G/B Fic: Bachelor's Wife pt. 2.
Mar. 6th, 2010 03:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladydraceTitle: Bachelor's Wife.
Part: 2/3
Codes: DS9, G/B
Rating: NC-17. Cause there's sex in it. *nods*
Word count: 12.251
Warnings: Angst, maybe?
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
prelocandkanar . You are a goddess! *grovels*
Feedback: Yes please.
Disclaimer: I don't own any angsting Cardassians or guilty Doctors. *sigh* Not mine. At all. Oh I only wish.
Notes: Not sure about the timeline for this one, but since there is no Ziyal to be found, I think I'll set this after By Inferno's Light.
Summary: Garak is feeling lonely and depressed while going through his shedding season. Doctor Bashir proves to be an annoyance difficult to get rid of. Cue truckloads of angst and misunderstandings. And Sex.
“Computer, replicate standard Cardassian kosan, fifteen inches.”
Garak sighed as the item appeared in the replicator. How he hated these things. But unfortunately they had become all to familiar to him during his lonely exile. Removing the dead scales without help was not easy, and despite that the kosan with its hooks and wedges was designed for the purpose, it was always very unpleasant. Not like when you had a loving partner, willing to do the sensitive work.
He wistfully thought back to the last time someone had done that for him, while removing his tunic, wincing as it caught on the scales of his arms. With a slight shock he found it had been over five years since he last had someone help him with it. She hadn't been a long term partner, but she had been very sweet and gentle. Had he really done this himself so many times now? He thought back as he entered his bathroom and laid out a towel on the floor to catch the scales. Several days a year for five years? He found it hard to believe.
As the main wedge of the kosan loosened the first scale on his shoulder blade with a jab of pain, followed by a maddening itch, the memory of all the lonely nights of doing this suddenly came back to him all too clearly. He found himself longing for someone... anyone willing to join him. Someone to oil the scales, soften them and gently rub until they came off by themselves, not needing the aid of the cold kosan. And the sensitivity of the new scales underneath was... unparalleled. Having a lover do this was mind-blowing.
Surely there was nothing more erotic in the world than gentle lips on fresh scales. Hands kneading the velvet plates, so soft still that they felt more like baby rhama leather than the usual nail-like texture when they hardened. Those precious hours of over-sensitized flesh and cartilage spent with a passionate bedmate were moments all adult Cardassians could look back on with smiles. Garak did not smile, however, when his body reacted to the train of thought and reminded him once again just how alone he was. His heated skin and tightened groin seemed to be mocking his loneliness.
Even for a Cardassian, Garak was not one much for sexual self-gratification. His species in general possessed sufficient social skills to never go too long without willing partners, even when away from their home world. But it had been years for Garak now. Even for a race not famed for their sexual cravings, years of forced celibacy would take more self restraint than could possibly be healthy for a man in his prime. Unlike certain other humanoid species, Cardassian libido did not exactly drop with age. Another reason why hardly anyone - even senior citizens - on Garak's home world would ever be reduced to such loneliness as Garak was punished with for his misdeeds.
He could feel his precious self control starting to slip through his fingers more and more every day. His reaction to the doctor's casual touch was all the proof he needed. It would not do. He would have to tend to that problem later. And of course his treacherous mind jumped right back to the deliriously wonderful sensation of the doctor's steady hands and warm fingers, gently removing the loose scale on his neck ridge. How heavenly it would be if his lovely, young friend was the one doing the rubbing and stroking. The satisfying gentle scratching of nails over his oiled, but still itchy skin. The amazing feel of that alien, smooth, golden flesh against...
He ripped off a scale viciously to cut the thought short and winced as he felt the new scale tear slightly at the edge. Damn. With his luck, the small rifts made by his rough self treatment would get infected, so he would have no choice but to go see the doctor himself. He would of course want to know how it had happened and would probably not quit nagging until Garak volunteered something embarrassingly personal. Like how this shouldn't have to be done alone. Or how he had as good as no chance of finding someone to do this for him any time soon. After all, the doctor was probably the only person on this station who didn't regard him with some form of dislike.
Again he allowed his mind to drift to the young man, imagining them both in a traditional Cardassian steam room, the young man oiling him up while the scales softened in the heat and damp. How exquisite it would be to have a willing lover heating his body from the inside as well as outside, distracting from the itching and stinging with gentle caresses and soft kisses. How glorious...
How impossible. He was absolutely convinced that the doctor had no such desires. He had tested his friend again and again, teasing him, taunting him, goading him. But not once had he seen any response that would have lead him to believe that Bashir would be willing to join him in bed. They could flirt, surely, and they did. But that was it. Bashir had made his interests perfectly clear, given the amount of time he spent praising the virtues of some young lady or other, while Garak had been doing everything short of kissing him in the replimat to make his own point. There was clearly no hope for them to ever be involved.
