An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 29: The Price of Knowing You
Summary: Julian meets with Garak for a date in the Paldar sector.
He’d been watching Garak without really meaning to. When he propped his chin in his hand, his sleeve nudged the rim of his glass, nearly tipping it. He caught it at the last second, heat rising in his cheeks.
Garak’s eyes moved to the glass, then back to Julian with a knowing smile.
“Careful, my dear,” he teased affectionately. “If I distract you this easily over dinner, I can only imagine what we’ll be like at home.”
What we’ll be like at home. Like it was decided. Julian’s heart skipped, meeting Garak’s gaze with quiet boldness. He let the thought unfold, not as some distant future, but as something already taking hold. He imagined the rhythm of their days weaving together in small, certain ways.
Garak’s modest house, with its narrow rooms and uneven stone floors, would shift to hold two lives instead of one. A second cup on the kitchen shelf. A medical datapad left beside Garak’s latest tailoring on the table by the window. His lab coat draped over the back of a chair; Garak’s fabrics stacked with their usual neatness on the benchtop.
Outside, the garden still sparse—vines just beginning to climb the trellises, seedlings tucked into beds they'd turned together. In the evenings, he imagined setting aside his work, pulling on his gloves, and joining Garak among the rows as the sun dipped. Garak kneeling to fix a bed while Julian watered the new shoots, their conversation meandering without urgency through the cool air.
Later, they would sit together on the garden bench, their bodies angled easily toward one another. Julian would lean his head against Garak’s shoulder, the fabric warm with the day’s lingering heat. Garak would tilt his head just enough for their temples to rest together in quiet acknowledgment of belonging.
The garden would draw a soft circle around them, as though it had been waiting for this all along.
The clarity of it startled him—the depth of it, too. He almost smiled at himself, embarrassed by the ease with which he could build a future out of a single phrase.
“Who says I’d mind the distraction?”
Something softened in Garak’s expression. “No,” he said, voice dipping a little, “I don’t suppose you would.”
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