank the Exchequer. He just savors the bond for a moment, distracted only when Odo starts unfastening Quark's waistcoat. The link breaks temporarily as Quark shrugs out of it, his own hands sliding up Odo's pajama shirt and revealing what feels like kilometers of freakishly smooth, perfectly unblemished skin and--

--And there's a lump about the size of half of Sisko's baseball, right over the left side of Odo's ribcage, or where it would be if he had bones under there. He screeches and yanks away, almost falling backward and teetering awkwardly there in Odo's lap. "What's THAT?" he splutters, motioning down at the strange rounded protrusion.

"What's what?" Odo has the audacity to look affronted for a second before his eyes follow Quark's motions and he freezes, surprised. "I... don't know," he says slowly. "I think it must be the baby."

"We need to go see Doctor Bashir. Right now!" Quark scrambles to his feet and re-buttons his waistcoat. Odo is still looking thoughtfully at the lump, poking it gently with a finger. "Odo! Are you listening? The doctor, right now!"

"It's three in the morning, Quark, I can go tomorrow, there's no reason to wake--"

Quark hisses and grabs Odo's combadge off the bedside table, taps it. "Quark to Bashir, the baby is doing something weird!"

It takes a second before Bashir responds. "Hwah? Bashir here."

More words, picked up faintly by the combadge: "Julian? What is it?" Garak's voice, thick with sleep. Hah. Quark doesn't have time to be smug about it and ask what Garak is doing there at 0300 hours. He's too concerned.

"I'm sure it's nothing, doctor, it's just that I seem to have formed a mass," Odo says by way of explanation. Bashir makes a concerned noise.

"A mass?" Bashir sounds much more awake at that. "I'll meet you in the infirmary as soon as possible. Bashir out."

-

"That... certainly is a mass, all right," Bashir says, rubbing sleep from his groggy eyes. "Well, let's take a look."

Quark watches, the very picture of calm, as Bashir scans the protrusion first with his medical tricorder, then with some other instrument. "Well?!" Quark yelps, calmly, "what is it? Is Odo okay?!"

Bashir and Odo fix Quark with twin owlish stares. Clearly neither of them are used to such stoicism in the face of an emergency. "He's fine," Bashir says. "The baby's biomimetic signature is coming solely from the area of the mass now. This," he motions to it, "is a baby bump."

"They've stopped shifting with me," Odo says. "I imagine that means they're getting stronger?"

"Their readings are getting healthier and healthier, yes." He pulls up the baby's growth chart and plots another point on it. "They've gained even more mass, as well, and--"

"More mass? Odo's not losing any, right?"

"No," Bashir says, "the baby still doesn't appear to be harming Odo in the slightest, Quark. Please, stop shouting, it's very late." He shuffles around in a drawer for something, apparently finds it; he holds up a hypospray. "Ah, there we--"

"What's that?!" Quark asks. "Some kind of medication?! What are you giving him?!"

"This is two ccs of terakine," he says, pressing the hypo to his own neck and pushing the trigger, "for the headache your voice is aggravating. Odo is fine."

"Thank you," Odo says. "I'm sorry to wake you."

"No, no, it was the right thing to do. Don't hesitate to call again if there are further developments. I prescribe a good night's rest for you, Odo--and for you as well, Quark."

"Good night, Doctor," Odo says, and steers Quark out of the infirmary and toward the turbolift.

"A baby bump," Quark says once they get in, eyeing the curvature of it low on Odo's ribcage. He reaches out tentatively. "Can I--?" Odo nods and Quark touches it. It's firm and warm like the rest of Odo is. Roughly the same odd, springy texture.

A weird feeling works its way through Quark's chest. His own ribcage suddenly feels too small to contain him, somehow, like he could burst out of it, and there's this sense of--he's not sure what to call it, but it's the same feeling he got when he saw a hundred bars of latinum in the same place for the first time.

The same feeling as when he broke Ferenginar's gravity for the first time and saw the full array of stars beyond his homeworld's perpetual storm clouds.

"That's a hell of a thing," he mumbles, pulling his hand back, and Odo hums agreement.

They make their way back to their (Quark's) quarters and Odo is back in bed immediately. He's under the covers, but Quark sees his shoulders shift--out of his simulated clothes and back to simulated skin. "Shall we pick up where we left off?" he purrs, and Quark hesitates.

"Ah... are you sure?"

"That's a first," Odo says, raising a brow ridge, "normally you're already on top of me by now."

"It's just--the baby is right there!" he finally says, motioning at Odo's body as he undresses. "They're--watching!"

"They are not," Odo huffs. "They aren't perceiving anything that's going on."

"Can we--put a blindfold on it?"

"It doesn't have eyes, Quark!"

"I just--it's weird!"

"Are you going to remain celibate until the baby has left my body?" Odo crosses his arms. "Which, I remind you, we don't know when that will be. It could be years."

"Well--no, I--"

"Ah, so you're going to leave me?"

"What?! No!"

"So you're going to have an affair, maybe with one of your many dabo girls, hm? While I'm with child?"

"Odo!"

The corners of Odo's lips turn up, revealing his hand; he's playing with Quark like a cat with a mouse's tail pinned under its paw. "I suppose you simply find me repulsive now," he sighs. Quark hisses at him, halfheartedly.

"That's not true, and you know it."

"Oh? Then come kiss me."

Quark does, climbs onto the bed and kisses him soundly, and yeah, okay, it's weird, but they can pick up where they left off, probably. Odo pulls him close and Quark can feel the bump but it's fine, it's just part of Odo, the strange alien creature he's in love with. Odo's fingers twine with his and go soft, oozy, flowing down between his digits to wrap around his wrist; their link flares to life again from that point of contact and Quark sighs with the sensation of it, of being so entwined with another--

--and then the bump between them squirms independently and Quark shrieks, breaking the link and pulling back. As he watches, the lump makes its way from one side of Odo's chest to the other.

"Hm," Odo says. "That... hm."

"I--it can move," Quark squeaks.

"That felt--extremely off-putting, actually."

"Oh, did it?" Quark asks weakly. "Was that off-putting for you?"

"Immensely. Quark," he says, "is it all right if we just link while you sleep? The baby and I will regenerate here next to you?"

Quark smiles, relieved. "Yeah," he says. "C'mere, Constable."

Odo rolls his eyes fondly before adopting his true form, an affectionate amber puddle that curls up at Quark's side and extends over his chest and stomach like a blanket, relaxing there. Their link forms again, every point of contact between them feeling pleasantly warm.

The baby is somewhere in that puddle.

"Night, Odo," he murmurs aloud, knowing he's no good at projecting thoughts in word form through the link. Ferengi really are terrible telepaths. "Night, baby."

-

The baby is small enough that Odo is able to hide it successfully just by shifting around so it's deeper inside his body. He can't put it in his chest, because he has lungs there that he needs in order to form words; he puts it in his lower abdomen.

Sometimes it... migrates, but it's simple enough to move it back into place.

"Uh, Constable?" O'Brien says, gesturing to his own neck, "you've got a little... uh..."

"Thank you," Odo says stiffly, moving the baby back down into his general stomach area.

Bashir continues to plot out points on the baby's growth chart.

-

In a few weeks, the child is too large for Odo to hide.

Quark notices it when Odo strolls into the bar an hour or so before close, as he does frequently. It's subtle, but Quark is attuned to Odo's body, and painfully aware of the changes he's been going through. The rounding at his stomach looks like that of any pregnant humanoid. Quark would know it anywhere.

Odo carries himself the same way he always does, straight and tall, which does absolutely nothing to de-emphasize the soft swell low at his stomach.

Affection grows in Quark's chest like a thorny, invasive plant. Affection and something else that's hard to recognize but makes him feel weak-kneed and wanting, but wanting what? Odo steps closer and settles in at the bar, laying a hand down across the bartop. Quark takes it almost automatically, a superficial link coming alight between them.

It's a balm to his greedy soul, but that feeling doesn't go away.

It reminds him of being afraid. It feels like fear and love got together and...

And had a baby. He finishes the thought almost hysterically.

"You're showing," he blurts out, nodding down toward Odo's stomach.

