Author's Notes:

I'm a lifelong reader of fan fiction and this will be my third attempt at creating my own piece, I have officially caught the writing bug! Garashir continue to inspire me, both onscreen and through the wonderful fics on here already. This is my own little interpretation of the fake relationship story. I have challenged myself to keep this one shorter than my others and will be aiming for perhaps 4 chapters/10k words. This is set sometime around the middle of Season 6 (ish).

Please be kind, my writing is still in its early stages and I'm figuring it out as I go. Comments would be very much appreciated :)

(full disclosure: this was originally posted on AO3 but FanFiction has been a safe space for me literally forever so thought I'd better add it here too) x


Julian found himself sat alone in Quark's Bar, unusual behaviour for a weeknight but he'd had one hell of a day. It had seemed to be one thing after another: an accident here, a brawl there, another outbreak of Bajoran flu passing unheeded through the station's population. Nothing he wasn't equipped to handle, of course. Although, it had all been overshadowed by a particularly overbearing patient he'd had the misfortune of treating. Not that he would deny somebody much needed medical attention on account of their rudeness, no matter how sorely tempted he'd been at the time.

Julian downed the last of his Synthale and grimaced. He really should have forked out for the good stuff. But he was on duty first thing tomorrow and had to be up bright and early. As he went to stand, his ascent was stopped by an unwelcome clap to his back. Looking up, his composure was tested as he came face to face with the obnoxious Orion from the infirmary.

Julian cleared his throat and made an apologetic gesture with his hands. "I was just leaving..."

The Orion didn't relinquish his grip, his muscular green arm effectively had Bashir pinned in place. "Doctor Bashir, surely you would share a drink with me? I owe you that much for mending my broken wrist this afternoon."

Julian internally sighed. Dammit, he knew he should have gone straight home. He could be in his pyjamas right now in the comfort of his living room, pouring through his current book (another odd recommendation of Garak's that he was still getting to grips with). But no… he'd thought it would be better to have a solitary drink out in public instead of brooding alone in his quarters, and look where that had gotten him.

Gathering himself, he put on a suitably polite expression. "You don't owe me anything of the sort, it was all part of the service. But I really must be going. Maybe I'll see you around the station sometime, Mister...?"

"I am Masril the Unburdened, but Mas is fine. I am only here for a couple of days. Are you sure I can't persuade you to join me, Doctor? We could have a lot of fun together. Especially, now that I am back in full working order." Masril offered a winning smile and moved to sit at the Doctor's table, his hand switching from Bashir's back to wrap around his forearm instead.

Julian could admit that he was intrigued on some level. The man in front of him was quite the specimen. He was tall, strong, handsome, with the classic green skin and jet-black hair typical of most Orions. Mas was swarthy and exuded confidence; his appearance and attitude were reminiscent of the pirates that used to dominate Earth's oceans. Had Julian not already gotten the measure of the brute from his treatment of his medical staff, he could have indulged in a couple of drinks and perhaps even an ill-advised one-night stand with Masril. However, he had never been a fan of bullies. Also, truthfully, all he really wanted was to call it a night.

Julian wrenched himself free and took to his feet, trying to ignore the fact that his throbbing arm would likely be covered in small bruises come the morning. "Thank you for the offer, Mas. But I'm not interested."

As Julian left, he curtly nodded in Masril's direction and headed out onto the promenade. Relieved that his socialising for the day was finally over, he leisurely meandered through the late-night crowds as he made his way towards the staff quarters. He was happy to note that he still had time to fit in some reading before bed, he wanted to swot up before his lunch with Garak tomorrow. Alas, before he'd even had a chance to summon the turbolift, Julian was once again apprehended by the now familiar Orion. He had to supress the urge to huff in frustration as green fingers insistently dug into his shoulder. This guy really didn't know how to take a hint.