Even if Bashir would be open to a relationship with a male alien who in Federation years was more than twenty years his senior, Garak knew he had put a peg in the wheel for himself, by not being just a little more honest with the young man from the beginning. And now it was too late. The doctor probably wouldn't believe anything he said these days, no matter how close he could get to the truth. And of course, that was also ignoring the other obvious drawbacks of getting involved with a Cardassian on a Bajoran space station.
Feeling now more than a little frustrated he flung the kosan through the doorway of the bathroom and watched it skid to a halt in the middle of the living room floor. Resting his elbows on the sink he rubbed his face vigorously, willing the heady fantasies of his Human friend out of his mind. When he finally looked up again, his hands were covered in tiny, shimmering scales. He sighed in defeat as he picked up a small, delicate brush to rub off the facial scales. With a last sour look at himself in the mirror, he again took up the lengthy task at hand.
He had just started on his upper arms when the door chime sounded. He groaned and threw on his light undershirt as he went to the door. He was not in any mood or condition to have visitors. The door whispered open to reveal the doctor wearing a slightly abashed expression. “Hello, Garak. May I come in?”
Of all the people to interrupt him now, it had to be the very person he least of all wanted to see. His face was a cold facade as he steeled himself in the doorway, effectively blocking the entrance. “No, you may not, doctor.”
Bashir sighed and looked at his toes. “I suppose that's only fair. Look, I just came to apologize. I guess I overstepped your boundaries and I'm very sorry if I offended you.”
Garak didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that statement. He was not offended. Oh no. Neither did he feel that the doctor needed to apologize for awakening his all too long ignored desires. But of course, there would be no telling his young friend all this. For now, all Garak wanted was to get Bashir away from his door, so he could go back to his lonely grooming and later some very satisfying stress relief.
“That's perfectly all right. I hold no grudge against you. Now if you'll excuse me...”
Turning his back to the door even before it was closed completely he was shocked when he suddenly heard the doctor cry out: “Garak! You're bleeding!”
Stopping the door with his hand, Bashir immediately stepped inside and reached for him, eyes fixed on the white shirt stained with purple-red blood oozing from his torn scales. Garak whirled around and stopped his friend in his tracks with his most commanding voice. “Stop! I cannot allow you to enter my quarters at the moment. Now, would you please leave?”
Bashir flinched, but refused to be dismissed. “But you're hurt. I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on!”
Snarling, Garak advanced on his Human friend, backing him towards the door. “Yes you are. Being a doctor does not give you the right to invade my privacy!”
The doctor swallowed hard but stood his ground after a few steps. “Actually it does. I am the CMO of this station, and that means I have the right to interfere if any of its inhabitants are doing serious injury to themselves.”
Stepping in so close that Bashir could smell the bitter Cardassian blood through the light shirt, Garak fixed his friend with a withering stare. “You are without comparison the most insufferable nuisance. A few drops of blood is hardly a serious injury and yes, it might be self inflicted but it needs to be done. Would you barge into Sisko's quarters if he cut himself shaving? Would you rush Chief O'Brien to the infirmary if he burned his thumb, fixing the relays? No. I didn't think so. Now, would you please leave, or shall I have to call security and make us all very uncomfortable?”
Bashir stared searchingly into Garak's face and made the older man back away slightly from the intensity of his eyes. “Why won't you let me help you? I'm your friend.”
This time Garak sighed and looked down. “That's precisely why, doctor. You are my friend. Therefore I cannot ask you to help me with this.”
Oblivious of Garak's internal struggles, Bashir stepped in close again and laid a warm hand on the itchy, sensitive shoulder, making him shiver ever so slightly. It took a good deal of willpower to prevent himself from leaning closer to the touch. To urge the hand to move.
“You don't have to ask me, Garak. I'm offering my help willingly.”
Garak closed his eyes and ground his teeth. Why did his dear doctor have to make this so difficult?
“You don't know what you're offering.”
Bashir frowned and squeezed the shoulder, making Garak hiss silently, head still bowed. “Then explain it to me. Explain it to me, so I can prove to you that I mean what I say. I want to help you.”
The frustrations welled up in Garak and he suddenly felt desperate to make his all too desirable friend go as far away as possible, before he did something incredibly stupid. Turning away with a grimace he wrenched his shoulder from the doctor's grip with a gasp at the intense sensation. “Doctor, you don't understand!”
At this exclamation, Bashir flared up. “No, you're right! I don't! Because you never tell me a damn thing! You can go on for hours talking riddles and expect me to figure things out for myself, but I'm not a bloody mind reader, you know!”
“Hah! No. Thank the stars for that.” The barked out laugh from his tormented host apparently took Bashir completely by surprise, because his look was all confusion as Garak turned back to face him. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Garak pulled himself together, determined to get rid of his unwelcome guest. “It means, doctor, that my thoughts are private, as are my quarters. And you are not welcome in either right now.”