"You're the first to notice," Odo replies, "or the first to say anything about it."

"I need my hand back," Quark says, "I still have to be a bartender."

"I could arrest you," Odo offers. "Can't tend bar in a holding cell."

"Aren't you helpful. And what would you be arresting me for?"

"I'm sure I could think of something between here and the brig." He lets go of Quark's hand anyway, the link breaking off.

"No, thanks. Maybe another time." Quark blows him a kiss before moving to refill someone else's glass.

-

Odo likes to watch Quark work.

He always has. He likes watching Quark interact with his customers, put on his sweet, obliging people-pleaser tone and manner. He likes watching Quark mix drinks, clever hands manipulating bottles and shakers. He likes how Quark shimmies his shoulders when he works his way through a crowd, he likes how light on his feet he is as he dances from holosuites to dabo tables to the bar and back again.

Quark is in his element here.

He might not be a perfect Ferengi, only owning one bar, but Odo thinks Quark would languish in a true overhead management position. He'd waste away if he had nothing to do but sit behind a desk and move numbers around, wither like an unwatered plant.

Yes, Quark belongs here, in a customer-facing role. It's where he comes alive. And he's a joy to see.

For some reason, Odo's deputies have insisted on taking the late-night shifts recently. They deny that it has anything to do with the baby, or concern for Odo's rest schedule. Odo thinks that's preposterous. Still, he won't complain. The fact that his rounds are in the afternoon and early evening means that he can stroll down to the bar a bit before close, people-watch (Quark-watch), and then, after the bar is shut down and Quark has closed everything up, take a nice leisurely walk by his side up to their quarters.

Sometimes he'll kiss the Ferengi senseless in the turbolift. Or, if he's the only one closing in the bar, Odo will kiss him senseless right there.

It's odd; when he was a solid, his longing for contact--romantic contact, with Quark--felt almost like a physical requirement, pressing, like the need to sleep or eat. Like his body would revolt if it couldn't get this type of nourishment. Now that he's back to his normal self, more or less, the need is purely psychological. It's less urgent, but just as tempting. Like now, as dextrous fingers count latinum and close out the register.

Odo wants to kiss him.

(Odo wants to do a lot of things to him.)

He turns his attention to his PADD, which he's been reading from periodically all night. Doctor Bashir lent him one of his favorite spy novels. Odo doesn't much see the appeal so far, but he'll finish it so that he can at least critique it properly.

Quark is now gently shooing tipsy patrons from the premises, telling them they can come back tomorrow, of course, they can even have an extra play at the dabo table on the house for being such loyal and enthusiastic customers. Odo hmphs, a little bit fond and a little bit exasperated. An extra play, indeed. People rarely stop at one play, and Quark knows it. Give them one for free and they'll keep going at their own expense. He's rewarding the customers for spending so much money by enticing them to spend even more--giving the appearance of generosity while being completely and utterly self-serving.

He's so devastatingly clever. Odo supposes that's one of the reasons he's so in love with him.

Odo really wants to kiss him. Waiting to get him into the turbolift is getting increasingly difficult.

All but two of the patrons leave. The ones that remain are across the establishment at the dom-jot tables. Two Klingon males, young adults. As Odo watches, they feed the table they're playing at another slip of latinum, starting a new game.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, the bar's closed," Quark calls out to them a little louder.

They ignore him. A few bottles of bloodwine sit near them, presumably empty.

"Did you hear me? You need to leave," Quark says, raising his voice.

One of the Klingons acknowledges him finally, making a vague, rude hand gesture and snapping some slurred Klingon words that Odo's universal translator doesn't even try on. Odo stands and crosses the floor over to the dom-jot tables.

"If you won't listen to the proprietor of this establishment, perhaps you'll listen to the station's security chief," Odo says, snaking his arm into a long tendril that flicks out and and hits the off switch beneath the dom-jot table. Just as quickly as it flicks out, it's back into normal arm shape. "Find somewhere else to drink."

The Klingons turn to face Odo, puffing their shoulders and stalking forward a few steps toward Odo. One of them growls. "Are you going to make us, shapeshifter?"

Well, great. He was hoping it wouldn't come to this, that his evening wouldn't be dominated by having to drag two rowdy drunks to a holding cell to sober up. He'd much rather have a quiet night walking Quark home and regenerating peacefully at his side. "Yes," he says, eyes narrowing, and the two men square up, step forward and--

--and then Quark has vaulted over the damned bar and has put himself between Odo and the Klingons, arms outstretched as if to shield him, lips pulled back and teeth bared as he hisses, pure rage in his body language. "Don't you touch him!" he snarls, fingers curling, clawlike. "Get out, now!"

Lovely. Now Quark is trying to get himself killed. Another variable Odo has to juggle.

"Quark!" Odo barks, grabbing him by the back of the collar and gently tossing him aside, "you idiot--"

He turns his attention back to the Klingons who look absolutely stunned as Quark scrambles right back to his feet and Odo has to hold him back with a too-long appendage, and the Klingons start laughing.

"There's no honor in fighting that tiny thing," one of them chortles as the other clutches his stomach and wheezes. "Nor you, while distracted by him!" He jerks his head at his companion. "Ramod! There is more wine--better wine!--on the ship!"

The two men make their way out of the bar; Quark snarls a hiss at them again as they pass by.

The door closes and Odo's eyes swivel to Quark.

"Quark," Odo says lowly, "what the hell do you think you just did?"

"Shut up," Quark snaps, straightening his lapels and tugging his waistcoat down. "I did what I had to--and it worked, didn't it?"

"You threw yourself physically in front of two Klingons at least three times your size--"

"Don't exaggerate, twice my size maybe--"

"--and you have precious little in the way of fighting ability, you have sharp teeth and that's about it--"

"It worked, didn't it?!"

"They were drunk, Quark, their behavior wasn't predicable, and if their moods had swung the other way they could have flattened you!" Odo's voice is rising in volume as he processes what just happened. "I don't need you to leap to my rescue, Quark, I am far more capable of defending myself than you are! I--"

Quark's hands ball into fists, his brow ridges furrowing hard as he hisses again in frustration and... desperation? He's breathing hard, adrenaline pumping. "Don't be stupid! I wasn't defending you!"

Instantly Quark's expression morphs from anger to shock to horror at what just came out of his mouth, but he can't take the words back. They ring in the air between them. All the frustration drains from Odo's mind.

"Who were you defending?"

He knows the answer. He asks anyway.

"I'm going to bed." Quark turns on his heel.

"No. Say it." Odo grabs Quark's shoulders, spins him back around to look in his eyes. "Who were you defending, Quark?"

"My profits," Quark spits, eyes wild. "If you'd hauled them off to the drunk tank, they might not have come back to spend more latinum!"

"Your profits."

"Why else would I do something so stupid?! I can't think of any other reason!" He wrenches his shoulders out of Odo's grip. "I--have to go. I have--a thing."

"You said you were going to bed."

"Nope! I remembered I had a thing. It's important! You know how it is," he says, gesturing vaguely as he exits the bar like it's caught fire, leaving Odo standing there watching him go.

I wasn't defending you.

...Huh.

-

Get it together, Quark! What's your frinxing problem?

Quark paces back and forth in front of the window that looks over the wormhole. It's two in the morning at this point and nobody's around. Quark is alone with his thoughts, and it's awful.

A month ago he would have hidden behind the bar and let Odo handle it--because he can handle it, Odo is terrifying, he could turn into a sabertusk mammoth and squash them--but he didn't today. Today, he jumped up and put himself physically in front of Odo before he even thought about it. If he'd thought about it for a split damned second he wouldn't have done it. He'd been working on autopilot, completely instinctive.

He's sure Odo's in his bucket with the baby--the damn baby--regenerating. Quark is free to panic up here in the deserted corners of the promenade as long as he wants to with absolutely no interruptions.

Why had he done it?

What's wrong with him?

He finds himself heading for Jadzia (and Kira)'s quarters before he fully realizes what he's doing. He taps the panel outside her door. A gentle beeping sounds from within and Quark wonders for a moment of maybe bothering her at two in the morning is crossing a line.

