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Published:
2023-07-16
Completed:
2023-07-19
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3,342
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2/2
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Nestling

Summary:

After his status is revealed, Julian is overwhelmed by his fears.

Notes:

To dearest Z, my muse!

I’m going through some difficult stuff right now so I borrowed Julian to sort through some feelings.

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

“No, my dear. Not here.” 

Julian Subatoi Bashir, once just plain, simple Jules, has always wanted to hear his friend’s voice just this way - reaching out to offer comfort. And Garak’s hand is at his back. Garak is helping him up, drawing him up because the only things he can feel are numbness and pain and his brain isn’t entirely clear on where either one presently resides. His legs are as wobbly as a new foal’s. 

A newmade thing, he thinks, because he’s much more a monster than a man, a newly discovered threat. 

He sobs.

“No, no, no,” Garak insists again, voice low but very sure. “With me, my nestling. There. One step. Another.” He guides him into a hallway - inside a wall? Julian isn’t sure - but, somehow, he’s keeping his long and ungainly limbs from stumbling. 

The doctor’s nose is stuffy from weeping; his head hurts . He’s wracked by confusion and terror and the sick certainty that all is lost and that somehow he deserves to lose everything for the audacity of joining Starfleet in the first place, for his arrogance, for believing he could be special, for not planning better, for… for existing, really, 

And he believes it down to the blood-bright marrow of his bones. 

Now his legs do go - his knees, anyway, and he’s sinking. He wants to keep going, wants the station to become quicksand and swallow him whole, or, better still, he wants to crash through the bulkheads and the safety screens and the life support systems, to fall into the dark well of space and keep falling forever as his lungs ice over and the pain of living and breathing and being stops . 

He’s gasping, head down, head bowed into Garak’s legs. He can smell his friend - peppered rosebuds, juice-dripping vines, dark earth disturbed by tendrils bursting forth like opening wings - and it comforts him even as thick, grey, finely-scaled fingers slide into his hair. 

“ Julian .” 

His breath shudders out again; then, then it stops. “You never call me… you never call me by my name.” 

Garak thinks that he will call this lovely thing anything, anything at all, if he can just get Julian to somewhere safe and warm. “Forgive me, my dear doctor. I did not intend to overstep. The truth is, you are worrying me.”

Julian’s head tilts. “‘The truth?’” he echoes. 

“It is a rarely-used weapon in my arsenal, my dear, but on significantly serious occasions…” 

Something in Julian crumples. “Have I become that? Something serious?” A problem to be resolved? 

But Garak gifts him a smile, gets him on his feet again. “Consequential, rather. You may have noticed, my dear doctor, that I keep to myself and have few friends - and, by ‘few’ I do, of course, mean none. None except for you. Seeing you in distress… it pains me. I fear that I lack your skill at healing, but I can get you away from your quarters and shield you from those who have caused you harm.” 

“You aren’t frightened of what I am?” 

“Nothing they could call you could ever frighten me, my dear. I believe you declared much the same to Tain himself.” 

A ghost of a smile tugs at one side of his mouth. “I know that it will disappoint you to no end, my dear Mr. Garak, but you’ve never frightened me.” You’re too bright, your mind too beautiful. 

“Good. Then it’s well settled. You will stay with me tonight instead of sitting on the cold station floor, yes?” He knows that Julian is not yet fully inhabiting himself, his skin, because he allows Garak to draw him by the wrists through interior corridors previously unknown to him. 

Stay? he thinks. With Garak? 

It sounds like an impossibility. 

And he wants it more than anything.

More than Starfleet. 

More than frontier medicine. More than friendship or fitting in or being the best at something, being taken for normal. 

“That isn’t… you’re very private, Garak. I don’t want to intrude.” 

“You have an invitation.” They leave the wall and are just a few steps from Garak’s door. “I will feel offended if you refuse.” 

Once the door is shut, the locks engaged against anyone who wishes to dismiss Julian from the service and against his parents, Garak brews tea and places it at his friend’s elbow, along with a replicated bowl of sugar. 

Julian usually believes that tea will solve almost any problem. Tonight, though… he stares at the mug as though he’s never seen such a thing before. “I… Garak… I need…” 

Julian Subatoi Bashir hasn’t asked anyone to fulfill a real, true, honest need for years. His tongue seems to have forgotten the formula for asking. 

