Author's Note: This was originally posted on ao3 under the_last_dillards. My complete catalog of fics can be found there.
Miles worked with his usual diligence, mind completely focused on fixing the problem at hand as he kneeled, body half inside an Ops computer. And so he didn't notice them until he turned to reach for a spanner.
Knees. Scaly grey knees. Right at eye level.
He recoiled, hitting his head with a thump.
"Jesus Christ, Garak! What the bloody hell are you wearing?"
Miles crawled out to stand eye to eye with the Cardassian and took in the sight before him.
Garak was wearing a skirt.
No, wait, not a skirt. A skant. A goddamn yellow regulation skant.
It bared more scale than Miles had ever wanted to see on a Cardassian. Arms, legs, tail, all of it. And to make matters worse, Garak wore it snug as a bug. Miles supposed he ought be grateful that Garak had at least opted for the knee high boots instead of the ankle ones. He really didn't want to see his calves.
That little outburst got the attention of everyone else in Ops, curious eyes turning to look. Garak sent a benign smile around, challenging stares with his own until they looked away before turning back to Miles.
"Well, as it turns out, I am now required to wear a uniform on duty. Admiral Bennett complained to the Captain after our meeting yesterday."
Miles crossed his arms. "Yeah, but you're not Starfleet."
"Ah, but I am a private contractor in their employ."
"That can't be right! I work with contractors all the time and no one makes them wear one. You're making this up. You have some kind of scheme going on here."
What sort of scheme required Garak to go running around in a Starfleet skant of all things was beyond Miles' imagination. Hell, maybe this was it. Distract Miles from finishing his work by causing a ruckus.
Garak smiled innocently.
"Ah, if only that were the case. Unfortunately if I were on loan from another organization, as are likely most of the contractors you're familiar with, I would be permitted to dress by their uniform code. I tried to argue that I am on loan—from Garak's Clothiers of course—but they wouldn't accept it."
"Okay, say that's true. Why're you wearing a skant?"
It wasn't that Miles had anything against skants or men wearing them; On the Enterprise there was a good number of the crew who preferred them (including the first officer on occasion), but they were all human or at least human enough. They weren't Cardassians and they weren't Garak.
He couldn't get the image of his knees out of his head. In all the years they'd been acquainted, he didn't think he'd ever seen him bare quite as much skin as he was right then.
Garak reiterated with a trace of smugness in his voice, "If you had been listening, I am required to be in Starfleet uniform. This is a Starfleet uniform."
"Yeah, but a skant?"
"I'm hardly doing field operations or a job with hazardous materials. There's no regulations against it."
Just then the doors to the Captain's office slid open. Julian shuffled out, looking morose before he caught sight of the two of them and his face lifted. He went down to greet them.
There was a small maze of computers and stairs between them, so it was only after rounding a console that Julian could see the entirety of Garak. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening comically.
Oh. That was why Garak had chosen the skant.
It seemed like Julian's brain had gone on hold, the poor bastard. His eyes darted up and down, taking in Garak's new look, mouth hanging open to catch flies.
"Hello, Doctor," Garak said.
Julian was brought back to the real world. He moved towards them in a rush.
"Garak! I—You—You're wearing, uh—You look lovely!"
Garak bowed graciously. "Thank you, my dear."
Julian was standing much too close to Garak for Miles' comfort right now. He needed to break this up before they started getting handsy.
"Julian, tell your man here that he can't be going around wearing a Starfleet uniform if he's not Starfleet."
Julian turned towards him. "I thought that contractors had to—"
"Oh, not you too!" Miles crossed his arms. "Fine, but he could be wearing, y'know, trousers? No one wants to see that much leg on him."
Garak scoffed. "It happens to be the most visually appealing of the uniform options Starfleet gave me."
"I thought you're supposed to be cold all the time?" Miles tried.
"Yes, well, Starfleet has special linings available to accommodate those from warmer climates. I am quite toasty at the moment actually. But I do appreciate your concern. Especially considering that you haven't yet gotten around to fixing the environmental controls in my quarters."
"Hey now! I'll have you know that this bloody Cardassian station—!"
Sisko's smooth voice interrupted, "Is everything okay here, gentlemen?"
The Captain stood on the other side of the console with an eyebrow raised and Dax standing behind him. She looked far too amused by the situation for anyone's good.
"Yes, sir. We were just having a bit of a disagreement," Miles answered.
"Oh? What about?"
"Well, Garak's wearing a Starfleet uniform, sir."