Nah. Trying to kiss her in a holosuite years ago, that had been crossing a line. Hadn't affected their friendship, though.

"Who is it?" he heard Jadzia's sleepy, mildly irritable voice from the panel.

"You missed our tongo game tonight," Quark lies.

"That's two days from now."

"Huh. Well, now that you're awake, can I come in?"

"One second." Rustling, then her voice again. "Yes, enter."

The door slides open and Quark steps inside, blinking against the darkness.

"Computer, lights at forty percent." Jadzia pads out into the main part of her quarters wrapped up in a fluffy robe. "You're lucky Kira's on the night shift tonight. She'd kill you for this." Her hair is down, her makeup off. She looks rumpled and sleepy, but her eyes fix hawkishly, appraisingly, on Quark. "You look like hell," she says finally.

"Thanks, you look gorgeous," Quark grumbles.

She leans on her doorframe and peers at him. "What are you doing here, Quark? It had really better be good."

Quark holds up his hands and opens his mouth as if he's about to gesture and speak, but the words half-form in his brain and then fizzle out like seltzer bubbles on his tongue. "I don't know," he finally says, hands dropping to his sides helplessly. "I did something really weird, Dax, and I don't know why."

"This is about Odo."

"How'd you figure?"

"I'm psychic." She moves over to the replicator; she punches in a code and withdraws a tray with two mugs and an overfilled bowl of something on it. "C'mon. Follow me." She beckons him into her bedroom.

"Speaking of things I would have loved three years ago," Quark sighs mostly to himself, scurrying after her.

She sits on her bed and pats a spot across from her. "Sit." Quark obeys her and Jadzia hands him a mug.

"What's this?"

"Hot cocoa." She sips from it. "And those are chocolate-covered crickets."

"Do I look that bad?"

Jadzia quirks her eyebrows and pops a couple of crickets into her mouth.

"Where'd you get a taste for bugs, Dax?"

"Ferenginar, where else? Eat some. You'll feel a little better."

Quark drinks some of the hot cocoa, eats a few of the crickets. The chocolate tempers the crunch, but at least they're Ferengan crickets so they're big enough to bother with. "Thanks," he mumbles.

"So what happened?"

"It was stupid. Some meathead Klingon kids were in the bar and didn't want to leave. They got in Odo's face and--" He hesitates. "And I jumped in front of him. It's hard to even remember, it's all--all cloudy."

"An adrenaline rush will do that to you. Then what happened?"

"I told them to get out and they did. And Odo asked why I did it and--and I--why did I do it?"

"I don't know. Odo can take care of himself."

"I know! But it's like I--he's showing now, you know that? Did you see it today?" Quark gives a hysterical half-laugh.

"I did. And why," Jadzia pauses and sips from her mug again, "is his pregnancy relevant to what you did?"

"It just is!"

"Then you know exactly why you did it," Jadzia says, "and are afraid to confront it. It's okay. Tobin was afraid to be a father too."

Of the many things Quark does upon hearing that last sentence, hyperventilating and ending up thrown into another panic spiral is absolutely not one of them.

-

Tobin was afraid to be a father too.

As if Quark could ever be a father. As if he would ever, in a million years, parent a child.

As if he could.

He could provide genetic material, obviously, but that's different from being a dad. There are some things Quark isn't equipped for and never will be. Flying. Breathing underwater. Parenting.

He hauls himself back toward his quarters, using his PADD to send a notice out to his servers that he won't be opening in the morning and needs someone to cover him. Immediately there's a volunteer to pick up the shift and earn a few more strips of latinum for it--a distinct advantage of Ferengi staff.

Afraid to be a father. Hah. He has to laugh. So why isn't he?

He opens the door to his quarters and finds Odo in bed--or on top of the bed, in liquid form, pooled carefully there. He wants to cuddle, but couldn't hold his form together any longer.

Quark smiles and undresses, and when he climbs onto the bed the pile that is Odo (and the baby) scoots aside to let him in, then stretches over the top of him and relaxes.

A link forms, so superficial and surface-level that Quark can hardly feel it. "Are you asking for permission? I'm giving it," Quark says out loud, and he senses a vague hint of gratitude before the connection deepens.

I shouldn't have called you stupid earlier, Odo thinks into his brain, I shouldn't have given you trouble over what happened.

"'S fine."

Affection and warmth works across their bond as sweet and slow as syrup, but Quark feels other emotions of Odo's through the link, too. Fear from earlier as Quark had thrown himself in harm's way. Sadness as Quark had thrown himself from the bar like he was allergic to it. The faintest glow of hope, as Quark had said he wasn't protecting Odo, that still lingers now. Odo's soft, pliable form curls around him, nestles under his chin.

And then Quark recognizes the same emotion he'd felt earlier.

That same unidentifiable feeling that is like love mixed with fear. Odo is experiencing it too, and he's just as out of his depth as Quark. The urge to comfort him is impossible to ignore.

"It's gonna be okay, you know that, right?" He lets one of his hands rest on Odo's surface. Odo ripples beneath his palm before letting it sink into him a bit, contouring to Quark's hand as if holding it. "I swear. You're gonna take amazing care of this baby."

We will?

The thought is hesitant.

"Yeah," Quark says, because he doesn't have to be a father to help take care of a baby, right? Sitters do it all the time. How hard can it be? "We will."

-

"We're going to need two undercover operatives for this," Sisko says. "Kira, Dax, you've got this."

Kira and Dax agree and Odo is filled with indignant outrage. "Captain," he says, "this mission is perfectly suited to my abilities!"

"Normally I'd agree, Constable, however--"

"Instead of having two of the crew masquerade as members of the cell long enough to gain access to their plans--which I remind you could take weeks--I could take the form of a Terran rat and have the plans within a day. Two at most."

An unreadable look passes between Dax and Kira. Sisko smiles that firm-but-gentle father's smile at him. "Odo," he says, "please feel free to demonstrate how you plan to carry the baby while you're a rat."

The baby. An image forms in Odo's mind of a rat's skin and fur stretched around a basketball, feet sticking out awkwardly and unable to touch the floor. What would he do? Roll around?

"I see your point," he grumbles, crossing his arms firmly. The baby has only gotten larger. It's noticeable to everyone, now.

"Besides. There's no shame in avoiding more dangerous assignments when you have more than yourself to worry about," Sisko says. He's right, of course. Odo hates it.

"I'm still capable of doing my job."

"But the child inside of you deserves for you to take every precaution, does it not?"

Odo straightens up. "Understood, Commander."

-

As it happens, Kira and Dax aren't gone for weeks, they're gone for one week.

"Wow," Kira says, looking Odo over. "I see there's been, uh, progress."

"Indeed," Odo says gravely, "the baby has started to move."

"Move?" Dax smiles. "Like they're kicking?"

"I suppose you could call it that." As if on cue, the baby reaches out--one long spike of a tendril extending from Odo's stomach and poking into nowhere, almost a foot long. Odo gently mushes it back down with the palm of his hand only for the baby to extend another pesky poky protuberance, which Odo also pushes back into himself with another hand.

A third questing little spike. Odo manifests yet a third hand to smash it carefully down.

Kira looks horrified but also is choking back a laugh, which is an interesting reaction. "You're getting to the part of pregnancy where it's not cute anymore," she says, patting him on the shoulder. "It's all fun and games at the start. And then you start to wonder when it's going to be over."

"Lela had a tough time. She could hardly move toward the end," Dax says. "Are you having any mobility issues?"

"I'm not--" Odo pauses. The two women are looking at him almost hopefully, and Odo realizes that they're trying to relate to him about this. They're not just trying to. They are. And even if this isn't strictly-speaking a pregnancy, it might as well be. Somehow, he appreciates their camaraderie, and it would be rude to shrug it off. They're expecting him to relate back. "I can hardly bend over," he says like a confession, tipping his head down toward them. "Did you experience that?"

Both women nod and make sympathetic noises.

It's... nice.

-

"Something occurred to me today."

"Oh?"

"Mm." Odo is lying on his back, Quark curled up in the crook of his arm. One of Quark's hands rests on Odo's stomach. "The baby gave me my shapeshifting back. Do you think I can only shift because they're inside me? That I'll be solid again once they leave?"