Advancing on the younger man while speaking, he forced him to step backwards towards the door. But after only a few steps, there was a surprising crunch as Bashir stepped on the kosan, snapping it in half. “Oh no! Garak, I'm so sorry.”
Garak couldn't care less. He just needed the doctor to leave. Immediately. “That's quite all right. No harm done. Now please leave.”
Ignoring him completely, Bashir picked up the kosan and inspected the damage. “I'm really sorry, Garak. I'll get you a new one. Uhm... what is it?”
The grinding of Garak's teeth sounded like a roar in his skull. He had employed his most commanding voice and demeanor to make sure the doctor could be in no doubt how serious he was. Being ignored was certainly not what he had intended. Had his self imposed abstinence reduced him to this state? Had he lost his touch in this cold, lonely prison of his? Probably. He felt like a fool. But there was no time for self reproach.
The doctor was still standing much too close. Garak could smell him. Could even feel the heat from his warmblooded body in the Cardassian standard temperature of his quarters. The slender Human hands sliding up and down the broken shaft of the kosan made very unwelcome images spring to mind and Garak swallowed what felt like his whole shipment of coat lining before feeling able to answer the doctor. “It's not important, believe me.”
Bashir looked up with a frown. “It is! I broke one of your possessions! Now tell me what it is, so I can have a new one made for you!”
Garak felt like he was having a minor claustrophobic panic attack in the face of this damned over-helpful Human. He could feel his self control cracking and knew it was showing in his face. The doctor noticed it, of course. Again he put that unwanted, unwelcome- but oh- so soft and warm hand on Garak's itchy shoulder. This time he simply could not help leaning into the touch and he was sure his barely concealed hiss of pleasure must be ringing in Bashir's ears. But his friend did not back away or remove his hand. Instead his face softened and his voice was a soothing balm, obviously meant to relax and comfort a suffering friend. “Garak... I can see you're hurting somehow. Let me help you, please.”
Suddenly it was all too much. He was assaulted from all sides at once. The doctor's eyes and voice, his smell and touch, his very presence washed over Garak, making his head spin. He would have been able to pull himself together again, had it not been for that most feared emotion of all, which chose that exact moment to rear its ugly head. Tain had warned him time and time again about that very sentiment. It was the most obvious sign of weakness. The ultimate stupidity.
Hope.
But sure enough. It was there. Small, but rapidly overtaking all his thoughts. What if he let the doctor help? What if he let himself see what would happen? What if... those two words echoed through his head in endless formations, while his young friend simply held on to him, patiently waiting for some sort of reply.
He knew the battle was lost long before he stopped frantically wringing his mind for means of escaping the inevitable conclusion. But somehow it was like a weight lifted when he finally decided to surrender himself to the situation and simply see where it would take him. After all, what harm could possibly be in it? His conscience roared in the back of his mind, using Tain's voice as always, that there was every damn harm in it. But Tain was dead, and Garak had never felt more alone, more hopeless or more desperately starved for intimacy of any kind.
He could only speculate what the sweet, young man watching him was thinking. His behaviour had to be puzzling to say the least. But no matter. It would be pointless now to try and 'save face'. Indeed it would hardly serve his purpose. Bashir did not press on. He simply stood there, waiting and channeling soothing heat from his hand into Garak's shoulder.
Finally resigning himself to betting it all and being as honest as he knew how, Garak took a deep breath and slowly backed away until the doctor let his hand drop from the shoulder. Only then could he meet the questioning eyes of his guest and only then did he regain the use of his voice, which had been somewhat impaired for the past few minutes. With effort, he relaxed his face, took the kosan out of Bashir's hands and hitched on a small, friendly smile. “So... you wanted to know what this is.”
Bashir simply nodded and waited for Garak to continue. Turning away and slowly moving towards his couch, he explained calmly while he was a roaring chaos of uncertainty inside. “It's a Cardassian tool called a kosan. Also sometimes unflatteringly referred to as The Bachelor's Wife.”
There was a heavy pause while Garak considered how to proceed. The doctor remained near the door, his brow furrowed in thought. “I'm... not sure I understand.”
Keeping his back to him, Garak sat down gingerly on the edge of his couch, careful not to let his stained shirt come into contact with the surface of the backrest. “I'm sure that as a doctor you are aware that Cardassians shed their scales once a year and the medical consequences of this. But I doubt that any of your medical files taught you the social significance of that event.”
Bashir silently moved closer and sat down on the other end of the couch, observing his friend carefully. “No, they didn't.”
Garak placed the kosan on a low table next to the couch and kept his eyes lowered as he explained further. “You see, doctor, the scales of adult Cardassian men don't just fall off by themselves like the women's do. They require attention over a couple of days, to ensure that they all come off and all the new scales are completely emerged. That's what the kosan is for. It's designed for the task of removing dead scales. But in essence, it's only a last resort.”