Julian allowed himself to be turned back towards Masril before he securely planted his feet, ready to stand his ground. Masril the Unburdened indeed, it was becoming apparent that the man wasn't burdened with an awareness of the wishes of others or with the concept 'no means no'. Frowning, he raised his voice and spoke sharply. "What on Earth are you doing? I thought I made myself perfectly clear."

Masril only chuckled at his reaction and leant into Bashir's personal space, forcing the Doctor to take a step backwards. He now had the slighter man effectively caught between himself and the bulkhead. "It is clear to me that you don't know what you'd be missing. If you did, you wouldn't have been so hasty in your dismissal. I can make this evening more than worth your while."

Julian did a quick scan of the area and concluded that he was on his own. Shit, why had he come around the back way? This section of the promenade, made up primarily of market stalls and shops, was now practically deserted. Admittedly, the quietness was a feature that he would usually relish after a busy day, but it was no good to him now.

Julian tried to shove Mas back, a futile endeavour as his hands met the immovable brick wall of muscles currently blocking his way. "No. What is clear is that you don't listen. Need I say it again? I. Am. Not. Interested! Now, please let me by and we can end this before things escalate any further."

Mas smiled predatorially. "Is that what you'd like Doctor Bashir? For this to escalate? I was under the impression that your kind were more interested in fighting. I am surprised that you would willingly waste your increased abilities being held back by Federation niceties and the Starfleet code of conduct. Surely, you need a partner who can match and challenge you. Aren't you bored having nothing but these weak humans and pathetic Bajorans to choose between?"

Julian raised an eyebrow; it was all starting to make sense. He was being fetishized, apparently. A novel concept as most people were put off by his genetic modifications. As far as he was aware, this was the first time he'd been actively pursued because of them. The whole scenario was demeaning. He wasn't some local delicacy or freak show attraction that visitors to the station were encouraged to sample. If that had become the case, it seemed that he'd missed a trick and would have to speak to Quark immediately. In fact, his questionable genes could be a real money spinner for the two of them! Providing, of course, that the Ferengi hadn't thought up and was already profiting from such a venture… at his expense. Hopefully Quark wasn't the one who had pointed Masril in his direction in the first place?

"Roll up, roll up, come and take a look at the Augment. We have several packages available from family friendly meet and greets in the communal areas, authentic medical assessment and treatments for the savvy shopper and for those seeking the personal touch and willing to put in the effort, why not arrange to spend the night with the Doctor and see for yourself just how superior those genetics really are?"

Alternatively, Julian could push for his own offensive musical jingle similar to the Come to Quark's digital campaign that had relentlessly plagued the station. He could almost hear it now;

See the Doc,

Meet Bashir.

Local Freak,

Augment. Queer!

Julian was getting angrier by the minute and channelled that energy into squaring up to the much taller and broader Mas, prodding him in the chest as he blew his top. "Listen here, Masril. For a start, I am proud to be human and still consider myself one of them. My friends and colleagues here on Deep Space 9 have a collective power that you couldn't begin to comprehend. Strength is not weighed by physical clout alone, you know. Going back to your offer, I am flattered that you would go to these lengths to seek out my 'illustrious' company. But, again, I couldn't be less interested. Now, if you would kindly fuck off? That would be great."

Masril moved quickly, grabbing Bashir's outstretched hand before twisting it. He manoeuvred the Doctor's arm up behind his back and forced him forward until his chest was pressed against the bulkhead. Standing behind Bashir, Mas used his weight to keep him still and ensured that he couldn't reach his comm badge to call for help. He bent down to whisper into the ear of his now captive audience. "That's more like it, Doctor. Shall we take this to the habit ring and continue this spirited discussion in private?"

A third man had been watching the scene unfold with interest and surmised that it was about time he drew this to its natural conclusion. The blundering oaf of an Orion was starting to irritate him, his actions so painfully overt and obvious that it was almost laughable. Honestly, trying to provoke the good Doctor in such a way was hardly going to be successful. You only had to spend a minute in Bashir's company to see that he responded best to a gentler approach.