Sisko sighed and rubbed a temple. "You're going to be seeing Mr Garak in uniform a lot more often from now on, Chief. Admiral Bennett's orders. All contractors must wear a uniform. And if they don't have their own..."
"They'll wear Starfleet's. Yeah, I'm getting that."
Garak beamed triumphantly.
Jadzia had slowly drifted around the side of the console during the conversation until she stood just behind Julian's shoulder. She leaned in. "Looking good, Garak. Don't you think so, Julian?"
Julian sputtered, looking between the two and going hot at the tips of his ears. "Well, he's, I suppose, from a purely factual point of view—"
Sisko crossed his arms. "I hope you don't intend to cause any distractions, Mr Garak."
"Am I distracting, Captain?" Garak looked very pleased with himself indeed.
"We both know it's not exactly typical for a Cardassian to wear anything that doesn't cover them wrist to ankle."
"Well, it seems to me your experience with Cardassians has been limited to what takes place on this particularly cold station. Clearly, you've never met anyone from the Poldak Peninsula." He leaned in conspiratorially and made eye contact with Julian. "Nudists. All of them."
Cardassian nudists wasn't something Miles ever wanted to have to think about again. At least his reaction wasn't anything like poor Julian's, who gaped like a fish.
"I'm not interested in the customs of the people from the Poldak Peninsula, Mr Garak. I'm interested in making sure you're not looking to start any trouble by causing a scene."
Garak sighed. "I'm afraid wearing this version of the Starfleet uniform is the only way I can avoid a scene. There is a reason you'll only ever see my people wearing skirts and tunics."
"Care to elaborate?"
"If I must." His tail swung in agitation. "In Cardassian culture, the base of the tail is considered extremely obscene. No one should ever get a clear view of where it connects except in the most intimate of occasions. Do you know what Starfleet's version of their jumpsuit uniform is for Cardassians? A hole. Cut in the back. Can you believe! So clearly this so-called skant uniform, revealing as it may be, is the lesser of the two evils."
Garak paused for a moment to calm down. He added, "Besides, I like to think I pull it off nicely."
Sisko nodded thoughtfully. "I see. I'll talk to Command about issuing a revised version."
Garak brushed it off with the wave of a hand. "Oh, I wouldn't rush on it, Captain. I'm sure all the gawking will die down within a couple days."
Miles didn't doubt that claim. What he did doubt was Julian's ability to function as their Chief Medical Officer in the meantime.
Sisko put his hands on his hips. "Now, is it safe to assume you're in Ops to give a report on those transmissions and not to start a fight with the Chief?"
"Of course. I have them right here." Garak gestured to a padd in his hand.
Sisko nodded at the group. "Gentlemen. Old Man."
Garak followed him as the two separated off and made their way to the Captain's office. His voice could be heard fading into the distance, "You know, Captain, I do think the poor Chief has an unfortunate fixation on me. I came in here today and was immediately verbally accosted by..."
Miles rolled his eyes. Damn Cardie probably meant for him to hear that in order to start another fight. Best to ignore it.
So instead he said to his remaining companions, "Well, I'm just about at the end of my shift anyways. You two wanna go grab a pint?" He certainly needed one.
He turned to Jadzia and Julian only to find neither of them paying attention. They were both still watching the retreating figures of Captain Sisko and Garak, eyes glued lower than they had any right to be.
"Hey! You two!" He snapped a hand in front of their faces.
"What?"
"Oh, yeah. Yeah?"
"A pint at Quark's? You wanna go?"
Jadzia shook her head. "Can't. I still need to take some more samples from that fungi. I might be able to catch up with you two later though."
"Julian?"
"I could go for one."
Jadzia shrugged. "Share a lift down?"
They all boarded the turbolift together. As they began their descent, Miles couldn't help but notice where Julian's gaze landed. Garak's top half could be seen through the window to Sisko's office, making sweeping arm gestures as he talked. That poor boy really had it bad, didn't he?
Well, hopefully one of them would put a stop to the circling soon ,or else Miles might have an aneurysm if they pulled any more stunts like today.
It would take several drinks to put what Miles had seen out of his mind.
Author's Note: Garak keeps wearing a skant for the next year or two till he goes off to join Damar's rebellion where he's forced into pants again :'( He gains quite the following on Starbase 375 tho.
This fic has two Skant-y continuations! They're Skant Supply by ConceptaDecency and Rants About Skants by Zaan, both on ao3.