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doctor_tailor2012-02-16 08:51 am
crowdog66) wrote in doctor_tailor2012-02-16 08:51 am
Entry tags:
Fic: "Doubt"
Title: Doubt
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: R
Word Count: 510
Summary: Julian Bashir is both shaken and stirred.
Notes: Set in the 1920's DS9 "Gumshoe AU" that started on Tumblr, in which Garak is a gangster and Julian is a brash young doctor who's set up a public health clinic on Skid Row.
************************************
The instant that melodious voice spoke up behind him — "Doctor Bashir!" — Julian recognized it, and although it would have been easy to pretend not to have heard over the bright whirl of conversation and laughter that surrounded them, he turned, and he smiled, and his heart was already starting to beat a little faster.
He would never forget that cold spring night (had it been only three months ago?) when a notorious gangster had thrown open the door to a poor doctor's small wretched bathroom and come walking in as bold as you please, one sleeve red with blood and droplets of it falling on the cracked tile floor, and apologized for interrupting Julian's evening with a courtesy at odds with the steely quality of his gaze… a quality that had changed abruptly when Julian leaped out of the bathtub, thinking only of getting that shirt off and treating the wound beneath…
He'd recognized it right away, of course: it wasn't the first time another man had looked at him with sexual interest. But the way Garak's entire face had lit up at the sight of his bare wet body… the startled delight, so at odds with everything he knew and had always assumed about this dangerous man he'd previously seen only at a distance and through the screaming text of headlines…
Julian had been on the receiving end of lecherous glances before. But he'd never been looked at with such unqualified joy, even if it only shone through for a couple of seconds before Garak concealed it behind a more ambiguous smile of general friendliness.
And he'd never expected to like it, although he hadn't let the shock of that realization affect the efficiency with which he'd cleaned and bandaged the gangster's grazing bullet wound — after he'd gotten dressed, of course. Only later, when Garak had politely thanked him and set set two hundred dollars on his kitchen table and disappeared into the night again, had he found himself subtly shaking, and unable to sleep for worrying and wondering and doubting key things he'd always thought he'd known about himself.
And now here he was, facing that same mild smile with the same burning interest hidden beneath it, like the fangs of a serpent lurking in its supple jaw. Words were exchanged, inconsequential pleasantries fraught with subliminal tension, and now Garak was gesturing elegantly in the direction of the darkened veranda, inviting Julian to join him for a refreshing breath of the night air, smoothly suggesting that perhaps he could offer him something more to his taste than orange juice.
And Julian was pretty certain that he wasn't referring only to illegal alcohol.
But he let the Cardassian lay a strong grey hand lightly on the small of his back and lead him away from the party, managing to meet the gaze of those merry blue eyes and trying not to blush at such easy familiarity, feeling excited and hot and restless — and more than a little afraid.
The fear remained once the shadows had enfolded him… but some of his questions, at least, were finally answered.
THE END
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: R
Word Count: 510
Summary: Julian Bashir is both shaken and stirred.
Notes: Set in the 1920's DS9 "Gumshoe AU" that started on Tumblr, in which Garak is a gangster and Julian is a brash young doctor who's set up a public health clinic on Skid Row.
************************************
The instant that melodious voice spoke up behind him — "Doctor Bashir!" — Julian recognized it, and although it would have been easy to pretend not to have heard over the bright whirl of conversation and laughter that surrounded them, he turned, and he smiled, and his heart was already starting to beat a little faster.
He would never forget that cold spring night (had it been only three months ago?) when a notorious gangster had thrown open the door to a poor doctor's small wretched bathroom and come walking in as bold as you please, one sleeve red with blood and droplets of it falling on the cracked tile floor, and apologized for interrupting Julian's evening with a courtesy at odds with the steely quality of his gaze… a quality that had changed abruptly when Julian leaped out of the bathtub, thinking only of getting that shirt off and treating the wound beneath…
He'd recognized it right away, of course: it wasn't the first time another man had looked at him with sexual interest. But the way Garak's entire face had lit up at the sight of his bare wet body… the startled delight, so at odds with everything he knew and had always assumed about this dangerous man he'd previously seen only at a distance and through the screaming text of headlines…
Julian had been on the receiving end of lecherous glances before. But he'd never been looked at with such unqualified joy, even if it only shone through for a couple of seconds before Garak concealed it behind a more ambiguous smile of general friendliness.
And he'd never expected to like it, although he hadn't let the shock of that realization affect the efficiency with which he'd cleaned and bandaged the gangster's grazing bullet wound — after he'd gotten dressed, of course. Only later, when Garak had politely thanked him and set set two hundred dollars on his kitchen table and disappeared into the night again, had he found himself subtly shaking, and unable to sleep for worrying and wondering and doubting key things he'd always thought he'd known about himself.
And now here he was, facing that same mild smile with the same burning interest hidden beneath it, like the fangs of a serpent lurking in its supple jaw. Words were exchanged, inconsequential pleasantries fraught with subliminal tension, and now Garak was gesturing elegantly in the direction of the darkened veranda, inviting Julian to join him for a refreshing breath of the night air, smoothly suggesting that perhaps he could offer him something more to his taste than orange juice.
And Julian was pretty certain that he wasn't referring only to illegal alcohol.
But he let the Cardassian lay a strong grey hand lightly on the small of his back and lead him away from the party, managing to meet the gaze of those merry blue eyes and trying not to blush at such easy familiarity, feeling excited and hot and restless — and more than a little afraid.
The fear remained once the shadows had enfolded him… but some of his questions, at least, were finally answered.
THE END