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Julian hasn’t slept since they evacuated the station and he is tired. His staff has ushered him out of the infirmary to get some rest in the calm before the coming storm. He’s thankful he’s been assigned one of the few single berth quarters on the Defiant - half the size of the others, but worth it for the privacy. He punches his code into the wall panel, and the doors slide open -
“Garak?” Julian feels warmth bloom in his chest. “What are you doing here?” He means to be annoyed at the invasion of his personal space but can’t quite keep himself from smiling.
“Ah, Doctor, just the man I was hoping to run into,” says Garak from where he is stretched out on the bed, PADD in hand. He waves it at Julian. “I was meaning to get your thoughts on The Legate’s Offering, and since we didn’t get a chance for lunch this week…” Garak smiles, and his eyes crinkle. Oh, Julian is fond of him.
“You came aboard the Defiant just for that?” Julian asks, amused. He drops his bag on the floor, and reaches down to pull off his boots. He places them by the door, lined up with Garak’s. “I’m flattered.”
“Oh, you know how much I enjoy our little chats,” says Garak. “It has been quite a while.”
Julian concedes this point with a nod. “And you thought insinuating yourself into my quarters was the best way to catch my attention?”
“Well,” Garak says, emphatically casual. “I couldn’t stay on Deep Space Nine, and there’s of course no room for me anywhere else on the ship - the quartermaster tells me we’re quite overbooked, with the evacuation, and we’ll all have to deal with the tight quarters.” Julian frowns - in all the chaos, he hadn’t considered that. Of course Garak couldn’t stay on the station, after it had once again become Terok Nor. “And, it’s not as if anyone else would have me.” He pouts theatrically.
Julian feels a flutter in his stomach but tries to look stern. “I mean, yes, of course, needs must, and I’m thrilled to have you on board, but - ” He gestures around the room. “ - here? Specifically?” The bed is inarguably intended for single occupancy.
“Come now,” says Garak, unperturbed. “Plenty of room for both of us.” He pats the space next to him on the bed - barely the width of Julian’s body, and he’d be squeezed in between Garak and the bulkhead - and looks back to his reading.
“Ga-rak.” Julian draws out the name, fond and exasperated. “It’s one thing to share quarters with you, but you can’t ask us to share a bed that small. There’s simply no room.” He waves his hands around to emphasize his point. “And the quartermaster wouldn’t send you here without at least a cot.”
Garak widens his eyes. “You want me to sleep on a cot? With my back? Please, Doctor, don’t be absurd.” He wiggles his shoulders, settling himself further into the bed, the corners of his mouth twitching up.
Julian unzips his grey and black jacket and puts it over the back of the room’s single chair, where Garak’s outer tunic is neatly folded on the seat. “You and I both know your back is fine, Garak.” He rummages through his bag for his toothbrush. “And you could have asked me instead of breaking in - I’m sure we could have figured something out.”
As if Garak had ever asked before breaking into his quarters, Julian muses. He stands up, and tries to glare at Garak, who is radiating contentment from his spot on the bed. Julian moves into the tiny bathroom, leaving the door open, and moves the small bottles of scale oil on the sink to make room for his toothpaste. He’s halfway through brushing when another thought occurs to him.
“Garak,” he says, around his toothbrush. “Captain Sisko does know you’re here, right?” He takes the toothbrush out of his mouth, spits, and peeks around the door frame, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated concern. “Or am I guilty of harboring a stowaway?”
“The good captain practically invited me on board,” Garak replies smoothly, “and given that Starfleet may be in need of assistance with the Cardassians in the coming days, I’m sure they won’t begrudge a simple old tailor berth on one of their ships.”
“I’m sure the admiralty will call on you if they need anything hemmed.” Julian grins. He finishes brushing, notes the dark circles under his eyes as he washes his face, and returns to the main room. “Computer, mute non-urgent notifications to all my devices for the next five hours.” He yawns, wincing at the way his body aches. He is exhausted - even enhanced, he’s starting to hit the edge of his limits. He eyes the occupied bed.
“I really need to sleep, Garak - and we can’t both fit in there.”
“Oh, I don’t take up too much room. I'm sure you can fit,” Garak says, looking Julian up and down before returning to his reading. Julian blushes, faintly, and hopes it isn’t too visible.
“Even so, I just - I don’t think this will work!” Julian folds his arms, and does his best to look menacing.
Garak gleefully ignores his scowl, still flipping through his PADD - although the ridges above his eye raise slightly, and Julian swears he sees the ghost of a smirk on his face.
He isn’t - he isn't against the idea of sharing a bed with Garak. Under better circumstances and with a bigger mattress, it’s something he’d actively be interested in. There’s always been some sort of chemistry, some sort of tension between them, but it’s always remained unspoken - so right now, Julian isn’t sure if Garak is playing with him, or if he really intends to stay here. Either way, he can’t quite find it in himself to put his foot down and insist he leave, even with Garak doing his best to be quite insufferable.
