oftentimes doseki (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
smallwolf) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
doctor_tailor2011-12-29 06:08 pm
smallwolf) wrote in doctor_tailor2011-12-29 06:08 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Blanket Stealing (?)
Title: ...blanket stealing? (I suck at titles)
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: PG 13 at most
Beta: Didn't have one, since it was really just a gift for myself.
Word Count: 980
Notes: Takes place in my own personal little AU. So, uh. I've been a rabid fan of Star Trek as long as I can remember. I occasionally write bits and pieces from the various series, but rarely do I post them. The rare times I do, they usually go up on my A03 account.
Anyway. I shall de-lurk and post up a bit of fluff I wrote myself for my birthday. And share it with other G/B fans. :)
When Bashir woke up suddenly from deep sleep, it was because he was shivering. It took him a moment to register why he was shivering. He was cold. It took yet another moment for him to register why he was cold.
"Elim," Bashir said softly.
The Cardassian lying next to him in bed did nothing to indicate that he'd heard Bashir.
"Elim," Bashir said, a little louder.
"Nngh."
"Elim!"
Garak made a noise as he came awake. It was a deep, guttural, extraordinarily primal noise. The first few times Bashir had heard it, he'd actually jumped out of the bed, he was so shocked by it. Cardassian growls compared to a Klingon's were like a lion's roar to a house cat's meow. And Garak had assured Bashir afterwards that he, Garak, wasn't being particularly loud. Now, Bashir only flinched, unable to completely ignore the instincts hardwired into him, but he didn't move, waiting for Garak to wake up properly. When Bashir was reasonably sure that Garak's proverbial hackles were down, he started to tug on the blankets that the Cardassian had commandeered during sleep.
"The fourth time this week," Bashir said.
"Oh, really, Julian," Garak said, sounding annoyed. "Why you can't just pull them back over you without waking me up, I'm sure I don't know."
"Because you have a death grip when you sleep," Bashir said, settling under his reclaimed covers. "And it's only fair. I wake up because of you; you have to wake up because of me."
"Of course," Garak said, still moody from being woken from deep sleep. "We should be fair, especially in the manner of making sure that we're equal in our slumbering habits, never mind the fact that while I only require five hours of sleep in every twenty-six, I need to remain in R.E.M. longer than you do throughout your extensive required nine hours."
"Mmhmm," Bashir said, his eyes already closed.
Garak moved closer to Bashir under the covers, throwing one arm over him. "You're cold," he observed aloud.
"You stole the blankets," Bashir murmured, finding himself edging closer to Garak for his natural body heat. "So you can warm me up." Garak gave a low, throaty chuckle, tugging Bashir closer. Bashir relaxed easily, the blankets and his humanoid heater for a lover keeping him downright toasty. He was very nearly asleep when- "Ahh!"
"You said I could warm you up," Garak said cheerfully. "I find nothing warms you up as much as when I bite your neck, just below your jaw line. You-"
"Shut up, Elim." Bashir couldn't help but laugh. "You can observe what warms me up more in the morning."
Garak grinned. "Oh, believe me Julian, I will."
The next morning, after Garak had "observed" what made Bashir warm and followed it up with an exceptionally long shower, they had breakfast. Like with all their meals, this meant more talking than eating, though thankfully, Garak tended to treat breakfast as their meal for small talk, rather than full blown philosophical discussion.
Bashir spread a liberal amount of jam onto a scone while Garak was eating, casually bringing up the subject of blankets. "You know what we could do," he said, glancing at Garak as he ate. "We could just replicate larger blankets."
"How obscenely logical," Garak said, taking a sip of his Raktajino. "A Vulcan could have suggested that."
"God forbid we be like Vulcans," Bashir said, laughing. "That way, we wouldn't argue about it. And I wouldn't interrupt your sleep, nor you mine. You can get your full three and a half hours of R.E.M., and I can get my nine uninterrupted hours."
"Then we'll have to find something else to argue about," Garak said in mock seriousness. "I know that humans, particularly humans in relationships, must have something to argue about, or else they worry, and I quote, 'that something is wrong.'"
Bashir had been with Garak long enough to nod solemnly at this. "Of course," he said, sounding just as serious. "Oh. I've got it! You could get on my case about my visits to the holosuite."
"Now, you must be specific, my dear Julian. After all, you rather liked it when I visited you at Vic's last time."
Bashir smiled at the memory, his face getting warm. Had he ever! Garak coming in, dressed to the nines, bending Bashir, still dressed in his Starfleet uniform, over one of the tables... Bashir had to clear his head and his throat, which he did with some tea before responding. "I was thinking more along the lines of my secret agent holoprograms."
Garak nodded his approval. "That would work splendidly. But then, what will you...how did you say it? Get on my case about?"
Bashir had to think a moment. Then he grinned. "Jadzia teaching you Tongo and you coming home all hours of the night."
"Fair enough," Garak said. "But after a while, that too, will bow to the wills of logic, and we'll have to figure out something else."
"There's your Kanar habit, my obsession with having Orb experiences, the fact that you haven't filed your paperwork for vacating your old quarters, that I suck my teeth when I eat sweet things-"
"Et cetera, et cetera," Garak interrupted, nodding. "Consider your point well made."
Later, after the table had been cleared and they'd each gone about their morning rituals, they paused, as they always did, at the door before they embarked out into the daily routine of Deep Space Nine. "I've come up with several other quirks for you, and multiple for me as the subjects of future arguments," Bashir said.
Garak laughed, kissing the doctor. "Perhaps for dinner," he said. "For lunch, I was thinking we could compare the works of the Marquis de Sade and Osar Kervat."
Just as Garak had hoped, Bashir left their quarters with a huge grin on his face.