"Odo, I can't imagine it would work like that."

"We don't know how it works."

"I don't know how the wormhole works, but it still manages to get me to the Gamma Quadrant and back all right. You're going to be okay," Quark says, with a certainty Odo is sure he doesn't feel.

-

"The amount of time I can go between regenerations has dropped precipitously within the past week," Odo says. "I have found that eight-hour periods of holding humanoid form with four-hour periods of regeneration between them is the most efficient way to divide my day."

"Well, you look like you're about to pop." Bashir scans him with his tricorder. "The baby's life signs look excellent. No trace of illness whatsoever, Constable." He sets the tricorder down and looks thoughtful, fingers moving up to cover his mouth.

"That's good news," Quark says, having yet again insisted on coming along, "so why do you look so worried?"

"Because I'm honestly not sure how this pregnancy is going to end." Bashir gestures vaguely for a second before he folds his arms. "Either the baby will come out on its own, somehow, or--we'll have to remove it surgically." He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm just not sure how to separate it from you. There isn't exactly an umbilical cord to cut."

"Then let's hope for the first option."

-

Quark likes taking Odo out on dates. It makes him feel like he's taking care of Odo, which is nice. Before, when Odo was stuck in a roughly human body, Quark took pleasure in giving him new foods to try. Now, things are a little different; when Quark takes him to eat, only one plate is ordered. Odo holds Quark's hand and lets his palm turn to liquid to link with him, and Quark will do the tasting for both of them.

"Your taste buds are better than mine ever were," Odo observes, watching as Quark chews a bite of hasperat. Odo has a soft spot for Bajoran food.

"Ferengi senses are better than hu-man ones. You know I don't like hasperat when I try it on my own?"

"I suppose I give you the taste for it," Odo says fondly, lifting a forkful of spicy pickled veggies that escaped the wrap to Quark's mouth. Onlookers probably think it's disgustingly cute. Too bad they don't realize Odo is essentially just feeding himself. Quark crunches the peppers and shredded leafy something, enjoys the flavor as Odo does.

"I'll be taking parental leave," Odo says, "when the baby is--born."

"I'll take time off from the bar too."

"You don't have to. I--"

"Odo. I let you do your own thing with the baby the first time and I stepped back because it was your business." He pauses, gives half a smile. "Now I've been sharing a bed with the two of you, so at this point I think it's my business, too."

"Don't tell me you're getting attached, now." Odo's strange brand of mischief plays across their link.

"Nah."

Quark is almost done with their shared meal when someone catches sight of Odo and stops, addresses him. A cute, freckly Orion girl. "Constable! Thank you again for helping me the other day, I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't found that earring!"

Quark feels Odo recognize her. Images flash in Quark's mind. The earring was pretty. Her great-grandmother's.

Odo tips his head in her direction. "Of course. It was no problem, miss. Was your mother relieved to have it back?"

"Thanks to you, she never knew it was gone!" The girl turns her eyes to Quark. "You must be Quark! Your boyfriend is such a great guy, you know that?"

"I tolerate him okay," Quark muses, squeezing his hand.

"Anyway, Constable, I'd love to do something for you, for all you helped me!"

"That's really not necessary, miss--"

"She knows it's not necessary, Odo, let her speak! What do you want to do for us?"

"Well--have you got a name picked out for the baby yet? So I know what names to write on the card?"

Panic from Odo etches firmly on Quark's brain. "Ah--"

"We haven't decided yet," Quark cuts in, unwilling to let Odo flounder. "Can we get back to you?"

"Sure! Sure! I'll be here for another week!" She smiles brightly. "Hey, I've gotta run, I'm meeting some friends in the holosuites, I'll catch you later! Thanks again!"

In a swish of long auburn hair she's gone, and Odo still feels like he's miles off, stuck on the name question.

"Hey," Quark murmurs, pushing to deepen their link, "you okay?"

Odo breaks off their link, shakes himself. "I'm fine," he says. Quark might not be in his head anymore, but he knows bullshit when he hears it.

-

"Okay, what the hell is going on," Quark says, toweling off from his shower. "You've been acting weird ever since that girl asked about the baby's name."

"I have not," Odo grumbles. He stretches and morphs and transforms into his weird, huge cat shape. Even as big as he is like this--and he is huge--the baby rounds him out a little extra in the stomach. He climbs onto the bed and rests his giant head on his giant paws.

"And now you're trying to avoid talking to me, the man who eats hasperat for you, by being a lion." Quark hangs up his towel and gets on the bed, reaches out to hold Odo's fluffy head between his hands and look into eyes that are blue and deep-set even like this, the exposed skin of the lioness's nose just a little too smooth and even in color. He bumps his own ridged nose against Odo's, and Odo hooks a feline arm around Quark to tug him in closer and lie down with him properly.

"I'm serious," Quark says.

"Mrrrrrrrrr," Odo growls, like a lion.

"What're you gonna do? Eat me?" Quark rolls his eyes and grabs one of Odo's paws, presses his palm against the soft pad of it. "Well?"

It's obvious that he's asking for a link. Odo sighs deeply and melts his paw pad, forges their familiar connection along well-trod neural pathways.

"Now what's got you so bent out of shape?" Quark nudges Odo with his elbow. "Get it? Bent out of shape? Because you're a big cat."

Odo sighs deeply. I get it, Quark.

"You didn't laugh."

First of all, how am I supposed to laugh in this form? He nudges his nose against Quark's cheek. Second of all, it wasn't funny.

"Yes, it was. You just don't have a sense of humor." Quark scritches behind one of Odo's rounded, furry ears. Quark is pretty sure no lion /or/ sehlat is actually this soft and fluffy, but he's never seen either creature in person, so who is he to judge? "Now are you going to answer my question or are you gonna keep deflecting?"

Their link, at the moment, is shallow enough that they aren't thinking each other's thoughts. The only way Quark can hear him outright is if Odo deliberately projects words into his mind.

I hadn't even thought about naming the baby, Odo finally says. Names aren't that important.

"Yes, they are!"

Why? They can be changed or abandoned, they don't affect your life in any permanent way.

"They just are important!"

The next string that Odo pushes across their bond is colored with sadness, bitterness, anger; they're old feelings, though, lingering after years, like an old wound whose jagged scar still aches. Then why wasn't I given one? He squeezes Quark a little tighter, as if Quark is his teddy bear. Odo became my name, yes. But I took it for myself because nobody gave me another.

Quark closes his eyes for a moment. "Odo. This is your baby. You have to name it."

If it's so important, Odo snuffles, annoyed, at Quark's neck, then YOU name them.

"Me? You want me to name the baby?"

Yes. Though I reserve the right to refuse to accept the name if it's terrible.

Does Odo feel unqualified to name a child?

"Fine! I will. I'll name them right now!"

I'm waiting.

"Give me a frinxing minute!" Quark sits up, crosses his arms, deep in thought. The link breaks as Quark pulls back from Odo's paw pad. "Can you shift into something with vocal cords again?"

Odo rolls his eyes and gives a long-suffering sigh before melting down into an amber puddle and reforming in his usual humanoid shape. The baby is so much harder for him to hide like this, and the curve of it is tough for Quark to look away from.

"Well?" Odo prompts.

"I'm still thinking! This is a big decision you've sprung on me!"

Something in Odo's eyes softens. "You really are taking this very seriously," he muses.

"Of course I am," Quark grumbles.

Naming a baby.

That's a thing a parent does. But if Quark doesn't, who will?

He lies back down, burrows under the covers before reaching out to lay a hand on the swell of Odo's stomach. He didn't think about it. He just did it, automatically.

That feeling of affection, not for Odo necessarily, but for the child in his body, blooms unbidden and uncontrolled in Quark's chest. At first, that feeling had been entirely unwelcome. It reminded Quark of a plant that a hapless botanist had transported to Ferenginar from Earth and accidentally let free; it ran wild, invaded the entire ecosystem and became impossible to root out. Even though it choked out some local plant life, Quark always liked the scent of its blooms as a child, enjoyed hunting for sections with more leaves than usual.

The baby has grown into Quark's heart like clover, and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to untangle it.

