Author's Notes:
I'm a lifelong reader of fan fiction and this will be my fourth attempt at creating my own piece, I have officially caught the writing bug and can't see it stopping anytime soon! Garashir continue to inspire me, both onscreen and through the lovely fics on here already. This is a light-hearted Christmas story that I'm putting together to get me into a more festive mood (hard work with everything that's going on right now!).
Please be kind, my writing is still in its early stages and I'm essentially figuring it out as I go. As always, comments would be very much appreciated :) Happy Holidays!
(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
After several hours spent idly twiddling his thumbs, Garak conceded defeat and shut his shop early. The promenade was officially deserted. Not wanting the entire working day to have been a waste, he began to sort through his growing pile of old stock. There was some sort of festival that the Starfleet staff were celebrating, and the holiday had been enthusiastically adopted by all of the station's residents. This wave of good cheer had been helped, in no small part, by Quark peddling "traditional" yuletide cocktails and the like. Most of the shops and restaurants had jumped on the bandwagon and had garishly decorated their exteriors, you couldn't move for strings of multicoloured lights and reflective trimmings. As someone who found the station too bright at the best of times, he felt even more significantly unwelcome and out of place.
Garak had initially scoffed at the idea of engaging in the celebration himself, but as his flow of customers had dwindled, he considered that he shouldn't have been so quick in his dismissal. There could have been opportunities for producing specific clothing for this holiday. He'd certainly seen a few odd-looking articles of dress around the promenade. It seemed a shame for people to be using the replicators when he could make higher quality and personalised items on demand. He was flexible and could easily accommodate most requests, whether that be for gifts or new outfits to mark the occasion. Ah well. Sighing to himself, he concluded that there was always next year. It wasn't as though he was going anywhere any time soon.
An unexpected ring of his door chime drew Garak away from his tidying. Odd, he didn't have any current projects that were due to be collected and the shop was clearly closed. Grumbling about ridiculous customers as he got to his feet, Garak crossed the shopfloor and opened the door. He was surprised to be greeted by a radiantly smiling Doctor Bashir, a much more pleasant visitor than the frantic last-minute shopper he'd assumed was knocking. The young man in front of him looked to be getting into the holiday spirit; it was the first time he'd seen Bashir this enthused since they'd escaped from the Dominion prison camp.
Julian beamed as he caught sight of his favourite Tailor, glad that he'd tracked him down at last. "Garak! Still hard at work I see! I was hoping that I'd find you here⦠Although, I actually went to your quarters first. Rookie mistake. I should have known better really, given the early hour... Can I come in?"
Garak stepped back graciously to allow Bashir entry to his premises. "Of course, my Dear. Please excuse the mess, I'm in the middle of a rather necessary purge. Fashion waits for no man."
As they moved into the better lit area towards the back of the shop, Garak frowned at the monstrosity that the Doctor was wearing. What an obnoxiously patterned jumper. The bright red eyesore was definitely the worst thing he'd ever seen Bashir in. Which, given his normally outlandish apparel, was truly saying something. Tilting his head, Garak considered that the Doctor had never come to him for fashion advice before, but there was a first time for everything. "Was there something I can do for you?"
Julian turned around and grinned as he caught the unimpressed grimace on Garak's face at his outfit choice. "Don't you have anything to say about this? Rather fetching, isn't it?"
Garak put a hand to his chest as though personally insulted at the suggestion. "Fetching? Why, yes! Have a bucket fetched at once, Doctor! I feel nauseous just looking at you. Who knows how much longer I can tolerate those clashing colours in my direct line of sight? Thank goodness you're a trained medical professional who won't blanch at the inevitable and oncoming slew of vomit, or I'd be embarrassed and worried about making a mess. Expelling my lunch isn't exactly the clear-out I had planned for today, but one must always be prepared. Oh, there's no need to flee to a safe distance; the contents of my stomach can only improve your jumper. That knitwear is honestly the ugliest garment I've ever had the misfortune of seeing. Although, I should have learned by now to expect nothing less from somebody with such an acute absence of good taste. Tell me, was the matching fur hat really necessary?"
Julian nodded seriously, causing the pom-pom on the end of his Santa hat to swing back and forth. "More than necessary. Vital, even."
Garak shook his head. "Then there's truly nothing that can be done for you, Doctor. By me or anyone else, I'm afraid. My meagre skills pale in comparison to your efforts to gather together the worst clothes in the quadrant. Quite the achievement, I might add. Did you come in here, donned in that ensemble, for the sole purpose of upsetting my equilibrium and disrupting the aesthetic ambiance of my shop?"
Julian laughed; Garak had some odd notions sometimes and more than a flair for the dramatic. Although, if he was being honest, he had known full well that his jumper would cause a reaction from the stylish Cardassian. He'd been looking forward to this very moment since he'd gotten dressed that morning. "I give up. You've seen right though my scheme and caught me red handed."
Garak raised a ridge. "Red handed? Surely there's no more of that ill-suited colour to be applied to your person? If you are seeking a pair of matching gloves, then you can take your custom elsewhere. I won't be responsible for worsening this situation, it's already gone far enough."
