I was asked if I was going to write any more of the Puffeskins story, and I don't usually write more than one chapter, but I thought I'd try and write another to see what it turned out like. Here's Part Two of Puffeskins and Puffy Skin:

...

Chief O'Brien whistled as he repaired the replicator in Captain Sisko's quarters on board the Defiant. It was the end of the day, almost a week after the "tribble" incident, and Miles felt much better.

"Ah, Chief," Captain Sisko said as he entered the room. "How are you doing?"

"Almost done here," Miles said, and pressed a button on one of his gizmos. "There," he announced, as the replicator powered up. "Finished."

"Good work, Chief," Sisko said, as Miles began to pack up his tools. "Are you feeling alright? Keiko told me that you had an allergic reaction to something you ate?"

"That's right," said Miles quickly. "Can I go now?"

"Yes, you may. Thank you, Chief." Miles left the Captain's quarters, and sighed with relief.

* * *

The sound of the spin of the Dabo wheels and the drunken cries of laughter from Quark's seeped out into the Promenade on the busy Saturday night. Visitors and residents of the station in multicoloured clothes walked by, basking in the freedom of the their leisure time. Only one glum face spoiled the overall good mood.

George Weasley sat hunched up on a corner of the Promenade, his ancient-looking rucksack resting beside him. Two giggling Bajorans staggered past the man, laughing at the hole in the side of his head. The bag next to the young man attempted to copy the noise, and George brought his fist down onto it sharply. It made a noise like air escaping from a balloon.

"Oh, shut up," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" came the slow, sarcastic voice of the station's Chief of Security. Odo looked down at the miserable figure with disgust. "What are you doing down there?" George glanced up at the Constable in the thick, beige uniform, and scowled.

"What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're either sulking, or hiding," Odo replied. "Didn't I see you arrive off that transport craft on Sunday evening?"

"So what if I did?" George retorted. "I've got every right to be here."

"That depends," Odo said. "You look as though you've been living rough." He held out a hand to the man. George took it, and stood up.

"I suppose you want me to leave, then," he grumbled, as he picked up the rucksack and put it onto his back.

"Actually, we do have a policy that states visitors travelling without a -" Odo began, but a voice interrupted him.

"George! Are you OK?" Doctor Bashir emerged from Quark's, a racquetball racquet in his hand.

"Oh, hey...whatever your name is," George replied indifferently. "Julius or something, right?"

"Julian," the doctor corrected him with a smile. "Odo, you're not arresting him, are you?"

"No." Odo frowned. "Should I be?" Julian looked at George.

"Why don't we talk for a bit? You look like you need a friend." George returned the look, gratefully.

"Yeah, OK. Bye, Oh Doh." He followed Doctor Bashir across the Promenade. Odo rolled his eyes.

"Humanoids..."

* * *

Worf and Miles stepped onto the Promenade, Miles having just finished the Defiant's maintenance checks and Worf leaving his full-time quarters for an evening out.

"I still do not understand your obsession with holosuite battle programmes where you have no chance of winning," Worf said. Miles laughed.

"Don't worry, Worf – it's just a theme that Julian and I specialise in."

"Talking of Doctor Bashir," Worf said, as they escaped the noisiest part of the Promenade and slowed down. "Isn't that his racquet?"

Miles looked down where Worf was pointing. "Yeah, it is." He bent down, and picked it up. "Do you want to wait for me at Quark's? I'll go and give this to him."

"I'll come with you," Worf insisted, but Miles shook his head.

"Nah, go on. It won't take long." Worf frowned momentarily, but acknowledged Miles' request, and walked back towards the Promenade.

Chief O'Brien remained stationary until he was sure Worf was out of sight, and then turned right and walked into one of the corridors leading off the Promenade. It was deserted. He took a quick look behind him to see if he was being watched, and then pulled back a panel in the wall. A red light blinked back at the Chief, and he smirked.

He tapped two buttons in the left hand corner of the hollowed out section. Just before he pressed a third, he thought that the doctor was taking a bit of a risk, leaving his racquet just outside the hidden room.

Sure, Chief O'Brien knew he was there, but he didn't know how many other people knew about the roomy storage locker he'd discovered about a year ago. He'd told Julian, obviously – they had used it once or twice together when the holosuites were fully booked, but secrets were never safe on DS9, especially not when Garak and Odo were around.

He pressed the third button, and a door swung open. Miles stepped inside, and shut the door behind him. His mouth opened in fury as he saw Julian and George locked in a gentle, but strong kiss, arms around each other's waists.

"You bastard," he growled, and the two broke apart.

"Miles, it's not what you think -" Julian started to say, but the Chief yelled at him.

"You made me cheat on my wife for you! Hanging around in Ops, flirting with me, taking me to holosuites every weekend, telling me you love me – and then you go and do this! You've ruined my life!"

George burst into tears. Julian looked at Miles with disgust.

"The kid was upset, Miles! He's lost his twin brother, his business, half his friends – and you accuse me of ruining your life, just because I comforted him? You're so ashamed that you're bisexual, you can't see that there are others out there like you, who are lonely and hurt."

Miles sighed. "I'm sorry, Julian. I guess I was jealous."

"You guess? Miles, you were the one who was avoiding me, of course you were jealous," Julian replied, not nastily, but correctly. "Say sorry to George as well."

Miles looked at George, whose eyes were red and puffy. "Sorry, George."

"That's OK." George sniffed. "I copied Fred for so long, I became like a copy of him. I forgot that twins were two separate people, and now he's gone, I'm finally beginning to be myself." He stood up, shakily.

Chief O'Brien took his arm, and Doctor Bashir took the other. They climbed out of the storage cupboard, and the Chief shut the door.

"Don't tell anyone about this, will you?" he asked George. George smiled weakly.

"The cupboard, or your relationship?"

"Both!" said Julian.

"It's OK," George replied. "I'm going home on the next transport. I'll be back on Earth in the past before you can say 'racquetball'."

"Won't you need your bag?" Chief O'Brien inquired.

"No," George grinned, his long-gone happiness returning. "I left it under that Security Chief's desk. All it had in it was...Well, let's just hope that he's not allergic to fluff..."