He isn't sure he wants to, anymore.

Naming a baby is a thing a parent does.

"Clover," he says.

"Is that a Ferengi name?"

"Earth, actually. What do you think? It's not gender specific, it's easy to say and spell, it's not too long..."

"Clover," Odo says, the corners of his mouth turning up. His own hand joins Quark's on his stomach; he looks down at them both and addresses the baby. "What do you think?"

The baby pokes lightly at Quark's fingers. He's gotten used to the 'kicking' by now, but it's still odd. "I think they like it," he says, "and if they don't, they can always change it."

"Clover," Odo repeats. "Yes."

-

"My dear," Odo murmurs to the child, stroking his stomach, "you can't stay in there forever."

Quark's ears perk up. Odo is in the bedroom and certainly has no idea that Quark can hear him from here in the bathroom.

"I know you must be frightened," Odo continues. His voice is soft, raspy. "You were so sick. You must have been in such pain. I won't let that happen to you this time." Quark hears blankets rustling. "Part of me wishes I could keep you like this forever, you know. hat I could always protect you like this. But that's selfish of me." Odo sighs. "You deserve to live, Clover. You deserve to feel what it's like to fly and climb and bound and leap. You deserve to decide what shape your life will take and how you want to live it."

Quark creeps into the bedroom, leans in the doorframe. Odo looks up at him, almost sheepishly. "Don't let me interrupt your conversation," Quark says, raising his hands.

"Apparently it's good to talk to a baby before it's born," Odo says.

"Mhm." Quark starts getting dressed for the morning. "Hey, Clover. Any time you wanna get out of Odo is fine. Don't feel like you need to wait any longer. I'm gonna die of purple lobes if you do," he adds, under his breath.

"Quark!"

"What? They don't know words yet!"

"Even so!" Odo hrrmfs and looks back down at his stomach. "Don't listen to him. He's going to be a terrible influence on you."

"I'm going to be a wonderful influence," Quark protests, buttoning up his waistcoat.

Odo stretches, luxuriantly, in a way that would be completely impossible for any being with actual bones. "Isn't it a bit early for you to be starting your day?"

"I have a meeting with some very interesting potential customers to discuss something that is none of your concern, Constable! Business doesn't sleep." He fastens his trousers and begins searching around for a tailcoat that matches the paisley of his shirt. "Isn't it a bit late for you to be starting your day?"

"I must admit I've been fatigued recently," Odo muses. "Doctor Bashir thinks it's because Clover is getting so large." Quark has just located the correct coat when an amber tentacle wraps around his waist and tugs him gently but firmly back toward the bed. "I have very little to do today," the source of the tentacle says. "Reports to read and file. I can do those anytime."

"Odo..." Quark complains as Odo pulls him back onto the bed. "I have an appointment!"

"Whatever ne'er-do-wells you're conspiring with can wait."

"First--ne'er-do-wells? Seriously? Second, I'm going to be late."

"Then," Odo says, like it's the simplest thing in the world to explain, "be late."

"Oh, so you're okay with a lack of punctuality now?"

Odo uses some more limbs--Quark doesn't pay attention to what they look like, maybe they're regular arms or not--to pull Quark snugly up against him. Quark feels their link form, and Odo noses up against his neck, inhaling a breath he doesn't need as if to scent him. "When it suits me," he rumbles.

Ugh. He's so warm and soft. "This is authoritarianism," Quark says, mustering all the bitterness he can manage at the moment, which, admittedly, isn't a lot. "You're a fascist. I hate you."

"Mm," Odo placidly agrees. "Do you really want to get up?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

Amusement bubbles across their connection. "No, you don't."

"Using our link is cheating. You're a cheater. I'm getting up!"

Odo lets him up this time without a word and Quark makes it all the way to the door before he makes the mistake of looking back. There's Odo, looking at him with wide blue eyes, and he looks so soft and so inviting and so pregnant and Quark is speaking before he can stop himself. "I guess I can be a little late."

-

Kira glares at Quark for half the baby shower. For the other half, she's gazing fondly at her wife.

Quark has to say, Kira makes Dax happy, so he'll tolerate the relationship on those grounds. Their wedding had been beautiful, anyway. Amazing catering. Kira may hate Quark, but she knows he's Jadzia's friend, so she seems to tolerate him.

Just barely.

Odo, for his part, looks remarkably uncomfortable with this entire spectacle. The gathering is being held in a holosuite that's configured to create a prettily decorated pavilion at some kind of nature reserve. The whole area is festooned with ribbons and balloons, one of which says It's a Goo!

It was Quark's only contribution to the decor, really. He had very little to do with this. It was mostly Keiko O'Brien, Kira, and Jadzia.

"It's not customary for the boyfriend to come to these things," Kira had told him, her huge eyes narrowed in the least friendly of manners.

"It's also not customary for Changelings to be pregnant, Nerys," Jadzia had replied before Quark could say something rude that he'd probably have regretted. "Do you know either of them to be customary?"

Kira melted a little and agreed. Jadzia has that effect on people.

The shower is going well, Quark thinks. Odo is graciously accepting gifts and talking to all the guests that want to see him, and he's trying not to let on how painfully awkward he finds this whole venture.

And he does find it awkward. He resisted the whole venture, citing the fact that Clover hasn't even been born yet. Quark talked him into accepting it because Kira would be disappointed if he didn't. The thought of his best friend being upset made him, grudgingly, agree to attend his own party. Odo got over Kira a long time ago, but he still loves her. Quark thinks the relationship must be similar to how he feels about Jadzia. He doesn't feel threatened by it at all.

Of course, it helps that Kira is a flaming, screaming, visible-from-orbit lesbian.

The presents given have been thoughtful. A baby changeling has no use for a pacifier or bottles or clothes or diapers or whatever else is given at these events--Quark wouldn't know, he's never been to one before, thank the Exchequer. Doctor Bashir brought a brand-new teddy bear that he had replicated from 'a very reliable pattern,' whatever that means. Others brought toys or books.

(Worf presented Odo with a wooden dagger and solemnly told him it was for in case the child wished to train as a warrior, and that he would be honored to provide tutelage.)

Everybody wants to see Odo. Talk to him. Receive updates on the baby. He's doing an admirable job, Quark thinks, but he can see Odo's social power reserves draining in real time. He breaks off his current conversation as politely as he can and sidles over to where Odo is talking to Doctor Bashir and Garak.

"...I would have offered baby clothes, if the little one wasn't a changeling," Garak is saying. "I do hope he'll get use out of the blanket."

"We don't know the baby is a boy, my dear," Bashir lightly admonishes, nudging Garak with his elbow.

"Clover is a changeling," Odo says. "Gender is irrelevant to them. Use whatever language you wish to describe them. It all applies equally well."

Quark reaches Odo's side, worms his hand under Odo's arm to curl around it. The section of Odo against his palm turns to liquid, a discreet link forming. Gratitude for the connection emanates from him.

"See, Doctor? Perhaps I'll mix it up. She'll be a darling baby, I'm sure."

"I'm sure," Bashir sighs.

Odo deepens the link, leaning on Quark both physically and psychologically. Quark isn't used to such a close link outside of sexual contexts--but Odo is exhausted, suddenly, so Quark picks up the slack. "The blanket is beautiful, Mr. Garak," they say together through Odo's mouth, and Odo leans on him a little harder.

"Odo?" Quark looks up at him. His eyes are unfocusing, glazing over.

"Constable, are you all right?" Bashir sounds concerned now, peering closely at Odo.

"It feels like he needs to regenerate," Quark says, "but he just got up a few hours ago, Doctor."

"I'm fine," Odo says, wearily; Quark can feel his fatigue all the way down to his bones. "I'm just tired. That's all."

"He's lying," Quark says, fear mounting red in his vision, "something's wrong with him!"

"What?" Kira's voice from across the pavilion. She has ears almost as good as a Ferengi. She bounds over, and the eyes of the rest of the party follow her, a hush echoing in the holosuite as everyone listens in concern. "Odo, what's going on?" She reaches out to touch his arm and gasps in horror as her hand sticks to him for a second. "You--are you sick?!"