“My dear, you are shaking .” 

Julian laughs. The sound is like breaking glass. “I have been for decades. I just never let it show.”

So many things make sense to the Cardassian now: Julian’s desire to be stationed at the edge of civilization, Julian’s escape into his hologames - even the doctor’s endless search for pleasure. Your bedmates were, to you, as the implant was for me. They supplied you with the feeling of normalcy, even as you presented them with flashes and fragments of yourself, careful to hide your truths. 

“Thank you for trusting me.” 

Julian could tell him that allowing Garak to see him like this is less about trust and more about feeling that there’s nothing left to prove - or save. “Garak, I’m almost certainly bound for a penal planet - maybe even some sort of hospital. My trust isn’t worth much.” 

“You Terrans are forever undervaluing things. Starfleet ought to hold its next workshops on Ferenginar. You may feel that you presently have precious little to offer, but it is still precious.”

Julian sighs. “Thanks. You talk circles around me when I’m at my best - I don’t know why I thought that I could best you now.” 

“Perhaps after several more years of friendship, my dear. I believe there was something you were trying to say before.” His eyes urge the doctor on. Ask, they seem to say. 

“I just… I need a hiding spot, I guess. I want to disappear.” 

Garak doesn’t seemed alarmed by this. He could tell Julian that he has murdered entire versions of himself for the privilege of vanishing. “I know just the place.” 

Even when he had removed the Cardassian’s implant, Julian had treated him in the wide open living space; he’s never seen Garak’s bedroom. The bed is a veritable nest - rounded with high, soft sides. He must still be distant - separate from himself - because Garak lifts him up and deposits him in a universe of plush decadence. 

“Rest now, my friend. I will keep watch. Nothing can reach you here.” And if it tries, he reflects, those hacks I made to the transporter system can have us on a runabout and gone. Kidnapping Julian just for himself has always been a fantasy; if Starfleet seeks to persecute the lovely young man, Garak will remove him from their reach without qualms. The Obsidian Order hasn’t managed to kill him; next to them, Starfleet are children playing with phasers. Let them hunt us among the stars, he thinks, amused at the notion. We will go to ground and I will build you a lovely life with my own two hands. It is a Cardassian conceit, of course. He knows that Julian could not be content in a world where he made no difference. But the images are pretty and Garak allows them to bathe his mind. 

But as he has been building fantasy sets on which to enact his endless desires for the doctor, Julian has yet been shaking. He feels lost in the center of a storm. Cold. Frightened. Reduced to the child he had been - the child everyone thought too dull to communicate, the child who might have slowly emerged from the chrysalis of his fears, the child that got overwhelmed too easily and, so, hid his face in his own arms - he reaches out blindly and envelops Garak, crashing into him like waves nurtured by riptides and fueled by shearing winds. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice is tear-choked. He’s breathing much too fast. “I know I shouldn’t.” But he’s rubbing his face against Garak’s neck - cheeks and chin like a cat. “I know you don’t like to be touched.” But his grip only tightens. 

Garak gives an exaggerated look of surprise (he often exaggerates his expression with humans, but this overblown look is honest). “My - my dear? What gave you that idea?” 

Julian blinks the tears down from his lashes. He’s not certain where the idea had originated, but he has always believed it. 

“The truth is,”

“Twice in one night?”

“Just so. As I was saying, the truth is that no one has wished to touch me in a very long time. I am the ghost of the Occupation, after all.” 

You’re everything to me. Julian has probably thought this before, but he has thought it behind other thoughts. This time, he hears it clearly. “You’re plain, simple Garak,” he corrects, voice teary, grip tightening about his neck again. My plain simple Garak. “And I need you.” 

Garak’s touch slides down the Terran’s back to settle and rub comfort there. Julian curls into him. Garak has never seen the doctor vulnerable this way. He shouldn’t be, perhaps, but he feels honored by this. The Cardassian snags a blanket and wraps it over those thin, ceaselessly shaking shoulders. 

Julian pushes against him. The Cardassian is uncertain. Forget touch; many years have passed since someone had sought this level of intimacy with Elim Garak. 

“Don’t be afraid of me,” Julian says in a child’s voice. “Please.” 