Garak stepped out of the shadows and lazily made his way over to the pair of them, his blade stealthily retrieved and palmed safely in his hand. Pressing the sharp tip into the delicate and vulnerable neck of the Orion, he made his presence known. His normally silky voice was still measured and controlled but had a discernible edge to it. "Enough! I believe the good Doctor has been more than straightforward in articulating his disinterest. Why don't you do us both a favour and, what was the colourful expression, ah yes; kindly fuck off?"

Masril could sense malicious intent from a mile off. He also had an uncanny ability to weigh up and identify an opponent's prowess with their chosen weapon. Whoever this Cardassian was, he carried himself with the swagger of his species but in a more subdued and self-assured way. Probably an Obsidian Order agent or an assassin of some sort. He would bet that this man knew all too well how to wield the knife in his hand and that, if it came to it, he would be a threat even whilst unarmed. Mas was in no doubt that the newcomer had taken down greater foes than himself. So, this was the reason Bashir wouldn't consider him? He apparently already had somebody in his life who could keep up with and fulfil his more primal urges.

Mas stepped away from Bashir and held up his hands. "Us? You and the Doctor have claim over one another?"

Garak eyed Bashir briefly and made the decision for him, edging closer to the Doctor and baring his teeth. "Yes, obviously. Doctor Bashir is MINE. And has been for many years. So, you are too late I'm afraid. He is no longer on the market. And I must say, I don't appreciate you trying to forcefully insert yourself between us. Although, I can't blame you for seeing his potential." Garak paused and caught the Doctor's eye before returning his attention to the large Orion. "I hereby consider the matter closed. That is, unless you wish to challenge me further? Something I wouldn't personally recommend, but I am more than ready to spill blood for s'h'iosr'halin here. So, the choice is yours."

Julian felt his cheeks warm at Garak's protectiveness. He had been both thrilled and relieved as the Cardassian had come to his defence. He took Garak's closest hand within his own, squeezing it gently in a way that he hoped would convey his approval and how thankful he was.

Julian's mood improved dramatically as he felt Garak return the gesture and firmly grip his hand. Filled with renewed confidence, he righted himself and gave Masril a sympathetic shake of the head. "I wouldn't recommend it either, Mas. My partner Garak is a well-seasoned, cunning, and deadly opponent. He does me great honour by granting my continued position at his side."

Garak knew that the Doctor was just playing along, but he couldn't deny that it felt good to be so fondly referred to by the young man. The unfamiliar praise had him standing a little taller and made him feel (if possible) even more personally invested in ensuring Bashir's safety and wellbeing.

Masril eyed the pair suspiciously. "Nobody mentioned the existence of such an understanding between the two of you. Also, given the strength of your bond, why was Doctor Bashir out drinking alone tonight?"

Garak felt Bashir shift nervously at his side and, without hesitation, swooped in and elaborated with practised ease. "Not that it is really ANY of your business how we conduct ourselves, but I was planning to meet the Doctor in Quark's and would have done so had I not been waylaid on a business matter. We are hardly joined at the hip. To clarify, I do not own him. We do things differently around here than what you may be accustomed to. Slavery has long since been out of fashion. It went the way of cropped flares. Also, you can surely appreciate the delicate nature of a same sex, cross species relationship between fringe members of two fundamentally different and currently warring empires. We are not at liberty to be as openly affectionate as we'd like, but I daresay we make good use of the time that we have. Speaking of which, I have indulged you long enough."

Garak turned towards the Doctor and jauntily offered his arm. "My Dear, shall we retire for the night?"

Julian beamed at Garak; the man was so incredibly impressive under pressure. He delivered their tragic tale of star-crossed love as though he truly believed in it himself. Hell, he even had him going for a minute. Hooking Garak's elbow, he cheerfully bid Mas goodnight and walked arm in arm with his dear friend as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Which, in a way, it was.


Author's Notes:

post/118714639413/im-wondering-if-there-are-any-cardassian-terns-of

s'h'iosr'halin = my dear doctor