Turning his eyes to the doctor, Garak found him meeting his eyes with patient wonder. He kept a sharp eye out for any negative change in his guests expression as he carefully explained on.
“Traditionally it was the duty of one's wife to tend to the shedding. As most Cardassians strive to get married and indeed consider it their duty to reproduce for the good of the state, only very few need the kosan, and it's considered somewhat of a taboo to acknowledge that you have to use one. In more recent times however, it's widely accepted to have one's lover or even a paid courtesan aid you with this sensitive task. And consequently it's become even more shameful to have to use the kosan.”
Bashir's face showed no change yet. He was completely absorbed in his friend's words and his eyes were fixed on the shifting ridges and scales, slowly revealing more and more how nervous Garak really was. “It's considered a very private thing and is not openly discussed or dealt with. Only someone who is very intimately familiar with your whole body is supposed to be involved. Your friends or even your closest family are not the sort of people you do this with. It's... not acceptable.”
The doctor frowned as Garak paused, not quite sure how to continue. Bashir finally ventured to speak after a long moment of deep thought. “Would it make any difference if... if I swore I would never tell anyone?”
A sudden bitter laugh from his host made Bashir's eyebrows disappear in his hairline.
“My dear doctor, who would you tell? Who would care? Only other Cardassians would recognize the impropriety of the gesture anyway. No. It's more of a... personal issue.”
Garak swallowed visibly and kept his hands firmly in his lap to keep them from shaking as he prepared to make the point which would most likely make his guest run in horror. “No... the reason why only lovers and wives do this, is that the shedding is tightly linked to very... sensitive areas. Places of vulnerability, areas not easily accessible by yourself and... erogenous zones of course.”
Stealing a glance at his friend he was amazed to see no sign of disgust or indeed any negative emotion yet. Simply a rather puzzled expression. He hurriedly explained further, before the idea could sink in and cut the whole thing very short. “You must understand, doctor, for a Cardassian, there is a huge difference between a lover and a friend. Yes, we trust those who earn it, but there are still limits to how close we would ever be with even our closest friends. For instance, it's considered very unwise and weak to appear naked in front of anyone but your partner. Another reason why I've always been very reluctant indeed to undergo your famous physicals.”
Finally Bashir spoke in a firmer voice, as if he suddenly understood something. “So, what you're saying is that you don't want my help, because I'm your friend and it would then be... improper?”
Not exactly the point he was trying to make, but at least the doctor now understood a little more of his strange behavior. Now for the ultimate breaking point. The point of no return. “Well... yes... and no. The thing is, my dear doctor... I... do want your help. But I cannot accept it... as a friend.”
The silence in the room was a torture unlike any Garak could remember having ever endured before. Unable to keep his gaze on his friend, he fixed his eyes on his lap and kept them there, while the doctor processed what he had said. After a while he began to fear that Bashir simply could not fathom what he was asking, so he would have to say it even clearer. As if it wasn't difficult enough. Finally after long minutes of agony, Bashir cleared his throat nervously.
“All right, so... it would only be acceptable for me to help you if... I became your lover?”
Gathering his courage Garak finally looked at his guest again. The doctor's face was a chaos of emotions, no single one staying long enough to be clear. But he wasn't leaving either. The hope blossomed anew in Garak's chest.
“Exactly.”
Eventually the doctor's eyes left Garak for the first time since they sat down and he gazed thoughtfully into the empty air. Garak held his breath as the thoughts raced around behind the smooth Human forehead and awaited his sentence. When the doctor finally straightened with jaw set and shoulders squared, Garak was prepared for the rejection. He was prepared for the worst.
“All right, Garak. If I have to become sexually involved with you to prevent you from hurting yourself, I will. After all, I can't imagine anyone else on the station willing to do this for you. But you are my friend and my patient, and I will do this to keep you from harm.
Garak's heart sank. No, he had not been prepared for the worst. Julian offering himself willingly as some sort of living kosan was even worse than pure rejection. He was not going to be his lover. He was going to be a friend performing a service. It was heartbreaking. He felt his lips stretch automatically into what must have been a very strained smile, but Bashir didn't seem to notice or acknowledge it. Feeling that things could hardly get any worse, Garak accepted the offer, feeling that from here on, things could only improve. But he couldn't help the stiffness in his voice when he said: “Thank you, doctor. I can't tell you how grateful I am for your help.”
Next.
Part: 2/3
Codes: DS9, G/B
Rating: NC-17. Cause there's sex in it. *nods*
Word count: 12.251
Warnings: Angst, maybe?
Beta:
prelocandkanar . You are a goddess! *grovels*Feedback: Yes please.
Disclaimer: I don't own any angsting Cardassians or guilty Doctors. *sigh* Not mine. At all. Oh I only wish.
