Chapter Text
saw you leanin’ against that old record machine
saw the name of your band written on the marquee
it’s a full moon tonight so we gettin’ rowdy
yeah we gettin’ rowdy, g-g-gettin’ rowdy
* * *
By the time he gets out of the restaurant it’s ten after ten. I’m late—
Oh, well, it can’t be helped; he’d had to change out of his uniform. There was no way he was going anywhere dressed like that. And then there’d been last-minute chit-chat with Jadzia, and waiting for Kira to finish counting the till, God, it had been interminable, let me out of here!
Now, finally, he’s out, and the moon is full and bright, the night is warm; cars rush along the avenue, headlights leading the way, and the occasional thump of bass dopplers past as he looks back and forth across the parking lot. Where is he? He was supposed to meet me here—
Oh. There he is, down by his shop, its lights off and the big “Garak’s Clothiers” gone dark. Julian can’t help but grin at the sight of him. For a moment he just looks, enjoying the perfectly dressed, terribly incongruous man leaning up against the slightly dilapidated wall of the plaza. He looks like he should be... I don’t know, attending the opera or something. Instead, here he is, propping up a strip mall. It’s weirdly endearing.
“Sorry I’m late, Garak.” He tries to make his smile both warm and apologetic; it’s an odd mix, and he’s not sure that it sits quite right on his face. Garak seems to get it, though, and his own smile in return is nothing but pleased.
“Not at all, my dear,” and he pushes away from the wall, stands tall, brushes himself off. “It’s a lovely night to be outside. I was quite enjoying the wait.”
“Oh, well, in that case, I’m sorry I interrupted you.”
“I suppose it’s probably for the best.” Garak’s tone is magnanimous, and Julian’s smile widens to a grin.
“So... ready for fun?” He gestures towards the street.
“Lead the way.” Garak tilts his head, smiling, and they head off across the parking lot together, matching strides. Once they reach the sidewalk, they turn, heading west towards Orion Park. They’ve got a few blocks to go, but it’s a nice night; the city’s warm and busy, and Julian’s feeling good, feeling optimistic. He smiles to himself.
“I’m still a little surprised that you agreed to do this.”
“Really? Why?” From the corner of his eye, he sees Garak turn to look at him, curious.
“Well, it... it really doesn’t seem like your style, to be honest.” He shrugs, still smiling. “When I asked, I figured you’d tell me you had a poetry reading to attend, or maybe a busy night of embroidery—”
Garak snorts a small, derisive laugh, and it’s a funny enough sound that Julian is surprised into a laugh too. “You must think I’m very dull, Julian.”
“No, not at all!” And it’s true – Garak’s very interesting, great fun to talk to, wickedly dry wit, knows lots of things; he’s a fantastic companion for about ninety percent of what Julian likes to do.
It’s that remaining ten percent that’s giving him trouble. And what they’re going to do tonight falls squarely into that ten percent.
“I just have trouble imagining you at a midway, that’s all.” Garak eating cotton candy. Garak with a big squeaky hammer. Garak riding the Tilt-A-Whirl? It’s completely impossible, too strange to even be funny.
Garak, unaware of the odd things he’s doing in Julian’s head, thank God, looks a bit unimpressed by Julian’s pat assessment. “Is that so?”
“Well, you’re just so...” And Julian gestures with one hand down the length of Garak’s body. “I mean... I’m fairly certain that vest is silk.”
“Satin, actually, but a good guess.”
“And that shirt – which is really rather nice, by the way—”
“Thank you!”
“—looks to be... well, I have no idea, but it looks expensive.”
“I sell them at quite a reasonable price, in fact.”
“You know what I mean!” He shakes his head at Garak, slightly exasperated, and Garak smiles. For a moment, they’re forced into single-file as they squeeze past a group of people waiting by a bus shelter; once past, they’re side by side again, moving down the street.
“Julian, having good taste in clothes does not preclude one from having fun.” His face is amused; his eyes are laughing.
“Never said it did. I just... I mean, a midway is crowded and noisy and dirty and loud—”
“I thought you were the one who wanted to go.” Garak’s smooth stride takes him around a store’s sandwich-board sidewalk display. “You certainly don’t sound like you’re expecting to enjoy yourself.”
