A/N: I was watching Deep Space Nine and this just popped into my head. One shot Esre Worf romance. Nothing tawdry, just a little sweet.
He looked at her from afar, a small spotted speck lounging at Quark's bar. She was laughing, surrounded by a group of her peers: Docter Bashier, Miles, and a few other crew members who patted her on the back and laughed with her. He tried not to wince as her hand momentaraly touched Julians. A small, unthingking jesture that sent stabbes of pain through his chest.
The Ferengee bartender didn't bother to ask what he wanted, just one look from Warf was signal enough for Quark to forgo the usual glass of prune juice and to have a gloss of bloodwine ready. Eager to drown his pain, Worf gulped down the first glass fast.
"Another," He grumbled, looking Quark in the eye, dareing him to object. But Quark was too smart to try and keep a Klingon from his bloodwine. This ritual, going to a bar to drown sorrows, may have been aproprate for the weak will of humans and lesser races, but not for a Klingon. Warf knew his personal honnor slipped from him little by little every time he drank the wine in responce to loss and sorrow, rather than celebration in times of war. Pity was not an emotion worthy of honor.
But he still made the journey three times a month since the death of his wife. He could still see Junziah's smiling face, the way her laughter echoed in the room, the way she found the joke in each situation. He could also remember the Klingon side of Judzia: The bloodlust for battle, the taste for the culture, the way she felt no need to back down from any challange. He missed her dearly, and the months that followed held little comfort to him.
And the she had to come along.
The perky, plucky, confused, babbiling Trill carrying the Dax symbyote. She insisted that Worf spoke to her, that they resolved matters, but Warf had no desire to do so. If Judzia could not return to him completly, then he'd rather she not return to him at all. At least thats how he felt at first.
And then the situation with the Bree. The night before they were captured, they had made love. Worf tried to assure her, and himself, that it was an unhonorable, unspiritual act. An impulse of the flesh. He said those lies because she cried out Julians name in the prossess of interogation. She had not ment to say it, but she said that she loved Julian. Just another stab of pain.
After their escape from the Dominion, they agreed to just be friends. When she wanted to confront Julian about her fealing towards him, she saught Worf's advice. Worf just wanted her to be happy. And she was indeed happy.
Wrf took a long swig from his glass and looked up at her table and was surprised to see her looking back at him, concern touched her face briefly. Worf turned away and paid the bartended for his drink. He stood and made his way out of the bar, knowing that look Esre had on her face too well. He didn't want her concern, that wasn't enough for him. What he wanted was her passion, her love. He wanted his name to be on her lips, his fingers longed to caress her.
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind.
He entered the warmth of his quarters in the hopes of some comfort, but he wasn't there long before he heard the door open. Esre Dax entered his room with the same air of possession Judzia had, as if these quarters belonged to her. She spotted him as he sat ridgedly on the sofa. He would have spewed off some note of the intrusion being voilation of some Star Fleet protocal but he couldent form the words. Esre had the same effect on him that Judzia had. She took his breath away.
Esra smiled softly and took her place next to him, "Sorry for the intrusion. Judzia had the passcode memorized. Can we talk?"
"Of course, what do you need?"
She looked nervous, an emotion to which she is very familiar. She placed a tentive hand on his leg and his heart stared to race. He fought the urge to rip off her clothes and ravish her. "I just spoke with Julian... about how I felt"
"Oh," was all He could muster, but Warf had this sinking sensation in his gut. He was going to loose her again.
Esre sighed and shook her head, "he wasn't intrested in anything long-term, He'd just gotten out of a bad relationship with another Trill. I guess the spotts aren't to his taste anymore."
"Then he is a fool for letting you go, I told you that you deserved better than him." Warf tried to sound as impartial as he could, to look at this point of view as a friend would.
Her smile shook his will.
"Thank you, Worf. Gosh, this is embarrasing. I'm sorry I had to lay that on you, you must have better things to think about."
Worf mustered up some Klingon courage, "You can talk to me any time, Esre. I am here for you."
"I know," she whispered. She stood up and moved towards the door. Then she paused just for a moment and turned to face Worf once more, "That night, after we escaped, you told me the passion we had between us ment nothing to you."
"I did," Worf kept his voice calm, he didn't want his regret to show on his face.
"Well that night ment somthing to me. Not just because I remembered how you were when we were married," She sighed, her face flushed in embarrasment, "As Esre, I think I have feelings for you. As Esre the time I spent with you, even in the hands of the Dominion, brought up somthing inside of me that I didn't even know I had."
Worf stood to. This young Trill poured her heart out to him, he yerned to pull her into his arms. A brief moment of silence filled the room. She looked at him, tears streaming freely down her face.
"You would like to know if I was untruthful. About my feelings. You are right to think so. The only thing I coud think about was you, Esre. Seeing you with Bashiir..." Worf couldn't go on, the pain broke through his tough shell.
"Worf, " Esre whispered. She ran to him and he embraced her. He kissed her with a passion only a Klingon could posses and they both felt a spark Worf thought was long lost, and they picked up right were they left off.