Julian rolled his eyes; Garak knew the phrase 'red handed' perfectly well but it suited him to play dumb in order to insult him further. "Yes, well, if you're quite finished...?"
Garak raised his hands in mock surrender. He enjoyed arguing with the good Doctor far too much but agreed that it was time to dial things back a notch.
Julian's bright smile returned in full force, and he moved to lean casually against the shop's counter. He tried to mask his nervous anticipation for what he was about to do and took a deep breath, running his fingers absent-mindedly along Garak's fabric swatches. "Are you doing anything tonight? It's Christmas Eve, you see, and I thought you might want to come along to the holosuite with me? Quark's been running several of the best 20th Century Christmas films all day, and one of my favourites is coming up later. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Or, at least, you'll enjoy pointing out what's wrong with it. I've re-watched it every year for as long as I can remember, it's become something of a tradition."
Garak was genuinely taken aback. The Doctor wanted to include him, of all people, in this cheery holiday of his? "I'm not sure that would be the best idea, I am not familiar with this celebration and wouldn't want to intrude on something so personal."
Julian nodded in understanding, eyes softening. "Is it being crammed in with other people that you object to? Or does watching an antiquated form of Earth entertainment not appeal?"
Garak was interested in films and liked the idea of losing himself in an alternate world for a few hours. It was one of the reasons why he was such an avid reader in his spare time, the wide-ranging stories offered him an escape from the mundane day to day. Cardassia had a similar visual performance art that was shown in theatres, mainly frequented by the richest and most powerful citizens of the Union. Garak had never been able to take in a show but had always been curious about what it would be like. Such frivolous luxuries had been strongly discouraged within Tain's household.
Garak began to feel uncomfortable at the continued scrutiny and compassion in Bashir's gaze. He didn't want the Doctor knowing that he couldn't face the inevitable disapproving looks that he would receive by attending this event. The constant negative attention was easy enough to ignore (most of the time) but with the newfound jovial mood across the station, the stark contrast was jarring and affected him more than he would care to admit. Also, he wouldn't want to spoil Bashir's evening. It would be unbearable to witness people treating the Doctor differently simply because of their association. They drew enough scorn with their regular lunches. Garak could only imagine how the tension could escalate if they showed up to the holosuite together.
Garak swallowed down his disappointment at missing such a rare opportunity and quietly explained his misgivings. "I'm not sure I could give the film the attention it deserves whilst sitting in the midst of a large crowd of people. Cinema audiences tend to be quite narrowly boxed in together, don't they?"
Julian felt lighter at the admission. It was Garak's Claustrophobia that was the issue then, not the activity itself. His friend's composure had been badly shaken during their incarceration. He kicked himself for not realising that his fears hadn't fully abated and were still causing problems. Garak had (naturally) kept things to himself and hadn't sought any help. As far as he knew, anyway. Julian made a mental note to double check the infirmary's inventory when he next had the chance, although he hadn't noticed any warning signs and fervently hoped Garak wasn't heading back down the slippery slope of self-medication.
Nodding, Julian stilled before he caught Garak's eye as inspiration struck. "I have an idea! How would you feel about watching the film on a small screen in my quarters instead? It won't be quite the same, but we can have it as loud as we want and I'm sure the replicators have the pattern for cinema-style popcorn."
Garak looked into the hopeful eyes of his dear companion and found himself unable to refuse, despite his guilt that he was holding the Doctor back. Bashir had a soft heart and couldn't help but put others before himself. He certainly didn't want the Doctor's pity, nor was he comfortable with the young man altering his plans solely on his behalf. Was this just another example of his empathetic nature? To test his theory, Garak cautiously offered Bashir an out. "There's no need to worry about me, Doctor. Be honest. I understand that you'd be disappointed to miss the shared experience of sitting in the audience with your friends. You would have me believe that you really wouldn't mind?"
Julian raised his brows at the question. It was pointless to argue that Garak was his friend, and the invitation alone was a clear sign that his company was sought. He didn't want to spend his time with anyone else and would be crushed if Garak turned him down. Julian tried to keep his tone light, not wanting to come across as desperate and needy as he internally felt. "I willbe sharing the experience. Plus, this way, I have the option to pause it as we go. So, if there's anything that you don't follow or want to ask me, you can do so without worrying about disturbing other people."
Garak quirked his lip. "Well then, if you absolutely insist upon it, my Dear. I would be delighted to see this festive film of yours and share my thoughts and critiques. Should it fail to meet my standards, that is." Garak hesitated and cast a worried look down at the Doctor's jumper. "I take it, there's not a strict dress code that I need to adhere to in order to participate?"
Julian smirked, delighted and immensely relieved that Garak had agreed to join him. He leaned in towards his friend and lay a comforting hand on his arm, squeezing him fondly. "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure I can find something suitable in my wardrobe."
At Garak's aghast look, Julian bit back a childish chuckle before swiftly making for the exit. He shouted back over his shoulder towards his mortified friend. "See you later Garak! Call round mine any time after 1900 hours."