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: PG 13 at most
Beta: Didn't have one, since it was really just a gift for myself.
Word Count: 980
Notes: Takes place in my own personal little AU. So, uh. I've been a rabid fan of Star Trek as long as I can remember. I occasionally write bits and pieces from the various series, but rarely do I post them. The rare times I do, they usually go up on my A03 account.
Anyway. I shall de-lurk and post up a bit of fluff I wrote myself for my birthday. And share it with other G/B fans. :)
When Bashir woke up suddenly from deep sleep, it was because he was shivering. It took him a moment to register why he was shivering. He was cold. It took yet another moment for him to register why he was cold.
"Elim," Bashir said softly.
The Cardassian lying next to him in bed did nothing to indicate that he'd heard Bashir.
"Elim," Bashir said, a little louder.
"Nngh."
"Elim!"
Garak made a noise as he came awake. It was a deep, guttural, extraordinarily primal noise. The first few times Bashir had heard it, he'd actually jumped out of the bed, he was so shocked by it. Cardassian growls compared to a Klingon's were like a lion's roar to a house cat's meow. And Garak had assured Bashir afterwards that he, Garak, wasn't being particularly loud. Now, Bashir only flinched, unable to completely ignore the instincts hardwired into him, but he didn't move, waiting for Garak to wake up properly. When Bashir was reasonably sure that Garak's proverbial hackles were down, he started to tug on the blankets that the Cardassian had commandeered during sleep.
"The fourth time this week," Bashir said.
"Oh, really, Julian," Garak said, sounding annoyed. "Why you can't just pull them back over you without waking me up, I'm sure I don't know."
"Because you have a death grip when you sleep," Bashir said, settling under his reclaimed covers. "And it's only fair. I wake up because of you; you have to wake up because of me."
"Of course," Garak said, still moody from being woken from deep sleep. "We should be fair, especially in the manner of making sure that we're equal in our slumbering habits, never mind the fact that while I only require five hours of sleep in every twenty-six, I need to remain in R.E.M. longer than you do throughout your extensive required nine hours."
"Mmhmm," Bashir said, his eyes already closed.
Garak moved closer to Bashir under the covers, throwing one arm over him. "You're cold," he observed aloud.
"You stole the blankets," Bashir murmured, finding himself edging closer to Garak for his natural body heat. "So you can warm me up." Garak gave a low, throaty chuckle, tugging Bashir closer. Bashir relaxed easily, the blankets and his humanoid heater for a lover keeping him downright toasty. He was very nearly asleep when- "Ahh!"
"You said I could warm you up," Garak said cheerfully. "I find nothing warms you up as much as when I bite your neck, just below your jaw line. You-"
"Shut up, Elim." Bashir couldn't help but laugh. "You can observe what warms me up more in the morning."
Garak grinned. "Oh, believe me Julian, I will."
The next morning, after Garak had "observed" what made Bashir warm and followed it up with an exceptionally long shower, they had breakfast. Like with all their meals, this meant more talking than eating, though thankfully, Garak tended to treat breakfast as their meal for small talk, rather than full blown philosophical discussion.
Bashir spread a liberal amount of jam onto a scone while Garak was eating, casually bringing up the subject of blankets. "You know what we could do," he said, glancing at Garak as he ate. "We could just replicate larger blankets."
"How obscenely logical," Garak said, taking a sip of his Raktajino. "A Vulcan could have suggested that."
"God forbid we be like Vulcans," Bashir said, laughing. "That way, we wouldn't argue about it. And I wouldn't interrupt your sleep, nor you mine. You can get your full three and a half hours of R.E.M., and I can get my nine uninterrupted hours."
"Then we'll have to find something else to argue about," Garak said in mock seriousness. "I know that humans, particularly humans in relationships, must have something to argue about, or else they worry, and I quote, 'that something is wrong.'"
Bashir had been with Garak long enough to nod solemnly at this. "Of course," he said, sounding just as serious. "Oh. I've got it! You could get on my case about my visits to the holosuite."
"Now, you must be specific, my dear Julian. After all, you rather liked it when I visited you at Vic's last time."
Bashir smiled at the memory, his face getting warm. Had he ever! Garak coming in, dressed to the nines, bending Bashir, still dressed in his Starfleet uniform, over one of the tables... Bashir had to clear his head and his throat, which he did with some tea before responding. "I was thinking more along the lines of my secret agent holoprograms."
Garak nodded his approval. "That would work splendidly. But then, what will you...how did you say it? Get on my case about?"
Bashir had to think a moment. Then he grinned. "Jadzia teaching you Tongo and you coming home all hours of the night."
"Fair enough," Garak said. "But after a while, that too, will bow to the wills of logic, and we'll have to figure out something else."
"There's your Kanar habit, my obsession with having Orb experiences, the fact that you haven't filed your paperwork for vacating your old quarters, that I suck my teeth when I eat sweet things-"
"Et cetera, et cetera," Garak interrupted, nodding. "Consider your point well made."
Later, after the table had been cleared and they'd each gone about their morning rituals, they paused, as they always did, at the door before they embarked out into the daily routine of Deep Space Nine. "I've come up with several other quirks for you, and multiple for me as the subjects of future arguments," Bashir said.
Garak laughed, kissing the doctor. "Perhaps for dinner," he said. "For lunch, I was thinking we could compare the works of the Marquis de Sade and Osar Kervat."
Just as Garak had hoped, Bashir left their quarters with a huge grin on his face.
no subject
no subject
And the way I write Garak (and Cardassians in general) is that beneath that so tightly controlled facade, they have a primal streak that puts Klingons to shame. Something I started a while back with a one-shot of Dukat harassing Bashir, and it just seems to have stuck. :)
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject