Title:   A Small Corner of Happiness
Author:  Kathryn Ramage
Series:  DS9
Codes:   S/B  
Rating:  NC17  
Summary: Stranded in 21st-century San Francisco, Sisko and 
Bashir have no one turn to for comfort, except each other. 
Setting: 2025, a few months after the events of "Past Tense."

Note: This is not a sequel to my non-slashy story, "In Time's 
China Shop," but an slashy alternative using the same setting.

Special Thanks: to Heather, for her beta-reading.

Paramount owns Star Trek, DS9, and the characters.  This story 
was written purely for entertainment purposes.

Copyright March 2001

~|!|~

After the September 2024 Bell Riots in San Francisco's Sanctuary 
District A were quelled and the hostages in the processing center 
saved, Benjamin Sisko and Julian Bashir had walked away certain 
that it was only a matter of days before they were restored to 
their own time.  But as the days, then weeks, had passed and there 
was no sign of a rescue, both men were forced to accept that they 
would have to live in the 21st century for awhile.

When the Sanctuary District closed, the people who had been con-
fined there were taken to temporary shelters until better living 
arrangements could be found.  Sisko and Bashir were assigned to 
a hostel for single men.  They tried to make the best of their 
situation, as difficult as it was.  Even for the era, conditions 
were primitive:  More than one hundred men were crammed into six
rooms converted to dormitories.  They slept on rows of cots placed 
close together, and showered in group facilities with water that 
was usually cold and soap a rarity.  They wore the same clothes 
day after day, and slept in them too; the only laundry available 
was what could be washed in the bathroom sinks and left to dry on 
the inadequate heating units under close watch, lest one of the 
other inmates steal the wet clothing.  New or clean clothes only 
came as cast-offs or donations.  Food supplies were also donated, 
usually in condensed and powdered form.

It was a miserable experience for both of them, but for Bashir, 
the worst of it was the cockroaches.  From his scant historical 
knowledge, he recognized these insects as an indicator of filth 
and as carriers of disease, and he was appalled at his first 
sight of them at the shelter.  

He managed to suppress his revulsion, however, until the morning 
when he awoke to find the vermin crawling on his bedclothes.

He screamed and sat bolt upright, flinging the blanket aside. "I 
hate this place!  I hate it! I hate it!"

Sisko, jolted awake, sat up quickly to take him by the forearms.  
"Julian-"

"You can't treat human beings like this," Bashir's voice was
rising.  "You can't deprive people of basic needs, leave them 
without any dignity or hope, and not expect them to go mad!  I 
can't put up with this anymore."

"You have to."  Sisko gave him a little shake.  "We have nowhere 
else to go.  _This_ is better than the streets."

Bashir nodded reluctantly.  "How much longer?"

"I don't know."  He moved to the other bed to sit beside Bashir 
and put one arm around him.  He was aware of the other men in the 
room watching them, but he didn't care what they thought of it.  
Right now, Julian was his sole concern.

The room warden came up to them.  "Is your friend all right?  You 
know we don't allow ghosts or dims in here--if he's got a problem, 
he has to go to the psych ward."

"He's fine," Sisko insisted.  "He's just a little upset.  He's 
not used to living like this."  He pulled Julian up and took him 
to the small washroom on the top-floor landing, which would give 
them more privacy than the washroom by the showers.  As much 
privacy as they could find here. 

While Julian splashed cold water on his face, Ben checked the row 
of toilet stalls to be certain that they were alone.  He turned 
back to find the younger man staring at the orangish rust stains 
on the porcelain of the sink basin, then Julian threw down the 
water cupped in his hands in disgust.

"I don't know how much more of this I can stand before I do become 
a dim," he said in a quavering voice.  "It would be easier to just 
slip away."

There were no paper towels in the dispenser on the wall; Sisko 
grabbed a roll of toilet paper from the nearest stall and brought 
it over.  "You have to hang on, Julian," he said. "I need you."

Bashir blotted the dripping water from his face with handfuls of 
the tissue.  "You seem to hold yourself together so well, sir."

"Don't be so sure.  If _I'd_ woken up with those bugs on my bed, 
I would have screamed just as loudly."  He didn't suggest that 
his bed was probably infested as well, and he hadn't noticed.  He 
didn't like to think about it.

There was another roach crawling on the wall above the sinks. 
Julian shuddered.  He looked so wan, so fragile, so badly shaken, 
that Ben put both arms around him; it seemed like the natural 
thing to do.  The younger man leaned into him, pressed his face 
into his shoulder.  Sisko held him, patted his back comfortingly; 
he expected Julian to cry, but Julian didn't.  

"We're never going to get out of here, are we?" Bashir asked
after a minute.  "If the Defiant hasn't located us by now..."

"They may not know where to look," Sisko answered.  "We need to 
find some way of telling them where we are, in what time period.  
I've been thinking--maybe we can construct some sort of subspace 
beacon.  A homing device with a power source strong enough to 
survive for three centuries.  If the Defiant still exists in our 
own time, they'll pick up the signal.  They can trace it back to 
the date the beacon was activated, and they'll know where to find 
us."

Julian looked up, interested.  "It could work.  But how are we
going to build something like that?"

"First, we have to get hold of the right tools-" Ben began, when 
they heard the sound of someone approaching.  He released Julian
and they stepped away from each other as the door to the men's 
room swung open and others came in.  They went out.

~|!|~

They began to make plans.  Although there was little they could 
do while they lived in the shelter, the discussions about how 
to construct a homing beacon served two purposes: it gave them 
hope for their eventual rescue, and the intellectual exercise 
distracted them from their surroundings.  Sisko was relieved at 
how eagerly Bashir seized upon the project.  The young man's state 
of mind had been troubling him and he was glad to see Julian take
an interest in something again.  More than anything, he needed 
Bashir to hold himself together.  And, while he did all he could 
to see that Julian stayed sane, he found that the responsibility
of caring for his companion helped him to keep hold of _his_ 
sanity.  These wretched months would have been much more diffi-
cult to survive alone.

When a renovation project for the old district was launched that 
spring, workers were taken from among the former Sanctuary inmates.  
Sisko was among the first to be hired; because of his managerial 
ability, he was swiftly promoted to foreman of his own work crew.  
His name--with Bashir's appended for official purposes as "domestic 
partner"--went to the top of the waiting list for placement in the 
newly renovated buildings, and they were given one of the first 
available apartments.  

On the day they finally left the shelter, they went shopping 
for groceries and household necessities before they went to 
the restored townhouse.  Their apartment was up three flights 
of stairs; they entered it via a small kitchen at one end of 
a long hallway.  There was a bathroom at the other end of the 
hall, and two bedrooms, one on either side, the larger with 
windows that overlooked the high-walled yard at the back of 
the house.  The walls were painted a utilitarian white and 
the original wood floors had been repaired, or covered with a 
neutral-colored carpet where they were beyond recovery; the 
tile and fixtures in the kitchen and bathroom were new.  Sparse, 
cheap, but basic furnishings had been included: a kitchen table 
and two chairs, two narrow beds, and two squat chests of drawers.  
After the months in the shelter, it looked luxurious.

"Like a honeymoon suite on Risa," Julian declared after setting 
his shopping bags down on the kitchen table and taking a quick 
look around the other rooms.  "Sir-" 

"I've told you--you don't need to call me that.  You shouldn't
feel you have to anymore."

"All right." Julian smiled.  "Ben.  Do you mind if I disappear 
for awhile?"

"No," Ben answered, "go ahead.  I can handle this."

Julian dug through one of the bags to retrieve a newly purchased 
towel, washcloth, and a large bottle of pink bubble bath.  "I'll 
see you later," and he headed straight for the bathtub.