And, he and Garak have been through a lot recently. It’s true that they’ve had less time for each other in the grand scheme of things, certainly, but Julian spends a lot of sleepless nights thinking about the internment camp - the intimacy of being with Garak as Tain died; the gift of Garak’s greatest secret. Then, Julian’s own great secret, exposed. Only two months ago, Garak had his free will taken from him and was forced to kill in cold blood and now, while still recovering, he has been driven from the place where he had reluctantly begun to build a home.
Julian suspects - he knows, really - that Garak is invading his quarters, and his bed, because he doesn’t want to be alone.
He unbuttons his trousers.
“Fine,” he says. “If you want to share my bed so badly, so be it.” He pushes his trousers over his hips - and ha, now Garak looks up - and drops them to the floor. He pulls the teal shirt over his head and tosses it to the chair. Garak isn’t even pretending to look anywhere else now that Julian is standing there in nothing but Starfleet-issue black briefs and undershirt. He looks...hungry.
Julian feels a jolt of adrenaline move through his body. He had been planning on putting on his blue pajamas, but - he’s finding it hard to come up with a good reason to put any clothes back on, with Garak looking at him like that.
He walks to the bed and uses Garak as leverage, swinging his right leg over Garak’s lap, straddling him for the moment it takes to roll onto his back next to him. There had perhaps been less full-contact avenues to reach the far side of the bed, but if Garak wanted to play this game, Julian was happy to oblige. In the limited space, the whole of his side presses against Garak’s legs. He tilts his head back to look up at Garak as Garak looks down, and Julian notes that his eyes are dark and his neck ridges are tinted a faint blue. He wonders what Garak’s endgame had been, if his plan had included Julian calling his bluff. If it had been a bluff at all.
Julian swallows, but doesn’t break the silence. His heart is racing, but he feels tender. He can be patient for this.
“See,” says Garak faintly, raising his eye ridges. “Plenty of room.” Julian huffs a laugh.
He raises his arms above his head to stretch. He hasn’t quite decided if he’s teasing, or extending an invitation. He pushes his head further back, exposing his neck, and he can hear Garak’s breath speed up, almost imperceptibly. Julian revels in the hum of anticipation between them.
"Doctor," starts Garak.
"Computer, lights to ten percent," he responds. “Raise ambient temperature by seven degrees.” The room grows dark, with just enough light left to make out the sharp outline of Garak’s body, his face illuminated by the backlight of his PADD. Julian breaks eye contact but finds himself watching Garak’s mouth, twisted in some combination of frustration and adoration.
“Doctor,” says Garak, more insistently.
“Yes, my dear Mister Garak?” Julian’s voice is low, almost raspy, and although he’s still so tired his body suddenly feels electric. Garak drops the PADD over the side of the bed, where it lands with a soft thump, still glowing. He rests his hand gently on Julian’s chest, thumb rubbing soft circles through the fabric of his shirt. Julian realizes that perhaps he had called Garak’s bluff, but now Garak is absolutely calling his. He feels on fire with where Garak is touching him.
He can’t decide which part of him is screaming louder - the part of him saying no, wait, don’t push this, don’t change this, or the part saying yes, yes, finally, it’s time.
Julian shifts, angling himself towards Garak. His arms are still above his head, but as Garak’s hand presses down on him, he moves one hand softly, gently, to barely brush his fingers along Garak’s neck, tracing the rise and fall of his scales. He feels almost out of control, letting the waves of tender emotion wash over him, carrying him to whatever shore they may.
Garak clears his throat and tries a third time. “Doctor,” he says, voice remarkably clear for all that his breathing is heavy and his hand is so warm on Julian’s chest, “I really must know your interpretation of Legate Khellam’s sacrifice. Is it a manifestation of his guilt, for betraying the state? Or is it a representation of his misaligned ideals, and therefore purely self-serving?“
Julian laughs, unexpectedly and brightly, and his heart feels like it expands in his chest. His hand tightens on the side of Garak’s neck, slides up to his jaw, and pulls him in, and Julian kisses him. Garak doesn’t hesitate to respond, gripping the fabric of his shirt and leaning until half his body is resting on Julian’s, and the weight feels so good. Julian slides his other arm around Garak to try and pull him impossibly closer. His mouth is soft, and cool, and gentler than Julian had imagined, and it makes him smile widely enough that the kiss breaks. Garak presses his forehead against Julian’s and gently rubs their noses together - Julian can feel that he is smiling too.
“You are an absolute pain in the ass,” says Julian.
“Yes, Doctor, that’s true.” Garak kisses him again, easy as anything. “But you wouldn’t want me any other way.”
Julian is fading fast, now, the adrenaline and joy not enough to keep him conscious. “Mmm,” he agrees. “I promise to tell you why you’re wrong about Legate Khellam in the morning.”
Taking the hand on his chest, delighted by the tiny soft scales that line Garak’s fingers, he rolls to his side, pulling Garak around him. Garak rearranges himself so his chest is to Julian’s back, and he presses a soft kiss to the back of Julian’s neck.
As he drifts into sleep, Julian laughs to himself - they both fit after all.