Garak knows that Bashir can’t take another rejection. He falls back and takes Julian with him, a barely discernible weight on his chest and hips. More than weight, what he gets from Julian is warmth . He wonders if this is a characteristic of all humans. If it is, Cardassia has been missing out. But perhaps it is the augmentations? Could they be keeping Julian’s temperature at a high and steady rate? And what can he do to keep Julian in his embrace? 

Garak wracks his mind, replaying human interactions. What do Terrans like? He knows about handholding and kissing, but these things seem too forward. Using just his thumb and the side of his hand, he strokes a naked arm. Julian turns his head into his touch. 

Like a blind kitten, he wriggles up Garak’s body to hide in his neck. When he reemerges, he impetuously presses his forehead to the Cardassian’s. Garak’s mouth parts on a gasp that he just manages to cut off. He knows that he should tell his friend what he’s doing to him; maybe he should ask him to stop. 

But Julian rolls his neck, increasing the pressure on Garak’s sincipital crest. A shaky sigh moves through the  Cardassian’s scaled chest. Julian repeats the gesture, burrowing into a crest that’s slowly darkening to match Elim’s eyes. 

“Oh! That’s beautiful!”

Julian uses a single fingertip to trace the other scales on his face and neck that are turning blue.

“Is it for me? Because of me?”

“Three truths in a single session is more than I am comfortable with, my dear.”

“ Thank you .” 

They cuddle up together then, exile and augment facing an uncertain future, each caressing and comforting the other. Julian is the first to sleep. As promised, Elim keeps watch, stroking the unfamiliar texture of his hair from time to time. 

When Julian wakes, he makes everything very simple. “I’m sorry it took… all this … for me to hold you, but I’ve been mad for you for ages and I don’t want to face tomorrow or the next day without you. Please say I can stay.” 

Garak calls for the lights and pushes the “walls” of the nest into a higher configuration. “Of course, my darling.”

Julian’s smile is soft in the dark. “That’s the third sweet thing you’ve called me tonight: my name, darling and nestling.” He gestures. “This is what that means, isn’t it? I didn’t know when you said it.” 

“It means that you always have a home and a hideaway with me. A nest. A place of safety.” And, now, so do I. “You cannot lose this, my Ch’ulian.” 

As he is facing losing his career and commission, this is wonderful to hear. “Elim, they may send me to prison.” 

“My dear, you really must pay better attention to the texts I give you. In the entire history of my people, no one has successfully taken a Cardassian from his mate. You will be right here at my side. There are no prison bars in your future.” 

He sounds so certain that Julian decides not to argue; he just nuzzles into his chest. “You could have told me that you wanted me in your bed all this time, you know.”

“And deny us both the dance? No. But it may please you to know that I did begin improving my nest on the very day that I met you, in hopes of one day seeing you here. Does that suit your sentimental fancy?” 

“Very much. Perhaps tomorrow you will give me a more thorough tour of the changes you made? Say by pressing me into the mattress?”

This sudden change in tone surprises a laugh out of him. “It is very much your right to inspect our nesting place. I look forward to your evaluation. For now, however,” he draws him up to arrange him more comfortably in his arms, “you are owed rest. Go to sleep, my Ch’ulian. You are precisely where you belong.”

End! 






Chapter 2: Nestled

Notes:

For AnonymeFanfictionYunki - I hope you like it!

Chapter Text

“So… does Antvauk IV do a lot of business with Cardassians?” Julian asks as he catches sight of their bed, the style mimicking that of the bed they share in their quarters. Captain Sisko had insisted they be upgraded to a family berth after Julian had revealed that their relationship had progressed from friendship to something more. 

“No,” Garak admits, stowing their bags in a wardrobe. “But a handsome advance payment of latinum will secure one most amenities. Your comfort is of paramount importance to me, my dear.” 

Julian kisses him just above the spoon-shaped sincipital crest on his forehead. “I’ve noticed. You think we’ll be spending a fair amount of time in bed, do you?” 