Ben put away the refrigerable foods, and started a stew to simmer on
the stove.  He moved his few belongings into the chest of drawers in 
one bedroom and put Bashir's in the other.  He was tucking in sheets
and a blanket on one of the beds when Julian emerged from the bath-
room, towel around his hips, skin bright like burnished copper, hair 
in damp curls.  

"You've been in there for more than an hour," Sisko informed him, 
teasing.

"I needed every minute of it," came the cheerful response.  "I 
haven't felt quite this clean or sane, or _human_ in months.  I'm 
going to burn those filthy rags I've been wearing, and get into 
something nice and new for dinner."  He lifted his nose to catch 
the spicy aroma emanating from the kitchen.  "What're we having?"

"_Real_ food, for a change.  My famous aubergine stew.  Fresh sour-
dough bread.  And I'm thinking of making a spinach salad.  That'll 
put the meat back on your bones."  His eyes ran over the young man's 
alarmingly thin frame.  "We could both stand to gain a little weight."

"I'll get dressed..." The doors to the bedrooms were directly across 
from each other; Julian looked from one to the other.  "Where did 
you put my things?"

"In there."  Ben waved.

"You gave me the bigger room?" 

"I thought you ought to have it.  Until you get a job, you'll be
spending more time here than I will," he explained.  "I want to 
see that you're comfortable and happy--After all, this is going 
to be our home...until we can get home."

Bashir regarded him with large and dewy eyes.  "Thank you," he said 
softly and, after a moment's hesitation, came into Sisko's room and 
sat down on the bed.  "I wanted to talk to you about something- ah- 
Ben.  I've been thinking about this for awhile, and I'll bet you 
have too.  Now that we have some privacy, it seems like a good time 
to bring it up."

"What is it?"

"Well," another hesitation, then a delicate question: "Are we 
going to go to bed together?"

"_What_?"

Julian flinched at this astonished yelp, but he went on quickly, 
"I knew you wouldn't say anything, so I thought I'd better make 
the first move."

Sisko stared at him, half in shock.  "What makes you think _I_ 
think about it?"

"Little things.  The way you hold me.  Even before we went to the 
shelter, those first nights when we had to sleep in the streets--I 
remember how you wrapped your arms around me."

"You were shivering.  I was trying to keep you warm."

"And that day in the men's washroom?"

Ben didn't know what to say.  True, he felt closer to Julian these 
past six months than he once would have thought possible.  He'd come 
to care a great deal for him, but if he said he loved the younger 
man, it was as a son, a surrogate for the child he'd been taken 
away from.  To think of Bashir sexually seemed almost incestuous.

He tried to convey these feelings to Bashir, who responded, "Maybe 
that's all it is for you, but I've found myself needing those hugs. 
Whenever I've been cold or miserable or frightened--and there hasn't 
been a moment since we came here that I haven't been one or another
--you've been there for me.  I don't know if I would have survived 
this without your strength.  I think I would like...more."  He got 
up.  "Don't say 'Yes' or 'No' right now--just think about it.  You 
know where I am."

Before Ben could reply, Julian retreated to his own room and shut 
the door.

~|!|~

They did not discuss it further.  Over dinner, they talked about 
subspace homing beacons; now that Sisko had unrestricted access 
to electronic equipment and tools, and they had a place to work, 
they could really begin to plan their rescue.  They considered the 
problems of creating a long-term power source.  Except for a few 
awkward pauses, when Ben lifted his eyes from his plate to find 
Julian watching him expectantly, it was as if that more personal 
conversation had never taken place.

Although they were much closer to achieving their goal, the day
when they would be able to return to their own time still re-
mained indefinite.  Until then, they had to carry on here.  But 
that prospect didn't seem as terrible as it once had.  They were 
beginning to grow used to living in the 21st century.   

Now that they had found a home and were making a place for them-
selves, they soon settled into daily routines.  While Ben was at 
work, Julian occupied himself by taking up the household chores--
except for the cooking, which was Sisko's established province.  
After the filthy conditions of the shelter, his diligence in 
keeping the apartment tidy approached obsession.

When he wasn't busy at the apartment, Bashir walked around the 
city--looking, he said, for signs of San Francisco as it would be 
in their own time.  He also went to public Net terminals to post 
messages to try and contact Dax.  Sometimes, he dropped by the 
site Sisko was working on to have lunch with him or so they could 
walk home together.  

They had very little money for non-essentials, but Julian bought 
inexpensive used books from shabby little shops he encountered 
on his travels.  Works of fiction as well as not-too-out-of-date 
electronics and medical texts--he stacked them on his bedroom 
floor until he found a battered, discarded bookshelf.  He read 
in the bathtub.  Ben knew he masturbated in the tub too; when he 
lay in bed late on weekend mornings, he could often hear soft 
moans under the rush of water on the other side of the wall.  He 
wondered how much time Julian spent bathing altogether; the young 
man always looked freshly washed and shaved, and usually smelled 
of bubble bath.

An unresolved tension still lingered between them.  After that 
conversation, Sisko avoided any physical contact.  Where he would 
have once offered Bashir a friendly pat or a comforting arm around 
his shoulders, he now held himself back.  He was self-conscious, 
and reluctant to do anything that Julian might misinterpret as 
encouragement.  He could see that the young man was hurt by his 
aloofness; Julian did not reproach him, but Ben often caught 
those large, sad eyes upon him.

When a medical center opened in the renovated district, Bashir 
submitted an application and was invited in for an interview. On 
his way back, he came by Sisko's work site.

"Ben!" he announced joyfully, leaping up the front steps of the 
building to find Sisko in the stripped-down foyer.  "I got the 
job!"  He would have given him a hug, but Sisko stepped back, 
aware that his work crew was watching them; they had seen Julian 
during his previous visits, and he knew they were curious about 
his young friend.  

Bashir ducked his head, but not before Sisko saw that sad look 
in his eyes and was immediately contrite.  

"So, you're going to be a doctor?" he asked.

"Medical assistant, actually," Julian answered, still stung 
by the rebuff.  "I couldn't produce proof that I'm licensed to 
practice in this country, but they said they were glad to get
anyone with basic medical knowledge and first-aid skills.  It's 
better than nothing, and maybe I can do something to improve the 
appalling state of health care for the people here."  He glanced 
around: A few of the crew were still obviously watching them; 
others had returned to their work and were pretending not to 
look.  "I can see you're- um- busy.  I'll tell you more about 
it tonight."  

As he turned to leave, Ben stopped him.  "Julian, wait.  Are you 
going home?"

"Eventually," Julian answered.  "I have to stop by the bank and
open an account."

"Why don't you pick up a few things for dinner too?  We ought to 
have something special, to celebrate your new job."  He also wanted 
to apologize for pulling back from what had only been an innocent 
gesture of enthusiasm.  "You don't have any money..."  He fumbled 
in his coverall pockets until he found a credit chit.  "Here--buy 
whatever you want, within reason."

That wounded look faded; at first, Julian was simply mollified by 
this attempt at conciliation, then he appeared to be amused.  With 
a small, impish smile and a spark of pure mischief in his eyes, he 
took the chit and said, "Thank you, dear."  Then he stretched up to 
bestow a perfectly wifely peck on the cheek before he walked out.

~|!|~

When Ben came home a few hours later, Julian was in the kitchen, 
crouched before the refrigerator as he put groceries away.

"Did you just get in?"

"I've been walking around, thinking," Bashir answered without 
turning to him.  "Ah- Ben, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about.  This isn't the Dark 
Ages.  San Francisco was one of the first North American cities 
in the 21st century to acknowledge the validity of same-sex 
relationships.  Even in the 20th century, this city was famous 
for its progressive attitudes."  The worst he had had to put 
up with after Julian's kiss were some good-natured, if raunchy, 
jokes.  "It doesn't matter what my crew thinks--The housing 
authority has us registered as 'partners,' so they already 
assumed we were a couple anyway."

"They aren't the only ones," Julian informed him.  "I've had a 
chance to talk to our neighbors.  Do you know, they all think 
we're married?  I've been told I have a very attractive husband.  
We look so domestic.  No one would guess the truth."  He slammed 
the refrigerator door shut. 

"Julian, I'm sorry that I've been so distant lately-" 

"No, it's not your fault."  He turned one of those mournful gazes 
up at Sisko.  "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything in the first 
place.  I just wanted- well- I need human contact, Ben, and you're 
the only one I can have that contact with.  You're all I have to 
hold onto in this world to make me feel safe and keep me sane.  
I thought that was what you wanted from me too.  You've said so 
a dozen times:  We have to keep to ourselves.  We have to stay 
together.  We have no one to depend on except each other."

"That wasn't what I meant."  

"I know--I was wrong.  I wanted us to be closer, and instead, 
this has come between us.  I've made you uncomfortable with me."

"Julian..."  

"It's all right.  I understand.  You don't see me that way."  He 
glanced up with a glimmer of curiosity.   "You never did think 
about it, did you?  I know there's never been a- ah- man in your 
life before."

"It's not just that."  Ben sat down in one of the kitchen chairs 
and tried to explain.  "Since I lost my wife, there hasn't been 
_anyone_.  I've gotten used to being alone.  It's been so long 
since I've felt that need for another person."  His eyes flickered 
over Bashir's face.  "I know your- um- needs are different.  I 
suppose this is nothing new for you?"

The younger man flashed a smile.  "You must have heard the stories 
that went around Quark's."

Ben had heard the stories.  There'd been gossip about the young 
doctor and Garak almost from their first days on the station and, 
more recently, pointed innuendo about all the time Bashir was 
spending with Chief O'Brien since Keiko had left for Bajor. While 
he had quashed the rumors whenever he'd heard them, he'd never 
settled the doubts in his own mind.  He'd felt that, as Bashir's 
commander, he ought to take the doctor aside for a serious talk 
about these inadvisable relationships...if he'd had any proof 
that they were really happening.  Julian had not named names, 
but was he suggesting that the stories were true?

Julian's next words seemed to answer the question.  "You wouldn't  
have to do anything you feel is...unusual," he said, watching Ben 
carefully as he took a seat in the other chair.  "If you'd be more 
comfortable having me the way you would a woman, that's how we can 
do this." 

"Is that how _you_ want it?" 

"It'd be okay."

Ben wondered how they had gotten from apologies to discussing this 
as a possibility.  He was sorry he had hurt Julian's feelings and 
wanted to make it up to him, but was he ready to go _that_ far?

Oddly enough, he was beginning to consider it.  In these past 
months, he had come to see Julian as someone he loved.  Would it 
be so difficult to accept him as a lover?

He thought of those chilly autumn nights before they had been sent 
to the shelter, when they had slept in alleyways and the pits of 
stairwells.  He remembered how they had curled close against each 
other for warmth and comfort, how protective he'd felt as he tried 
to shield that trembling body against the worst of the elements.  
Bashir was right about that: they only had each other to cling 
to in this miserable place.  Reluctant as he was to admit it, 
he needed that contact as much as Julian did.  He felt lonely 
sleeping by himself; his bedroom, small as it was, seemed too big 
and too empty.  While he was glad to be away from the crowded rows 
of cots, he missed having Julian nearby.

He could take Julian to bed, close his eyes and pretend that he 
was with someone else.  That would be easy enough to do, but it 
wouldn't be fair: Julian was asking for more than sex; he wanted
an emotional as well as a physical connection.  Ben couldn't give 
him that if he refused to acknowledge who he was.  

Could he give Julian what he wanted?

He was startled from his thoughts when Julian reached across the 
table to place one hand over his.  "I know this is a little strange 
for you," he said softly.  "It's strange for me too.  If we'd never 
left our own time and we weren't stuck here, this wouldn't have 
happened.  I would never have seen you as anything more than my 
commanding officer and the last in a long line of father-figures.  
But here we are.  You're not my commander now, and I am not your 
child.  And if that's all that's keeping us from the only kind of 
love we're going to find in this miserable place, then I think we 
have to let it go." 

"I wish I could."  Ben sighed.  "Let me think about it."

"That's all I ever asked."

Ben got up and left the kitchen.  

As he went into the bathroom to wash up for dinner, he noticed a 
small plastic bag left on top of the toilet tank.  He picked it up 
and opened it to find a few items Julian must have just purchased: 
antibacterial soap, new toothbrushes, and what he first mistook for 
a tube of toothpaste but, when he looked at the label, realized was 
lubricant.  

He took the package to his room and sat down on the bed as he
extracted the tube from its little cardboard box, turned it over 
in his hands, read the fine print on the back.  "Julian?"

>From the kitchen: "Yes?"

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Silence.  Then Bashir came to the bedroom doorway and saw that 
he had found the lubricant.  "If you do.  I- ah- wanted to be 
ready...just in case."

Sisko contemplated the young man in the doorway.   What would it 
be like to make love to him?  

And, suddenly, he had a vivid mental image: Julian in his arms, 
not as a shivering, miserable creature wrapped in layers of 
ragged and dirty clothes, but body bare against his, skin warm 
and soap-scented--and he felt a pulse of desire so intense that 
he had to take a deep breath before he could speak.

"All right," he said, "let's do it.  Are you finished with the 
groceries?"

"Just a few things-" Julian's eyes widened.  "Now?  Um- yeah.
Okay.  There's nothing in the kitchen that won't keep."  Somewhat
diffidently, he came to sit beside Ben on the bed and reached up 
to touch one cheek with his fingertips and draw his head down for 
a kiss.

Ben let Julian guide the way; after all, Julian had indicated that 
he'd been with other men and surely he knew what he wanted.  Once 
they were past the initial awkwardness, Julian took the lead with 
confidence; they helped each other undress, and he applied lubri-
cant to them both with swift, almost medical, efficiency.  It was 
not until they lay down on the narrow bed that he became passive, 
only bringing Ben to the right place and murmuring encouragingly,
"Go on.  Please, go on."

He gasped aloud at the first thrust; Ben felt the arms around him 
tighten.  Another tentative thrust brought a second cry.
 
"Julian, am I hurting you?"

"No," he lied obviously.  "It's all right."

"It's not all right."  And then, in a burst of comprehension, Ben 
understood; he quickly pulled away.  "Why didn't you _tell_ me?  
You've never done anything like this before, have you?"

Julian turned on his side, back to him.  "No," he admitted.

Ben stared at him in amazement, torn between conflicting impulses 
to scoop Julian up and comfort him, and to grab him by the shoulders 
and give him a good shaking.   How could Julian have deliberately 
kept the truth from him?  "Of all the stupid things to do- Julian,
_what_ were you thinking?"

"I wanted to make this easier for you," Julian answered.  "I could 
see how reluctant you were.  It would've scared you off if I'd 
told you that you'd be the first, so I let you think I had more 
experience with other men.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.  
I didn't think you'd guess."

"You certainly had me convinced."  He thought about Garak, about
O'Brien, and all those rumors that gone around DS9.  "I had no 
idea..."

Julian lifted his head and looked over his shoulder.  "You mean, 
you're really that surprised?"

"Not surprised, exactly.  Relieved."  Julian was beginning to look 
puzzled, and he explained, "I was afraid that you'd done something 
foolish."

"I have, haven't I?"  He let his head drop back to the pillow.  
"Ben, I'm sorry.  I've spoiled everything."

"No," Ben reassured him, and placed a tender kiss on Julian's bare 
shoulder.  He moved closer behind Julian to put one arm around him.  
"There's no reason we can't give this another try.  We just need to 
go a little more slowly..."  He reached across Julian to the tube 
of lubricant on the bureau and, using one hand, removed the cap and 
squeezed a generous amount onto two fingers.  He moved back enough 
to slip his hand between their bodies and very carefully inserted 
one finger, then the other.

Julian lay perfectly still during this application; he held his
breath and tried to relax, until the fingers brushed a sensitive
spot.  He cried out.

"Did that hurt?"

"N-no."  Julian worked his hips against the fingers inside him.  
"Please, don't stop."

Ben continued to rub gently until Julian was fully erect, moaning, 
writhing; he would reach his orgasm in another minute--but Ben 
couldn't let him yet.  

He withdrew his fingers. "I'm going to try now, all right?"

"Yes, all right," Julian assented, breathless against the pillow.  

Using his hand, he guided his erection into the opening he had 
stretched and lubricated.  Entry was easier this time; he slid 
in with only a few thrusts.  He was astonished by the warmth, 
the tightness, the slippery sensation.  It had been so long--He'd 
forgotten that sex could feel like this.

Julian groaned at the full penetration.  "Oh, god..."

He had turned from his side to face the mattress; Ben reached 
around under his hips to take his erect penis in his own still-
slick fingers and rub the glans with his thumb while making a 
series of little thrusts to try to find that sensitive spot again.  
When he hit it, Julian bucked wildly between the two points of 
stimulation and his cries grew more frantic.  

And Ben was moaning too, driving harder--only the fear of hurting 
Julian kept him from losing all restraint.  Then, too soon, there
was a simultaneous gush; for a confused moment, he thought that 
the wetness spilling onto his fingers was from his own body.

They lay together, panting, until Ben moved to disengage.  Julian 
turned over beneath him and flung both arms around him.  The kiss 
they shared was purely passionate, all hesitation forgotten, and 
when they spoke each other's names, it was an acknowledgment.

The bed was too narrow to let them move very far apart.  With 
some careful shifting, they wound around each other.  Ben pulled 
the blanket up over them, and, with Julian nestled against him, 
fell asleep.

~|!|~

When he woke, it was evening and the room was dark.  The hallway 
light was on.  Julian was gone, but he could hear the shower 
running.  Then the water stopped, and a few minutes later, Julian
emerged in rolling waves of steam, bright-skinned and damp, naked
except for a towel loosely around his waist.

The last time Ben had seen him this way, he had only observed how
painfully thin the boy looked.  Now, he realized just how beautiful
Julian was, and he wondered why he had never noticed before. 

"How many baths do you take every day?" he asked.

Bashir stopped in the doorway. "Two or three."

"You're paying the water bill, you know."

"The first credits in my new account are earmarked for it."  Smiling, 
he leaned on the doorjamb.  "I start on Monday morning, but we have 
the whole weekend free."

Two whole days.  Nothing to do but relax, sleep...and make love?  At 
the thought, Ben felt that stir of desire again.

"Ben, I've been thinking," said Julian.  "Now that I'm not going to 
be home all day, I don't need that big room to myself.  Why don't 
we move both beds into one room, push them together?  What do you 
think?"

"I think that's a very good idea.  One of your better ideas.  Let's 
do it tonight, after I get that special dinner I promised you.  
But, first..."  He gestured for Julian to join him; the younger man 
grinned, and came over.

They would go home one day.  Sisko had no doubt about it now, as 
he pulled Bashir, laughing, down onto the bed beside him.  He would 
return to Jake, to DS9, to the Federation they knew.  But while 
they waited for that day, they had found a measure of happiness 
here in the life they had made for themselves.  It was enough to 
see them through.

~|end|~

Kathryn Ramage                           kramage@erols.com
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"Welcome to the 21st century, Doctor."   
                        - Benjamin Sisko, "Past Tense" Pt. I