Notes: Not sure about the timeline for this one, but since there is no Ziyal to be found, I think I'll set this after By Inferno's Light.
Summary: Garak is feeling lonely and depressed while going through his shedding season. Doctor Bashir proves to be an annoyance difficult to get rid of. Cue truckloads of angst and misunderstandings. And Sex.
“Computer, replicate standard Cardassian kosan, fifteen inches.”
Garak sighed as the item appeared in the replicator. How he hated these things. But unfortunately they had become all to familiar to him during his lonely exile. Removing the dead scales without help was not easy, and despite that the kosan with its hooks and wedges was designed for the purpose, it was always very unpleasant. Not like when you had a loving partner, willing to do the sensitive work.
He wistfully thought back to the last time someone had done that for him, while removing his tunic, wincing as it caught on the scales of his arms. With a slight shock he found it had been over five years since he last had someone help him with it. She hadn't been a long term partner, but she had been very sweet and gentle. Had he really done this himself so many times now? He thought back as he entered his bathroom and laid out a towel on the floor to catch the scales. Several days a year for five years? He found it hard to believe.
As the main wedge of the kosan loosened the first scale on his shoulder blade with a jab of pain, followed by a maddening itch, the memory of all the lonely nights of doing this suddenly came back to him all too clearly. He found himself longing for someone... anyone willing to join him. Someone to oil the scales, soften them and gently rub until they came off by themselves, not needing the aid of the cold kosan. And the sensitivity of the new scales underneath was... unparalleled. Having a lover do this was mind-blowing.
Surely there was nothing more erotic in the world than gentle lips on fresh scales. Hands kneading the velvet plates, so soft still that they felt more like baby rhama leather than the usual nail-like texture when they hardened. Those precious hours of over-sensitized flesh and cartilage spent with a passionate bedmate were moments all adult Cardassians could look back on with smiles. Garak did not smile, however, when his body reacted to the train of thought and reminded him once again just how alone he was. His heated skin and tightened groin seemed to be mocking his loneliness.
Even for a Cardassian, Garak was not one much for sexual self-gratification. His species in general possessed sufficient social skills to never go too long without willing partners, even when away from their home world. But it had been years for Garak now. Even for a race not famed for their sexual cravings, years of forced celibacy would take more self restraint than could possibly be healthy for a man in his prime. Unlike certain other humanoid species, Cardassian libido did not exactly drop with age. Another reason why hardly anyone - even senior citizens - on Garak's home world would ever be reduced to such loneliness as Garak was punished with for his misdeeds.
He could feel his precious self control starting to slip through his fingers more and more every day. His reaction to the doctor's casual touch was all the proof he needed. It would not do. He would have to tend to that problem later. And of course his treacherous mind jumped right back to the deliriously wonderful sensation of the doctor's steady hands and warm fingers, gently removing the loose scale on his neck ridge. How heavenly it would be if his lovely, young friend was the one doing the rubbing and stroking. The satisfying gentle scratching of nails over his oiled, but still itchy skin. The amazing feel of that alien, smooth, golden flesh against...
He ripped off a scale viciously to cut the thought short and winced as he felt the new scale tear slightly at the edge. Damn. With his luck, the small rifts made by his rough self treatment would get infected, so he would have no choice but to go see the doctor himself. He would of course want to know how it had happened and would probably not quit nagging until Garak volunteered something embarrassingly personal. Like how this shouldn't have to be done alone. Or how he had as good as no chance of finding someone to do this for him any time soon. After all, the doctor was probably the only person on this station who didn't regard him with some form of dislike.
Again he allowed his mind to drift to the young man, imagining them both in a traditional Cardassian steam room, the young man oiling him up while the scales softened in the heat and damp. How exquisite it would be to have a willing lover heating his body from the inside as well as outside, distracting from the itching and stinging with gentle caresses and soft kisses. How glorious...
How impossible. He was absolutely convinced that the doctor had no such desires. He had tested his friend again and again, teasing him, taunting him, goading him. But not once had he seen any response that would have lead him to believe that Bashir would be willing to join him in bed. They could flirt, surely, and they did. But that was it. Bashir had made his interests perfectly clear, given the amount of time he spent praising the virtues of some young lady or other, while Garak had been doing everything short of kissing him in the replimat to make his own point. There was clearly no hope for them to ever be involved.
Even if Bashir would be open to a relationship with a male alien who in Federation years was more than twenty years his senior, Garak knew he had put a peg in the wheel for himself, by not being just a little more honest with the young man from the beginning. And now it was too late. The doctor probably wouldn't believe anything he said these days, no matter how close he could get to the truth. And of course, that was also ignoring the other obvious drawbacks of getting involved with a Cardassian on a Bajoran space station.
