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Huddled in a pile of pillows and blankets below the air circulation vent, Garak readjusted the hot water bottle over his feet and stared woefully up at the slats above his head. What well-meaning Federation electrician had put the heating pipes so close to the replicator controls, allowing them to be damaged when some Cardassian exile decided to fiddle with the system manager and coax it into recovering old files? Now he had an overheating replicator and underheated quarters, and he was way too far, far down on the engineering team’s list of priorities to expect help any time soon…
Shaking his head, Garak returned to the PADD on the floor in front of him in an attempt to focus on the new Bolian jacket he was designing as a distraction. No sooner had he swapped out the zipper for buttons than an alarm went off on his wrist, alerting him that someone was using an access code to enter his quarters. He rolled his eyes and pushed himself into a seated position just in time for Dr. Bashir to stroll in. These days, the human usually just applied his medical override in lieu of ringing the doorbell.
Not that Garak had done or said anything to change that or dissuade him.
Although maybe he should have, upon hindsight, seeing as it would have prevented the doctor from catching him in this fairly humiliating predicament and position.
“Garak!” Julian rushed over to kneel alongside, tricorder already out. He ran a scan with one hand while the other patted over Garak's cheeks, forehead, and neck with blessedly warm hands that it was very difficult not to nuzzle into. “Are you alright? What happened? Why are you on the floor?”
“I'm fine , my dear,” Garak insisted firmly, batting his hands and equipment away. The blanket around his shoulders slipped down with the gesture, and he quickly pulled it back up again. “There's just been a little mishap with the heating system is all.”
Hearing that, Julian paused and looked around, presumably gauging the temperature of the room. “Oh. Yes, I see. Or feel, rather.” His eyes scanned up the wall. “And you're trying to be as close to the vent as possible. Except the engineering team is overloaded with that virus the Kozong brought in when it docked.”
“Klingons never run adequate viral scans on their ships,” Garak grumbled.
“I can't really argue with that. Worf would probably agree. And now we've got Ferengi advertisements for Slug-o-Cola running rampant and cloning themselves using vital programs. Which will only get worse and start shutting things down if Miles and company don't get it under control.” Julian exhaled loudly. “Right then. We've got two choices.” He chafed his hands up and down over Garak's arms. “Either we can curl up in your bed together and I'll use my body heat to bring your core temperature back up, or we can go to my quarters and turn the heat up to its maximum setting and hope that's good enough.”
Garak hardly even had to think about it. “Why not a bit of both? We'll go to your quarters, raise the temperature, and wait in your bed until the air is comfortable enough for me to come out and function again.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Julian helped Garak up off the floor, but instead of heading for the exit, he stared at the pile left behind. “Should we, ah, take these with us?”
“Do you not have pillows and blankets in your own home?” Garak hoped he did. With fabrics and fillings that were absolutely saturated with his musky, salty pheromonal signature.
“I do. But should we… pick these up and put them away then? I know how you like to be tidy.”
Garak shivered and pulled the remaining blanket tighter around himself. “I believe we can put it off, just this once.” He couldn't stop the slight chatter of his teeth that accompanied the words, and Julian’s attention immediately shifted from the pile to him.
“Oh. Look at you,” he murmured, wrapping him in a warm embrace and rubbing their cheeks together. “Let's get you out of here and warmed up.”
Together they made their way through the habitat ring from the civilian section to the officer's quarters, and fortunately passed very few habitants along the way. As soon as they entered Julian's main living space, Garak was steered to the bedroom, and only after his shoes were off and he was tucked under three blankets did the doctor leave to fiddle with his environmental controls. He returned a couple minutes later with arms full of pillows and stuffed them along Garak's back and arms his head before climbing in himself, clothes and all.
Garak guided Julian’s lanky form to roll over so that he could spoon him and warm his vulnerable underside, and soon enough his chest was thrumming in a low purr as he curled around the human like a polar zabu with its mate on the longest night of the year.
“How are you doing?” Julian asked quietly after a few minutes had passed by, hushed as if he thought Garak may have fallen asleep.
“Improving.” Garak roused himself from the half-doze he'd slipped into. “Although not ready to leave the bed yet.” He pressed his lips into the back of Julian's neck.