"No! I'm merely tired," Odo says, eyes widening at the sound of his own voice because it's as if he's speaking through a throat full of syrup; Quark holds back a scream as he realizes that he's feeling Odo's vocal cords melting in his throat.

"I think you'd better get the good Constable to the infirmary," Garak says, stepping back, and Bashir swiftly nods, reaching out to grasp Odo's shoulder with one hand and tap his combadge with the other.

"Bashir to Ops, three to beam directly to the infirmary. Energize."

The last thing Quark hears of the baby shower is Sisko blessedly taking control of the situation. "All right, people. It looks like the party's over..."

Quark doesn't love transporting. He's always a little afraid the machine will put him back together wrong. Make his lobes too small, or something.

In this case, he's grateful for it.

"Sit," Bashir says the instant the three of them materialize in the infirmary. Odo does, sits on a biobed and sways a little.

"He needs his bucket," Quark says, "he's tired, Bashir, he needs--he needs it. Right now!"

Bashir orders one from the medical replicator and Odo rasps out "thank you" with vocal cords he's barely keeping together before he gives up on holding a form entirely and dissolves into the damn bucket. Bashir is already scanning him.

"Is he in any pain?" Bashir asks.

"I don't know, but I can find out." Quark unceremoniously sticks his hand into the puddle that is Odo. Almost instantly Odo has reactivated their link.

I'm in no pain at all. As you can tell. I'm sure I will feel much better shortly.

"He says he feels fine." Quark eyes Bashir's tricorder. "What's going on?"

"Odo can hear me, right?"

Mild irritation. Of course I can.

Quark nods.

Bashir addresses the bucket. "The baby's readings are beautiful. As are yours." Bashir looks at the readout on another panel. "Your biomimetic signatures are coming out of phase with each other," he continues. "It's no wonder you're tired, Constable, I think you're in labor."

Quark laughs, nervously, because the tension has to go somewhere. "Labor. He's in labor? He's giving birth?"

That IS what the doctor said. Are you even listening?

"Shut up!" Quark wiggles his fingers a little in the bucket to punctuate.

"I didn't say anything," the doctor protests, bemused.

"Not you! Him." Quark shakes his head as if to clear fog from it.

"Ah. Well--Odo isn't giving birth so much as the baby is separating their processes from him. His body has to return to its default state so that the child can unmerge from it. Of course he's feeling tired--unmeshing yourself with another has to be hard work."

Quark is always a little fatigued after an intense and prolonged link, but he'd always attributed that to the other actions that typically take place during one, not the link itself. "But he and the baby aren't linked. I'd know."

"Maybe not psychologically or telepathically, but physically, yes, they very much are."

"Huh."

Odo pushes some thoughts across the link, not quite words but the meaning is clear and it's funny. Quark chuckles and Bashir raises an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"He's worried about not making his shift tomorrow," Quark huffs. "He's an idiot." Odo pinches the pad of his index finger. "Ouch! He bit me!"

"Mm. My medical opinion is 'don't insult him while he's trying to birth a child and you have your hand inside him.'" Bashir takes a syringe and withdraws a tiny vial of Odo's goop, puts it in some piece of machinery and examines it.

"How long do you think this is gonna take?"

Bashir eyes the results that flash across the machine's display before he returns t he contents of the vial back to Odo. "I haven't a clue," he says, decisively. "Perhaps I'll have a better idea when I take their readings again in ten minutes."

"Great. You hear that? You could be stuck in here for days." Quark nudges the inside of the bucket. "Weeks, even! Do you know how much I could get away with?"

Go, then. Don't let me stop you. Odo knows damn well he won't leave and is making fun of him.

"...Nah," Quark mumbles, hopping up on the biobed and sitting by the bucket. "Someone has to be here to bother you."

Ten minutes later Bashir performs his tests again. "If the process continues at this rate--and that's a large assumption, we have no reason at all to believe that it will--Odo and Clover should be fully separated by morning."

"I can't believe you went into labor to escape the baby shower." Quark smirks. "That's a little much, even for me."

-

Julian has plenty to do in the infirmary. Unfortunately, he doesn't want to do any of it.

Normally he'd be perfectly happy to read a primer on Eeiauoan anatomy, but for some reason, this textbook is simply not holding his attention.

Perhaps it's because he's being interrupted every whipstitch by a new party concerned for Odo. He'd alerted Sisko as to Odo's condition, of course, and he's sure that the Captain passed the information around. Thankfully, nobody has actually barged into the infirmary and demanded to see Odo--everyone has too much respect for him, knows he wouldn't want to be gawked at.

Quark's brother Rom, however, isn't here for Odo at all, and is the one currently making it impossible for Julian to concentrate whatsoever. He can hear the two Ferengi chattering from in his office. Not that he minds terribly.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Quark sounds like he's trying to be outraged but can't quite manage it. Happiness and relief bleeds through.

"Why wouldn't I be here? My brother is about to be a father!"

"I am not. This is Odo's baby. I'm just..."

Quark trails off.

"Aren't you excited, Brother?"

There's a long pause. "Yeah," Quark says, finally, and there's an incredulous, quiet laugh in his voice. When Julian looks up, Rom is grinning and bunting his nose gently and briefly against Quark's. It's a gesture Julian has only seen between Ferengi mothers and their children; it's probably too sweet and un-macho for grown men to do, usually. Nevertheless, Quark returns the gesture.

"I'm proud of you," Rom says. "Why've you got your hand in him?"

"Oh. Changelings are touch telepaths. This is so he can talk to me if something's wrong."

"Is he awake in there?"

"Nah. But he's not asleep either. It's kinda..." Quark yawns. "Kinda... dozing off."

"You should doze off, Brother," Rom scolds gently. "You look tired." Rom steals a blanket from another biobed and tucks it around Quark and the bucket.

"I'll be fine," Quark says. "You have a night shift to get to."

"Yep. You'll let me know when the baby is born, right?"

"Course I will."

Rom moves toward the infirmary exit, pausing to poke his head into Julian's office, fixes soft eyes on him. "Doctor?"

"Yes, Rom?"

"Thank you."

Julian smiles. "Of course."

Rom nods before scampering off, pixie-like.

-

Night falls and Julian should sleep but instead he can't. He takes periodic readings of Odo's vitals, matches them to Clover's readings to check on the progress being made.

He's just standing up to run yet another set of tests when the infirmary door slides open and Kira slips inside. "How's he doing?" she asks.

"Shh." Julian holds a finger up to his lips and gestures to where Quark sleeps there on the biobed, body curled around Odo's bucket and one hand still inside it. The blanket has long-since slipped off of him. "He's doing well," Julian whispers.

Kira's eyes slide over the odd scene, brow furrowing faintly as an unreadable expression passes over her face. Quark snuffles in his sleep, hugs the bucket tighter to himself.

"Has he been here this whole time?" Kira jerks her head toward Quark.

"I don't think anything could make him leave."

A long pause. She looks puzzled, like she's trying to decipher the secrets of the universe in her mind. "What could he possibly be getting out of this?" she finally asks.

Julian shrugs. "A family, I think."

"Pretty hard to buy one of those." Her brow unfurrows, her face softens just a little. She creeps closer to the biobed, bends to pick up the blanket that had fallen from Quark's body, and lays it carefully back over top of him. She even tucks it carefully under him so that it won't come free again. Julian raises an eyebrow.

"Not one word," she mouths, meeting Julian's eyes.

He grins and holds both hands up as if to say I would never.

-

"Doctor?"

It's perhaps one in the morning now and Garak's voice is a welcome interruption. Julian looks up from his reports and smiles, wearily. Garak is holding a small box. "Garak. What brings you here?"

"You." Garak holds out the box and Julian takes it. "Some dinner. I expect you haven't eaten?"

"You know me too well," Julian says, opening the box and taking a bite from the meat pie he finds inside.

"Doctor, heal thine self," Garak says fondly, watching Julian eat.

"Mm. Thank you. Would you like some?"

"No, my dear, I've already eaten." He leans against the desk and reaches out to stroke Julian's hair, nails scraping affectionately against his scalp. "How is the Constable?"