Feeling now more than a little frustrated he flung the kosan through the doorway of the bathroom and watched it skid to a halt in the middle of the living room floor. Resting his elbows on the sink he rubbed his face vigorously, willing the heady fantasies of his Human friend out of his mind. When he finally looked up again, his hands were covered in tiny, shimmering scales. He sighed in defeat as he picked up a small, delicate brush to rub off the facial scales. With a last sour look at himself in the mirror, he again took up the lengthy task at hand.
He had just started on his upper arms when the door chime sounded. He groaned and threw on his light undershirt as he went to the door. He was not in any mood or condition to have visitors. The door whispered open to reveal the doctor wearing a slightly abashed expression. “Hello, Garak. May I come in?”
Of all the people to interrupt him now, it had to be the very person he least of all wanted to see. His face was a cold facade as he steeled himself in the doorway, effectively blocking the entrance. “No, you may not, doctor.”
Bashir sighed and looked at his toes. “I suppose that's only fair. Look, I just came to apologize. I guess I overstepped your boundaries and I'm very sorry if I offended you.”
Garak didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that statement. He was not offended. Oh no. Neither did he feel that the doctor needed to apologize for awakening his all too long ignored desires. But of course, there would be no telling his young friend all this. For now, all Garak wanted was to get Bashir away from his door, so he could go back to his lonely grooming and later some very satisfying stress relief.
“That's perfectly all right. I hold no grudge against you. Now if you'll excuse me...”
Turning his back to the door even before it was closed completely he was shocked when he suddenly heard the doctor cry out: “Garak! You're bleeding!”
Stopping the door with his hand, Bashir immediately stepped inside and reached for him, eyes fixed on the white shirt stained with purple-red blood oozing from his torn scales. Garak whirled around and stopped his friend in his tracks with his most commanding voice. “Stop! I cannot allow you to enter my quarters at the moment. Now, would you please leave?”
Bashir flinched, but refused to be dismissed. “But you're hurt. I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on!”
Snarling, Garak advanced on his Human friend, backing him towards the door. “Yes you are. Being a doctor does not give you the right to invade my privacy!”
The doctor swallowed hard but stood his ground after a few steps. “Actually it does. I am the CMO of this station, and that means I have the right to interfere if any of its inhabitants are doing serious injury to themselves.”
Stepping in so close that Bashir could smell the bitter Cardassian blood through the light shirt, Garak fixed his friend with a withering stare. “You are without comparison the most insufferable nuisance. A few drops of blood is hardly a serious injury and yes, it might be self inflicted but it needs to be done. Would you barge into Sisko's quarters if he cut himself shaving? Would you rush Chief O'Brien to the infirmary if he burned his thumb, fixing the relays? No. I didn't think so. Now, would you please leave, or shall I have to call security and make us all very uncomfortable?”
Bashir stared searchingly into Garak's face and made the older man back away slightly from the intensity of his eyes. “Why won't you let me help you? I'm your friend.”
This time Garak sighed and looked down. “That's precisely why, doctor. You are my friend. Therefore I cannot ask you to help me with this.”
Oblivious of Garak's internal struggles, Bashir stepped in close again and laid a warm hand on the itchy, sensitive shoulder, making him shiver ever so slightly. It took a good deal of willpower to prevent himself from leaning closer to the touch. To urge the hand to move.
“You don't have to ask me, Garak. I'm offering my help willingly.”
Garak closed his eyes and ground his teeth. Why did his dear doctor have to make this so difficult?
“You don't know what you're offering.”
Bashir frowned and squeezed the shoulder, making Garak hiss silently, head still bowed. “Then explain it to me. Explain it to me, so I can prove to you that I mean what I say. I want to help you.”
The frustrations welled up in Garak and he suddenly felt desperate to make his all too desirable friend go as far away as possible, before he did something incredibly stupid. Turning away with a grimace he wrenched his shoulder from the doctor's grip with a gasp at the intense sensation. “Doctor, you don't understand!”
At this exclamation, Bashir flared up. “No, you're right! I don't! Because you never tell me a damn thing! You can go on for hours talking riddles and expect me to figure things out for myself, but I'm not a bloody mind reader, you know!”
“Hah! No. Thank the stars for that.” The barked out laugh from his tormented host apparently took Bashir completely by surprise, because his look was all confusion as Garak turned back to face him. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Garak pulled himself together, determined to get rid of his unwelcome guest. “It means, doctor, that my thoughts are private, as are my quarters. And you are not welcome in either right now.”
Advancing on the younger man while speaking, he forced him to step backwards towards the door. But after only a few steps, there was a surprising crunch as Bashir stepped on the kosan, snapping it in half. “Oh no! Garak, I'm so sorry.”
Garak couldn't care less. He just needed the doctor to leave. Immediately. “That's quite all right. No harm done. Now please leave.”
Ignoring him completely, Bashir picked up the kosan and inspected the damage. “I'm really sorry, Garak. I'll get you a new one. Uhm... what is it?”
