Title:   A Little Romance
Author:  Kathryn Ramage
Codes:   G/B, PG  
Summary: Bashir invites Garak into the holosuite with 
some rather specific expectations.

Paramount owns Star Trek, DS9, and the characters even if 
they never really knew what to do with them.  This story 
was written purely for entertainment purposes.

Copyright Sept. 2000

~*\*~*/*~

It was a moonlit, summer night in Monte Carlo.  The sky 
was clear and starry, the breeze light and warm, and the 
terrace of the casino overlooked the sea.  The setting 
appealed to Julian Bashir's aesthetic sensibilities, and 
he hoped that Garak would find it appealing as well.

This was a scene from one of his holosuite spy-games. They 
were supposed to encounter the story's arch-villain here 
in the casino so that they could be kidnapped, threatened, 
and eventually escape to save civilization-as-they-knew-it.  
But tonight, the fate of the civilized world must hang in 
the balance awhile longer; more personal matters claimed
Julian's attention tonight.

He'd invited his Cardassian friend to join him this evening 
with the unspoken understanding that this was meant to be a 
date.  The holosuite had been reserved for three hours--far 
longer than the story required--and they had put on their 
tuxedos and played out the adventure up to this point. Now, 
they were at the scene he had been waiting for.

Garak had wandered out of the noisy and crowded lounge and 
onto the terrace.  After a moment's hesitation, Bashir 
grabbed a couple of drinks off a waiter's tray, ordered the 
computer to eliminate all characters from the setting, and 
went out to join his friend.

The Cardassian leaned on the broad marble balustrade, gazing 
out at the moon-dappled sea.

"Doctor, this is really quite pleasant," he said, turning 
back at the sound of Julian's footsteps on the flagstones 
behind him.  "Is it an actual place on your Earth?"

"Monte Carlo's real enough--it's a rather famous resort city 
on the Mediterranean sea.  I suppose this is an historically 
accurate representation of what it looked like 400 years ago.  
It's nothing like this today," Julian went on, struggling for 
innocuous conversation.  "The water has receded from the old 
city, and it's at least a kilometer's walk to the beach."

Garak looked interested.  "This isn't where your home is?"

"Oh, no.  That's farther north--another, larger city, 
called London.  It's cold and rainy most of the time. You 
wouldn't like it."  Bashir realized he was babbling, and 
quickly handed Garak one of the drinks.  "The view should 
be spectacular in the daylight.  The water, it's an extra-
ordinary shade of blue.  That's why they used to call this 
the Cote d'Azur--the Blue Coast."

"You can make it day now if you want to."  

"No." Bashir set his drink down on the balustrade.  "No, not 
just now."  

It was the perfect moment for a kiss, but Garak made no move 
toward him.  Instead of taking advantage of this opportunity, 
the tailor stood toying suspiciously with the speared olive 
in his glass--Bashir recalled that the last time he'd given 
Garak a martini, his friend had been disconcerted at finding 
vegetables floating in his drink. Once or twice, Garak glanced 
through the open french windows and seemed curious at the 
empty casino beyond.  He must have realized that the program 
had been stopped, and why, but Julian didn't know what he 
was waiting for.  Did Garak want him to make the first move?  

Well, it was _his_ scenario.  He'd have to take the lead. 
Casting aside his hesitation, Julian reached up and yanked 
on Garak's bowtie in a playful, preliminary gesture.

"Doctor!" the Cardassian cried in surprise.

"I promise I'll fix it for you--later."  He stepped boldly 
forward to deliver a kiss, but Garak's attention was still
on his loosened tie.

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to arrange this
ridiculous piece of adornment correctly?" he scolded as he
attempted to knot the dangling strips of black cloth.

"Never mind the tie," Julian muttered, crestfallen by the
tailor's response.  This wasn't going quite the way he'd
imagined it. 

Garak looked up.  "Have I done something wrong, Doctor? You 
sound disappointed."

"Not disappointed.  Only..." Julian tried to explain. "Here 
we are in this beautiful setting--the moonlight, the waves 
crashing on the cliffs, the string quartet--"  He had gotten 
rid of the musicians, but the program's soundtrack was still 
playing a languid waltz.  

"Do you want me to ask you to dance?" Garak seemed utterly 
mystified.