Julian hummed back. “Why didn't you just do this in the first place? You know you're welcome here any time.”
Which was still a bit of a surprise for Garak. He wasn't sure anyone else had ever extended that sort of invitation to him before. “I didn't want to be an imposition,” he fibbed, feigning embarrassment. The truth was that it hadn't even occurred to him. He'd never had someone to rely on so easily before.
Julian worked one arm on top of the one wrapped about his waist and covered Garak’s hand, entwining their fingers. Just as they did every time, Garak's heart skipped a beat and his lungs shuddered. It felt so good, so right to have someone in bed with him, holding him, loving him. “You're not an imposition,” Julian asserted, his voice husky. “Never an imposition.” He squeezed. “A sneak, a dissembler, a provocateur,” one of Garak's favorite words, “and sometimes a right pain in my arse, but never an imposition.”
Garak sighed, the last of the cold fleeing from his bones and his body finally melting into their cozy little nest. “Thank you, my dear. For coming to my rescue.”
“It was nothing. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.” There was a pregnant pause. “You know that, right? That I care about you? That I'd do just about anything for you?”
If only the dear doctor knew how much he'd already done. More than just saving the life of an exile, an addict, a lonely liar… he'd made that life worth living. “I do, Julian.” Garak almost never used that name, it always felt so intimate and underserved despite all of the intimacy they already shared, but he did try to when the moment seemed appropriate. And significant. “And I-” The words caught in his throat. “I hold you in high esteem as well. I- I appreciate you and…” Garak's heart beat so fast and hard he was sure the human could feel its rhythm drumming into his back. “I care about you, as well.”
There was more–so much more–that he wanted and needed to say. And that Julian probably wanted and needed to hear. Garak blamed the hesitation on his body not being fully back at homeostasis. How do you tell someone that their presence feels like home in a way that your real home never did? That they filled in cracks you weren't aware existed until they came along?
That maybe they don't complete you, but they complement you in a wholly undefinable and maybe even metaphysical way-
That they're your first thought and last, and their mere existence colors everything you do and see brighter and fuller than you’ve ever seen-
How could Garak be so proficient in wielding language to manipulate others, to interrogate and misread and wound, and yet not be able to do this one simple thing? Not speak what weighed so heavily on his emotions, his mind, his spirit?
Unaware of the turmoil that was taking place behind him, Julian wiggled, insinuating himself even closer so he could tangle their feet. “I know I'll never hold a candle to Cardassia, but I promise I'll always be here for you whenever you need me.”
Garak shut his eyes against the sudden influx of moisture flooding them. No one had ever said that to him before, much less delivered on it. And Julian had, several times over, even before they'd become as close as they were now. In some respects, Cardassia couldn’t hold a candle to him.
Was Garak able to make the same pledge in return? Would he- could he take care of Julian, protect him, dote on him in the way he deserved?
He felt like he owed it to both of them to at least try.
Garak hugged Julian closer so that he could kiss one cinnamon-brown cheek. “I know that I often speak… cryptically. But this is as plain and simple as I can make it, so please believe me when I speak these words.” A silent nod and expectant stillness. “You are infinitely precious to me, Julian. I may not show it or say it very often, but please know that- that…” Garak buried his face in the soft hair before him. He breathed in the gentle aroma of lotion and shampoo and whatever product kept the waves tamed, coupled with the scent of skin and sweat and maybe a hint of oxytocin and testosterone.
There was too much to wade through, too much to feel and untangle and understand. But five words. If he could just manage five words, maybe it would do.
“I love you, my dear,” Garak whispered into Julian’s hair.
It was the first time either of them spoke it aloud, although it had certainly been taunting and haunting between them for some time. Lurking in the shadows of every smile, pulsing beneath every touch, echoed in every moan.
“I- I love you, too. Elim.” Julian waited only a second before he turned his body and head into Garak’s embrace and found his lips. “I love you too,” he mouthed into the kiss.
Garak had been warmer on Cardassia, downright sweltering hot on the longest days of summer, but never before had he felt like this: like the sun had settled inside him, and the stars wheeled about his head, and that there might be hope for his weary heart yet.
He might have been banished, but he was far from alone.