The grinding of Garak's teeth sounded like a roar in his skull. He had employed his most commanding voice and demeanor to make sure the doctor could be in no doubt how serious he was. Being ignored was certainly not what he had intended. Had his self imposed abstinence reduced him to this state? Had he lost his touch in this cold, lonely prison of his? Probably. He felt like a fool. But there was no time for self reproach.
The doctor was still standing much too close. Garak could smell him. Could even feel the heat from his warmblooded body in the Cardassian standard temperature of his quarters. The slender Human hands sliding up and down the broken shaft of the kosan made very unwelcome images spring to mind and Garak swallowed what felt like his whole shipment of coat lining before feeling able to answer the doctor. “It's not important, believe me.”
Bashir looked up with a frown. “It is! I broke one of your possessions! Now tell me what it is, so I can have a new one made for you!”
Garak felt like he was having a minor claustrophobic panic attack in the face of this damned over-helpful Human. He could feel his self control cracking and knew it was showing in his face. The doctor noticed it, of course. Again he put that unwanted, unwelcome- but oh- so soft and warm hand on Garak's itchy shoulder. This time he simply could not help leaning into the touch and he was sure his barely concealed hiss of pleasure must be ringing in Bashir's ears. But his friend did not back away or remove his hand. Instead his face softened and his voice was a soothing balm, obviously meant to relax and comfort a suffering friend. “Garak... I can see you're hurting somehow. Let me help you, please.”
Suddenly it was all too much. He was assaulted from all sides at once. The doctor's eyes and voice, his smell and touch, his very presence washed over Garak, making his head spin. He would have been able to pull himself together again, had it not been for that most feared emotion of all, which chose that exact moment to rear its ugly head. Tain had warned him time and time again about that very sentiment. It was the most obvious sign of weakness. The ultimate stupidity.
Hope.
But sure enough. It was there. Small, but rapidly overtaking all his thoughts. What if he let the doctor help? What if he let himself see what would happen? What if... those two words echoed through his head in endless formations, while his young friend simply held on to him, patiently waiting for some sort of reply.
He knew the battle was lost long before he stopped frantically wringing his mind for means of escaping the inevitable conclusion. But somehow it was like a weight lifted when he finally decided to surrender himself to the situation and simply see where it would take him. After all, what harm could possibly be in it? His conscience roared in the back of his mind, using Tain's voice as always, that there was every damn harm in it. But Tain was dead, and Garak had never felt more alone, more hopeless or more desperately starved for intimacy of any kind.
He could only speculate what the sweet, young man watching him was thinking. His behaviour had to be puzzling to say the least. But no matter. It would be pointless now to try and 'save face'. Indeed it would hardly serve his purpose. Bashir did not press on. He simply stood there, waiting and channeling soothing heat from his hand into Garak's shoulder.
Finally resigning himself to betting it all and being as honest as he knew how, Garak took a deep breath and slowly backed away until the doctor let his hand drop from the shoulder. Only then could he meet the questioning eyes of his guest and only then did he regain the use of his voice, which had been somewhat impaired for the past few minutes. With effort, he relaxed his face, took the kosan out of Bashir's hands and hitched on a small, friendly smile. “So... you wanted to know what this is.”
Bashir simply nodded and waited for Garak to continue. Turning away and slowly moving towards his couch, he explained calmly while he was a roaring chaos of uncertainty inside. “It's a Cardassian tool called a kosan. Also sometimes unflatteringly referred to as The Bachelor's Wife.”
There was a heavy pause while Garak considered how to proceed. The doctor remained near the door, his brow furrowed in thought. “I'm... not sure I understand.”
Keeping his back to him, Garak sat down gingerly on the edge of his couch, careful not to let his stained shirt come into contact with the surface of the backrest. “I'm sure that as a doctor you are aware that Cardassians shed their scales once a year and the medical consequences of this. But I doubt that any of your medical files taught you the social significance of that event.”
Bashir silently moved closer and sat down on the other end of the couch, observing his friend carefully. “No, they didn't.”
Garak placed the kosan on a low table next to the couch and kept his eyes lowered as he explained further. “You see, doctor, the scales of adult Cardassian men don't just fall off by themselves like the women's do. They require attention over a couple of days, to ensure that they all come off and all the new scales are completely emerged. That's what the kosan is for. It's designed for the task of removing dead scales. But in essence, it's only a last resort.”
Turning his eyes to the doctor, Garak found him meeting his eyes with patient wonder. He kept a sharp eye out for any negative change in his guests expression as he carefully explained on.
“Traditionally it was the duty of one's wife to tend to the shedding. As most Cardassians strive to get married and indeed consider it their duty to reproduce for the good of the state, only very few need the kosan, and it's considered somewhat of a taboo to acknowledge that you have to use one. In more recent times however, it's widely accepted to have one's lover or even a paid courtesan aid you with this sensitive task. And consequently it's become even more shameful to have to use the kosan.”