"No," Julian laughed.  "But doesn't _this_-" he waved both
arms to indicate the lush surroundings- "stir anything in you?" 

"Should it?"  Bashir did look disappointed then, and Garak
added quickly, apologetically, "You misunderstand, dear Doctor. 
Please, rest assured that I would find you 'stirring' in almost 
any situation, but all _this_ is unnecessary as far as I'm 
concerned."

"But you said you thought it was 'pleasant'."

"It is.  And if this scenario is what _you_ require, I am, 
of course, willing to indulge you, but I have to confess that 
I'm confused by your choice.  When I've joined you in similar 
holosuite adventures before, we've been shot at, overcome 
by toxic gas, and nearly buried in molten lava.  All very 
invigorating in its way, but I don't see how it can have 
erotic associations. Perhaps it would help if you explained 
what reaction you were anticipating from me?"

"I was hoping you'd kiss me," Julian informed him.

A small smile appeared on the tailor's face.  "You had only 
to ask."

"That wouldn't be very spontaneous."  Feeling a little self-
conscious, he elaborated:  "I had imagined that, when we 
came to this point in the holo-game, I'd bring you out here, 
where it's dark and it's private.  We'd start off slowly--
our usual banter, a joke or two.  Once we were more comfort-
able with each other, and the time was right, you'd take me 
in your arms.  You'd sweep me up, passionately, taking me by 
surprise, and drown me in kisses."
 
Garak's small smile grew broader as he listened to Julian 
describe his expectations.  "How can it be a surprise," he 
asked, "if you've planned it all so carefully?"

He didn't know if Garak was teasing now or still genuinely 
baffled, but Bashir had to admit that the tailor had a point. 
It was silly of him to expect Garak to act out the scene
according to _his_ imagination.  How could Garak follow his 
cues when he didn't even perceive the romantic aspects of 
this setting?  Why should he be inspired by moonlight?  After 
all, Cardassia Prime had no moons.

Garak had been watching him intently during these musings and, 
after a brief period of consideration, he announced, "I must 
say, Doctor, the more I discover about your fantasy life, the 
more strange and fascinating I find it."  He set his drink 
down beside Bashir's and advanced toward him.  "I'm very 
sorry I misinterpreted your overtures.  I think I understand 
now what it is you want." And suddenly, Julian found himself 
in the tailor's arms and he was being kissed with a passion 
that took him completely by surprise.

The next thing he knew, he was up against the balustrade. His 
own tie was undone, his jacket was half-off, and one of his 
suspender straps had slipped from his shoulder to dangle off 
his elbow.  And Garak went on kissing him and kissing him until 
his head spun.  For a moment, he thought he might topple over 
the edge.  One hand grabbed a fistful of the tailor's collar 
and the other, flailing for balance, knocked over one of the 
martini glasses; he heard it shatter as it hit the rocks below.  

Then, just as he began to believe that Garak meant to make love 
to him right here on the terrace, the kissing stopped.  Dazed 
and panting, he rested his forehead on the tailor's shoulder.

Garak murmured against his ear, "Was that the way you always 
imagined it, Doctor?"

"Uhm...yes."

"Tell me, have you entertained very many thoughts about me set
in such extravagant surroundings?"

"A few." 

"I look forward to seeing them--I'm sure they'll all be just 
as interesting as this one."

Julian lifted his head.  "You can't say you've never had 
fantasies about _me_?"

"A few, but nothing so well-choreographed."

"I would've thought that, with your literary tastes and- ah- 
imaginative capacities, you'd come up with something just as 
dramatic."

"No. My thoughts about you are really very simple.  The 
difference, dear Julian, is that you want a romance."

"I suppose so," he admitted.  Garak seemed ready to play
along in his games; it was only fair to offer the same in 
return.  Thinking of the kind of role he might wind up 
playing in a Cardassian-style fantasy, he asked, "And what 
do _you_ want?" with a pang of trepidation.

"Just you."

After the intensity of that first kiss, and considering
the one that followed, Julian had to believe that this was 
the first totally honest thing Garak had ever said to him.

~*\~end~/*~

Kathryn Ramage                            kramage@erols.com
~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~
"It's about Garak...I'm afraid this relationship has gotten 
a little out of hand."
                                - Dr. Bashir, Past Prologue