"Mmf." Bashir swallows his bite of meat and potato and gravy and pastry. "He's well. The baby seems to have tired out for the evening."

"Oh?"

"Yes. No meaningful progress has been made for over an hour."

"Children never make things easy for us, do they?" Garak glances over at the biobed where Quark and Odo are. "That doesn't look very comfortable for Quark."

"I think comfort was the last thing on his mind."

"How interesting. It's usually the first." Garak smiles faintly. "You ought to follow his example--in this respect only, to be perfectly clear--and go to sleep yourself."

"I'd like to be here if something goes wrong, Garak."

"Then be here. Quark will let you know if something goes wrong. As will I." He sits down in the chair across from Julian's desk. "Now, go take another bed for yourself after you've eaten your dinner. I won't hear any arguments."

"All right. All right. You've convinced me." Julian finishes wolfing down his food in short order; he hadn't realized how hungry he was. "Wake me up in an hour," he says, standing.

"Three."

"One and a half."

"Two hours, and that is as little as I'll allow!"

"All right. Two hours." Julian bends to place a soft kiss on Garak's lips. "Not a minute more."

-

Quark likes sleeping linked with Odo. Odo rides along as a passenger on Quark's dreams, steers them gently away from less pleasant subjects. Odo can't dream on his own now, so co-opting Quark's is the only way he can.

When Quark wakes up, he hasn't gotten deep enough into sleep to dream anything beyond disjointed fragments. The infirmary is still dark. Bashir is asleep on a nearby biobed--good for him. Garak, of all people, sits in Bashir's office reading off of a PADD and sipping from a steaming mug.

Odo is quiet. Quark shifts. His arm is falling asleep. He withdraws his hand from the bucket, or tries to. Odo frantically grabs for him, wrapping around his wrist.

"Hey, shh," Quark murmurs. "I'm just switching hands."

Odo relaxes, melts back down. Quark changes his positioning, puts his left hand in the bucket and stretches out his right. The link reforms.

What time is it?

Quark's eyes flick up to the nearest computer readout, a clock in the corner of the display. "Almost three," he murmurs. "How're you doing?"

More of the same.

"Okay. Need me to get you anything?"

Ask someone to bring you something to drink. You're thirsty.

"I am not."

I'm in your brain, Quark, you can't lie to me.

"I can't ask anybody. Bashir is asleep."

"No, he isn't," Bashir mumbles on a yawn. "What can't you ask?"

"Oh. Odo says I'm thirsty."

Orange juice, Odo says.

"He wants orange juice," Quark sighs, and Bashir looks a little puzzled for a second, wipes sleep from his eyes.

"All right," Bashir says, getting up and fetching a glass of orange juice from the replicator. He hands it to Quark, who immediately takes a sip.

Thank you. That's nice.

"He says thanks."

"You're quite welcome, Constable," Bashir replies, bemused. "Let's get your readings, then." He scans Odo with his tricorder and that other instrument again, looks over the results. "Interesting," he says. "It appears that your signatures are now fully out of phase."

"And that means...?"

Bashir shrugs. "I'm not sure. But if I were Odo, I would try to retake humanoid shape when I felt up to it, and attempt to leave Clover behind in the bucket."

"Okay," Quark says. "You good?"

I need more time, Odo says, fear creeping over him and biting at the corners of Quark's mind.

Quark looks up at Bashir. "Can you give us a minute?"

"Of course. I'm going to go send Mr. Garak to bed."

Bashir moves into his office, and Quark turns his attention back to the changeling. "You still too tired to take shape?"

No, I--I am-- Odo quivers. I'm not ready.

Fear. Dread. Love. Emotions rise in Odo like a storm, flow across to Quark like rain through leaves.

What if they can't survive on their own? What if they get sick again?

"Their life signs are strong and they're healthy, Odo. Clover is gonna be okay," Quark murmurs. "You've done a good job. Now you have to let them go."

What if they're all right, but I'm not? What if I go back to being a solid? Terror, ice-cold, jolts through their connection. What if we lost this? Our link?

"First, you have no reason to believe that's going to happen. Secondly..." Quark shrugs. "What if we did? Yeah, we'd miss it. We both would, but we did just fine before." Quark strokes through Odo's goop, gives a lopsided smile. "C'mon, you know there's a tradeoff, there's advantages to being a solid. You could eat your own hasperat again, for one thing."

Odo's whole being seems to sigh.

I couldn't be a lion anymore, you know.

"Oh, come on, Odo." Quark lifts his hand from the bucket a little, watches Odo flow through his fingers. "I didn't fall ass over lobes for a lion. I fell for you."

Odo curls up and around Quark's forearm, forming fingers, a palm, a hand, a wrist. All right.

Slowly Odo reforms. One hand still grasps Quark's, amber and translucent. Another forms, reaching up from the pile of him. Quark takes it in his other hand. A humanoid torso climbs from the bucket, pools half-in and half-out there on the biobed beside Quark. Then a leg forms, swung over the side of the bed. Then another, until all that remains in the bucket is a tendril, the last connection he has with Clover.

"They'll be okay," Quark says, and Odo braces himself, pulls himself fully from them and within seconds he's no longer a roughly-humanoid amber mass, he's the Constable, and he's blinking and sucking in breaths as if he needs them, like he's recalibrating his semblance of lungs. "There they are," Quark says, picking up the bucket and placing it in Odo's lap, "your baby."

Odo curls trembling hands around the vessel, looks inside, and so does Quark. Clover is there, a deep coral, even in color and texture. "They look healthy," Odo whispers, voice raspy. "Quark, I..."

He reaches out, takes Quark's hand. Immediately their link flares to life once again.

"Still a changeling," Quark murmurs.

Odo smiles, and he can't cry, not like he could when he was a solid. And thanks to their link, Quark can blame Odo for the tears that fall unbidden from his own traitorous eyes.

"Still a changeling," Odo replies, and kisses him.

-

They slide the baby into a large glass beaker, take them to the science lab and place them under the same supervision under the same instruments they were before.

"You can go to bed now," Odo says to Quark, who does nothing but hiss in reply as he reaches out to tap on Odo's combadge.

"Quark to Rom. The baby's here. Bring my pillow and comforter into the science lab, will you?"

"Of course, Brother! Rom out."

Quark grins up at Odo and says nothing.

Odo groans, but he's grateful for Quark's presence. Doctor Bashir went immediately to bed after helping set up the science lab. The rest of the crew will surely have cascades of congratulations to give as soon as they wake up. For now, it's just him, his partner, and...

And his child.

Emotion rises in him. Quark must sense it; he leans up against Odo's side, nuzzles against his shoulder. "They can't take her from you this time," he murmurs. "Starfleet has regulations on separating children from their parents. Namely, they don't do it."

"But will Starfleet recognize them as my child?"

"You gave birth to them. Hard to argue you're not her parent."

"I see your choice of pronouns for them is capricious at best," Odo teases gently.

Quark shrugs. "Like you said at the baby shower. It all fits equally well. I figure, if they have a preference later on, they'll let us know." A toothy little smile. "Until then... he can try on different ones, right?"

"I see your logic," Odo hums, then turns his attention to the little beaker. Clover is still, quiet. Probably exhausted. "Do you hear that, Clover? You can choose whatever you like. You can be what you want to be."

"And if that means being a ball of goo right now, then by all means, baby, go for it. You've had a rough day."

The science lab doors open and Rom is barely visible under Quark's large fluffy comforter. Quark bounds over to help him. "Brother! Where is the baby?!"

"Over here!" Quark grabs the comforter and throws it unceremoniously on the ground, grabs Rom by the sleeve and pulls him over to where Clover sits in their beaker. Odo steps back, watches.

"That's your baby?" Rom stares at them. "They're so..."

Quark reaches out to them, picks up the beaker and holds it up to the light. "Look at her with the light shining through," he says. "She's beautiful, right?"

Tears are shining in Rom's eyes as he looks up at her. "You really are a fafa," he sniffles, and Quark hisses with no malice, elbows his brother gently.

"Go back to work," Quark says. "Thanks for bringing the blanket."

Rom grins and scampers off. Quark sighs, holds the beaker closer to his chest.

The sight makes Odo feel... warm.