Bashir's face showed no change yet. He was completely absorbed in his friend's words and his eyes were fixed on the shifting ridges and scales, slowly revealing more and more how nervous Garak really was. “It's considered a very private thing and is not openly discussed or dealt with. Only someone who is very intimately familiar with your whole body is supposed to be involved. Your friends or even your closest family are not the sort of people you do this with. It's... not acceptable.”
The doctor frowned as Garak paused, not quite sure how to continue. Bashir finally ventured to speak after a long moment of deep thought. “Would it make any difference if... if I swore I would never tell anyone?”
A sudden bitter laugh from his host made Bashir's eyebrows disappear in his hairline.
“My dear doctor, who would you tell? Who would care? Only other Cardassians would recognize the impropriety of the gesture anyway. No. It's more of a... personal issue.”
Garak swallowed visibly and kept his hands firmly in his lap to keep them from shaking as he prepared to make the point which would most likely make his guest run in horror. “No... the reason why only lovers and wives do this, is that the shedding is tightly linked to very... sensitive areas. Places of vulnerability, areas not easily accessible by yourself and... erogenous zones of course.”
Stealing a glance at his friend he was amazed to see no sign of disgust or indeed any negative emotion yet. Simply a rather puzzled expression. He hurriedly explained further, before the idea could sink in and cut the whole thing very short. “You must understand, doctor, for a Cardassian, there is a huge difference between a lover and a friend. Yes, we trust those who earn it, but there are still limits to how close we would ever be with even our closest friends. For instance, it's considered very unwise and weak to appear naked in front of anyone but your partner. Another reason why I've always been very reluctant indeed to undergo your famous physicals.”
Finally Bashir spoke in a firmer voice, as if he suddenly understood something. “So, what you're saying is that you don't want my help, because I'm your friend and it would then be... improper?”
Not exactly the point he was trying to make, but at least the doctor now understood a little more of his strange behavior. Now for the ultimate breaking point. The point of no return. “Well... yes... and no. The thing is, my dear doctor... I... do want your help. But I cannot accept it... as a friend.”
The silence in the room was a torture unlike any Garak could remember having ever endured before. Unable to keep his gaze on his friend, he fixed his eyes on his lap and kept them there, while the doctor processed what he had said. After a while he began to fear that Bashir simply could not fathom what he was asking, so he would have to say it even clearer. As if it wasn't difficult enough. Finally after long minutes of agony, Bashir cleared his throat nervously.
“All right, so... it would only be acceptable for me to help you if... I became your lover?”
Gathering his courage Garak finally looked at his guest again. The doctor's face was a chaos of emotions, no single one staying long enough to be clear. But he wasn't leaving either. The hope blossomed anew in Garak's chest.
“Exactly.”
Eventually the doctor's eyes left Garak for the first time since they sat down and he gazed thoughtfully into the empty air. Garak held his breath as the thoughts raced around behind the smooth Human forehead and awaited his sentence. When the doctor finally straightened with jaw set and shoulders squared, Garak was prepared for the rejection. He was prepared for the worst.
“All right, Garak. If I have to become sexually involved with you to prevent you from hurting yourself, I will. After all, I can't imagine anyone else on the station willing to do this for you. But you are my friend and my patient, and I will do this to keep you from harm.
Garak's heart sank. No, he had not been prepared for the worst. Julian offering himself willingly as some sort of living kosan was even worse than pure rejection. He was not going to be his lover. He was going to be a friend performing a service. It was heartbreaking. He felt his lips stretch automatically into what must have been a very strained smile, but Bashir didn't seem to notice or acknowledge it. Feeling that things could hardly get any worse, Garak accepted the offer, feeling that from here on, things could only improve. But he couldn't help the stiffness in his voice when he said: “Thank you, doctor. I can't tell you how grateful I am for your help.”
Next.
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no subject
Date: 2010-03-07 02:21 am (UTC)Yet another great chapter. I find the whole idea of Cardassian shedding and the implications for male Cardassians a fascinating idea.
And Garak's so right, hope dies last ...
Oh, just had a though, what if Julian's "offer" was more than just friendly? Will have to find it out tomorrow ;-)
no subject
Date: 2010-03-07 06:13 am (UTC)I'm so happy you like it! *bites nails about the ending*
no subject
Date: 2010-04-22 07:37 pm (UTC)This sentence just made me giggle " Garak swallowed what felt like his whole shipment of coat lining," perfect for a tailor :-)
I also love how you in your stories (I have listened to a few others as podfics but not yet left reviews for all *looking shamefaced*) write about Cardassian society or physiology and such which aren't described in canon. It find it fascinating and it makes for a much better insight into Cardassians and Garak in particular.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-22 08:05 pm (UTC)I'll hopefully have this one ready for podfic too, soon enough. :o)