Now it’s Julian’s turn to navigate treacherous terrain; the discarded pizza box is kicked to the side, out of his way. “Oh, but I like crowded and noisy and dirty and loud. And I...” He runs down, looks over at Garak, spreads his hands, a bit helpless. “I mean, I know you’re not much for any of those things. So I’m surprised you’re coming.”
A musing sort of silence from Garak as they walk, and then, “Julian Bashir, do you presume to think that you know me?”
He’s not quite sure how to take that, and he looks over; thankfully, Garak’s expression is less affronted than it is amused. He decides to respond in kind. “I think I’m starting to. Rather well, actually.” A smile never hurts, so he adds one of those, too.
Now Garak tilts his head, brows raised. “Then I’m a bit confused. If you already knew I wouldn’t like anything about this, why did you ask me to come?”
Um. Why did I? God, especially to the midway, which in his mind is always associated with acting silly and screaming on rides and eating horrendous things and generally acting like an idiot. It’s a place for first dates – or maybe second dates, where one doesn’t mind looking stupid quite as much. It’s a place for being ridiculous with one’s friends. It’s not a place for Garak.
He could’ve asked Miles – but then there would’ve been the kids, and Keiko. He could’ve asked Rijal - but then there would’ve been all of Rijal’s friends, too, and Tuveski in particular he finds rather hard to take. He could’ve asked Jadzia, or Ezri, or both. That would probably have been great, actually; Jadzia, in particular, knows how to start a party wherever she goes, and Ezri is cute and funny and would have been thrilled to come—
Never mind. Doesn’t matter, does it? Because I didn’t want to bring any of them.
He looks over at the middle-aged man walking next to him, back-lit by a store window, who is at this moment watching him think with a slightly impatient expression.
“Just... because I wanted to bring you, I suppose.” He finds himself smiling. A bit bold, to just say it flat out like that. Then again, he’s never been much for subtlety.
And Garak doesn’t seem to mind, does he, because now those raised brows are matched by quirked lips, stretching in a pleased smile. He reaches out a hand, touches Julian’s arm. “And that’s why I agreed to do this.”
His hand is cool against Julian’s skin, cool against the warmth of the night, and Julian grins at him, slips his own hand over Garak’s and squeezes for a moment.
“I promise to show you a good time.” Oh, that sounds flirtatious—
Because it is—
“I’ll hold you to that, Julian.” Garak’s smile stays the same, but his eyes close in a lazy blink, a flicker of dark lashes, and there’s a funny little twist in Julian’s middle, a bit of a sweet jolt.
Feels good. Feels strange.
It isn’t fair to tease. He lets go of Garak’s hand, and immediately it drops back to Garak’s side; now they’re walking together again, just friends, out to do something fun on a warm summer night.
That ten percent flickers into his mind again. An awful lot of that ten percent is made up of things that require a relationship rather closer than just friends.
Remind me again why I keep thinking about pulling him into that ten percent?
Because this isn’t exactly just friends, is it...
No, not just friends, and he sneaks a quick look over at Garak, who’s peering into the night, who smiles and points—
“Look!”
Julian turns and looks, and there it is, just visible over the buildings in front of them, perhaps another ten minutes’ walk down the road: the lights of the midway rise into the night, flashing from rides, from spotlights, and the Ferris wheel turns grandly over it all, sparkling like a Catherine wheel. Orion Park is overwhelmed; its trees are visible only as dark silhouettes against the flickering spectacle that has sprung up between them. Faint music drifts out into the night, along with the sound of voices, of laughter and shouts. The distant cacophony coils around Julian, pulling him in, and not just him; as they get closer to the park, there are more and more people heading the same way, laughing, talking, excited. He and Garak are slowly becoming part of a larger crowd, a throng of people, drifting slowly but with purpose, out to have fun—
I love this. He grins at Garak, who grins back, teeth flashing for just a moment, eyes bright in the dusk.
“Looks fun, doesn’t it?”
Garak’s nod is patient and indulgent, yes, Julian, very nice, but there’s just the slightest trace of something in Garak’s smile, something—
He’s excited too!
Oh, that is positively funny, and Julian wants to laugh; instead, he picks up his pace a little, letting his stride lengthen, and Garak is left a bit behind. He turns, teasing, walking backwards and gesturing at Garak: “Come on!”
Garak’s expression is the funniest blend of amused irritation. With a little half-skipping step, he closes the distance between himself and Julian, and now he walks faster too, and together they join with the crowd moving towards the midway, towards the promise of the glittering night.