"What're you looking at?" Quark asks, carefully setting Clover back down on their platform.

"Just you, Quark," he murmurs. Quark hrrmfs in a very Odo-like fashion and starts fluffing out his pillow and comforter right there on the floor of the lab. "Are you going to sleep?"

"Mhm."

"Right there on the floor? That isn't going to be good for your back."

"Well, there isn't a bed in here, so..." Quark lies on the blanket and pulls one half over top of himself, nuzzling into his pillow and hauling the blanket up over his head to block out the lab lights.

Odo chuckles. "Computer, turn the lights warm, twenty percent brightness." The lights dim and change color subtly, casting the room in a soft glow. Odo leans on Clover's little platform, much like he did the first night he had them; back when they were still sick, and he didn't know it.

They didn't have a name then.

"Hello," he whispers. "Here we are again, hm?"

Clover moves a little in their beaker, squidges carefully up the side before slipping back into a puddle.

"Relax, darling," Odo continues. "You don't have to be active right now. Now it's time to rest and recuperate from today."

He reaches out, dips a finger into the beaker just a little. Clover closes the gap, wraps part of themself around Odo's digit. Holding his hand.

Emotion rises too-big in his chest, like he couldn't possibly shift large enough to contain it all. His body remembers how to cry, even though he can't produce tears anymore. His shoulders shake, but he isn't sad or fearful; he's filled with...

"I hardly know you," he says, voice trembling, "but I love you, Clover, and I will for as long as I live. I promise you that. I know you don't understand what I'm saying, but it's important that I say it anyway." He pets their surface with the pad of his thumb. "You see, no one ever told me they loved me, when I was small like you. But you, Clover, you will know love every day of your life."

Quark snuffles softly, his breathing evening out. Odo knows his sleeping noises by heart.

"He loves you too, you know. That's why he's here," Odo murmurs. "He would die for you. He almost did once already." Clover squeezes his finger tight before they relax, becoming an inert little puddle once more. "Yes, good idea." Odo withdraws his hand. "I'll let you rest. Good night, Clover."

With great effort, Odo moves away from the platform and turns his attention to Quark. The little reprobate is curled pathetically on the floor and Odo knows he'll be in pain in the morning if he doesn't intervene. He drops into his old standby, the creature too broad and soft to truly be a lioness, and settles on the ground beside Quark, belly-up. He doesn't bother to use his paws to maneuver him, instead just using a few quickly manifested tendrils to pick the tiny Ferengi up--even tinier now in contrast with this form--and place him, softly, on his plush underbelly.

Quark, for his part, wakes up a little bit--eyes fluttering and taking in the situation before apparently realizing it's just Odo and curling up in his soft fur, nuzzling close. "Night, Odo," he mumbles.

Odo wraps strong forelegs up around him, melts one paw pad and forms their link. Good night, Quark.

-

Quark jolts awake as the lab computers sound an alarm.

"Computer," Odo says, sliding out from under Quark and pulling himself into humanoid shape, "report!"

Quark scrambles to his feet, moves to Odo's side. Clover has changed colors, just subtly; a greenish tinge has come over her.

"The subject's biomimetic functions have dipped five percent," the computer says, and Odo's hands curl.

"They're dying," he says. Fear lances through him; it feels like he's leapt into an ice bath. "Computer, call Doctor Bashir to the science lab immediately."

"Doctor Bashir has already been alerted," the computer replies.

"Odo, what do you mean, they're dying?"

"This is exactly what happened the last time. No, Clover, I--I promised this wouldn't--" His vision seems to mist. "I shouldn't have let them go. I shouldn't have--"

"Odo!" Quark grasps Odo's hand, curls their fingers together. "Five percent. That could be an error. That could be nothing!"

Bashir sails into the lab. "I heard Clover's readings have dropped," he says, looking her over and tapping on the nearest computer display. "Did something happen?"

"No, nothing," Quark says, "she's just--"

"Is she dying?" Odo is shaking.

"Odo, stop. Five percent is well within safe parameters." He looks her over with his medical tricorder. "Their morphogenic matrix is stable. They're not dying."

Odo sighs and rests heavily against Quark. "Then why are their biomimetic functions down?"

"I'd love to try to figure that out." Bashir returns to the computer, looking over page after page of text and test results.

"You're overthinking this," Quark says. "They're crying."

"Crying?" Odo asks, aghast, blue eyes swiveling to Quark's.

"That's their color change. They're a baby. Babies cry because how else are they supposed to get your attention? She changed her color to get your attention. She needs something." Quark reaches out for her, picks the beaker up. "Can't feed her. Can't change her diaper. She isn't tired, she doesn't sleep." He snaps his fingers a few times. "Odo. Hold out your arms. Like you're holding a baby."

"My arms?"

"Trust me."

Odo obeys, curling as if holding an invisible infant. And then carefully, carefully, Quark tips Clover into the cradle of his arms. The little changeling quivers and melts up against Odo, not melding totally with him but--cuddling. It reminds Odo of how Quark nestles close in his sleep.

Before their eyes, she loses her greenish tinge and returns to a pretty, delicate amber.

"Computer," Bashir says slowly, "have Clover's biomimetic functions returned to one hundred percent efficiency?"

"Affirmative."

Odo smiles, giggles, holds the little baby close. He feels filled with soda water, bubbles dancing in his chest. "Quark, how did you know to do that?"

"She needs her dad," Quark mumbles. "Nog used to cry until Rom would pick him up."

"Amazing," Bashir says. "Their functions have stabilized from being in contact with you. Perhaps--hm. No, I can't be sure that's what it is."

"No, Doctor, please. What are you thinking?"

"Perhaps they don't need to be inside your body anymore, but they aren't mature enough to live totally separate from you yet. Perhaps they still need to sap energy from you periodically?"

"She's nursing!" Quark crows. "She's a baby!"

"Quark, Clover is not nursing! This is simply--simply--" Odo splutters, and Clover plasters herself to him a little harder.

"I prescribe a strict, vigorous regimen of cuddling and snuggling with little Clover," Doctor Bashir says with comical, grave seriousness. "I'm off, gentlemen. Good night."

Doctor Bashir departs, leaving the three of them there in the lab.

"Hey," Quark says, laying his hands on Odo's arms, "a lab is no place to raise a kid."

Odo's eyes trail up to meet Quark's. "You're right," he says. "Let's take our baby home."

Quark's eyes widen and his mouth drops open, revealing the tips of his pointy little teeth.

Then his expression softens. His lips curve into a smile.

"Yeah," he says, and Odo automatically bends to meet him halfway when he hopes up on his tiptoes to nuzzle his nose against Odo's. "Home."

-

They sleep in their big bed, or at least Quark sleeps; Odo lies there with Quark curled into his side, an arm thrown over his waist. Clover lies atop Odo's chest, oozing over him and a little onto Quark.

It's weird.

But Odo looks at Clover like they're made of star stuff, like they're something precious and sacred, and Quark feels so warm inside and out.

He's gotten used to weird.

"I imagine the Founders won't be pleased when they discover that Clover is under my care," Odo says softly.

"Probably not." Quark shrugs a little. "They're not pleased about a lot of things. What's one more to add on the pile?"

Odo huffs. "You have a point."

"Listen. Deep Space Nine is as safe a place as any," Quark says. "Moogie's house on Ferenginar doesn't have photon torpedoes, for one thing."

"Shh. They're too young to learn about torpedoes."

"You're never too young to learn about torpedoes."

Long, pleasant minutes pass. Quark is nearly asleep, floating in that warm, comfortable place between dreams and wakefulness, when Odo deepens their link just a little and projects into his head.

As difficult as things to come may be, he says, kissing the top of Quark's head, I'm glad to be facing them down with you.

Quark isn't awake enough to communicate verbally, and he's a terrible telepath; but he thinks, nonetheless, that Odo feels it when he thinks me too, but with you.

-

Odo walks into the bar carrying himself ramrod-straight.

The baby carrier the O'Briens gave him, leg holes sewn shut, is strapped to his chest. A tiny, goopy appendage peeks over the top of it.

It's the funniest thing Quark has ever seen, and he's pretty sure he's never been happier.