“As a physician, I imagined that you might advise against the floor - my back, you know. But there is a couch… the tub…”

Julian nuzzles into the soft scales on his neck, laughing against them in a way that the Cardassian finds irresistible. “And we both know that you can hold me up if you want to, you strong, sturdy thing.” He loves the breadth of Elim’s storm-silver thighs, the soft slope of his belly. Garak calls him a basking rock, but, to Julian, his lover is a rock to cling to in a stormy sea - solid, safe, proudly impervious to the crashing waves. “This was sweet of you to plan, Elim, even if you did have me nervous trying to figure out what you were up to!”

“I was trying to secure you leave and preserve my surprise,” Garak defends himself. “All without interrupting either your busy conference schedule or your research. I was certain you had figured out my plan at least four times.” 

Julian’s fingers find the autumn-cool strands of his dark hair. Touching them is like opening the door on an October night to be kissed by the wind as if by the cold nose of a black cat. “You’ve been driving me out of my mind so well that I haven’t even finished a crossword puzzle in weeks!” 

Garak’s mouth doesn’t move, but Julian thinks that a flash of pride enters those jewel-bright eyes to dance among the blue currents that swell and surge there. “You deserve it, my Ch’ulian.” 

What he means, Julian knows, is that he has been through rather a lot: the unwanted reappearance of his parents, the revelation of his augmented status, a Starfleet trial, receiving the cold shoulder from people he has known for years… 

But, Julian yet retains his commission, and, with Garak and his loyal friends in his life, is getting to experience the positive side of being part of a family. 

“Well, all of that would have been enough. You didn’t have to give me a vacation, too.” 

“Ah, but according to my research on Terran mating customs, it is proper for a couple to, ah, road test their relationship by going away together.” 

“Garak, we’ve been through explosions, attempts on our lives, medical emergencies… I think we can survive ordering overpriced drinks together.” 

“One likes to do some things to form, my love.” 

Julian smiles. That does sound very Cardassian. “Thank you. It’s very romantic - and you’re quite right that I wanted to get away from the station. All the little glances. The whispering. How did you endure it so well?” 

“When my anxiety rose, I lost myself in sewing,” Garak admits. “And then you came. Thinking of new works to discuss with you was a welcome respite from the suspicion that attended most of my interactions. You have always been so open with me, my dear doctor. So receptive.” 

“But even I had my suspicions about you. I’m sorry if they hurt you, back then. That wasn’t my intention.” 

“You were great fun, my dear. And, it turns out, you had nothing to learn from me about keeping secrets.” 

“Don’t be too sure. Keeping the way I felt about you to myself was never easy. Fortunately, my enhancements provide me with some amount of control over my body’s reactions… but there were many of our lunches that ended with me being forced to exercise it!” 

Elim makes a pretty show of curious interest. “Oh?” 

“You know that Starfleet uniforms don’t hide anything. If I had walked into the infirmary looking like that, Jabarra would have thought I got dosed with sex pollen… though I doubt they make the stuff that stacks up to you.” 

“My dear, speaking that way… I cannot help but think that you may wish to begin our vacation in our nest.”

“Continue it,” Julian corrects. “Did you already forget about this morning? We almost missed our departure time!” 

They had - and it had been very worth it. 

“Won’t you regret delaying taking in the sights of Antvauk IV?” 

“With the sight of you undressed and over me? Not bloody likely. I’ll even order you room service after. We can watch silly holos and make out until your lips get swollen - both pair.” 

Garak makes a sound in his throat that is part pure desire and part exasperation at Julian being so forward. The doctor knows that he likes it - even if he wouldn’t admit as much even under torture. 

“Is that a no?” 

Julian looks far too good (in clothing Garak designed especially for him, naturally) to say no to. “That is a ‘let us see how this temporary nest compares to the one at home, hmm?’” 

After a marathon session of mess and miracles, they end up nestled in together, sharing dessert and mostly ignoring the flickering holo as the smell of sex evaporates from the air. 

“You know something, my dear Elim?” Julian asks, fixing a teetering side of the bed that is threatening to turn their nest into a tent. “You make everywhere feel just like home. I imagine Cardassia will feel that way in a week, someday when we can go back.” 

Garak can imagine nothing more romantic. “I - I do so hope that is the case. You know, my nestling, it is traditional to have many nests throughout a Cardassian dwelling. Some for cool nights and some to rest in while nursing a headache… some that are utterly private.” 

“I can’t wait to build every single kind - and break them in - with you!” 

The little nest grows warm as they kiss and kiss and kiss.

End!