The camping trip

They trudged down the mountainous forest path, dodging stray rocks and loose pebbles, stepping over twigs strewn everywhere.

"Someone really ought to tidy up this path," Weyoun muttered, casting a critical eye over the ground beneath their feet.

Damar scoffed. "I thought Vorta couldn't appreciate that sort of thing," he pointed out.

Weyoun eyed him. "Since when is noticing cleanliness a factor of aesthetics?"

Defeated, Damar harrumphed and fell back on his course. He heard Dukat walking behind him.

"I would appreciate it if you two could offer me a hand," the Gul said tightly, glaring a little at them both. He groaned in discomfiture as he adjusted the rucksack's position on his back.

Weyoun, however, was off someplace skipping in the distance. Damar looked at his commanding officer. "Tell me, whose wonderful idea was this?"

Dukat scowled. "Captain Sisko."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Damar muttered, rolling his blue eyes.

"Dukat!" the little Vorta's high-pitched voice called out from over a ridge.

The two Cardassians approached the hill and walked over it - it was only small. They came to a denser area of forest. Damar hated how Weyoun would never include him. It pissed him off massively, not that he cared in the slightest about what the insufferable clone thought or said of him.

Taking the rucksack off his back, Dukat put his hands on his hips and exhaled loudly. "Yes, this is rather a good spot, isn't it?"

Weyoun nodded eagerly, and then looked at Damar.

Dukat, also, cast his gaze over in the direction of his second in command. "What do you think, Damar?" he asked innocently.

"I think, I don't want to be here," Damar snapped, folding his arms defiantly.

Dukat raised an amused, perturbed eye ridge. "Damar, don't be such a spoilsport."

Damar ignored Dukat's words and instead plonked himself down on a large loose tree stump.

Dukat sighed - for, he knew there was very little chance that even he could successfully talk the stoic, rash Damar out of or into a choice.

Dukat reached into the rucksack and began to draw out the things that were necessary to build a tent.

To his surprise, and slight annoyance, Weyoun came striding over. He didn't crouch down and read the instructions like Dukat was presently doing. He was, however, standing over the Gul, eyeing the sulking Damar and deliberating in his head as to where to place the tent.

Dukat flipped the PADD around and tapped at it furiously. He groaned in frustration. Instructions in every language except Cardassian, and their universal translators were experiencing a malfunction. He slammed it onto the leafy, muddy ground.

Weyoun frowned, puzzled but intrigued. He often saw people argue and fight and die, but never get as annoyed as much as Dukat did.

"Dukat?" Weyoun asked, hands clasped behind his back. "It's getting dark."

Dukat didn't need a Vorta to tell him it was getting dark. He wasn't blind, like the Vorta practically were. He was Cardassian; he could feel the cold intensely, even through his broad uniform cuirass.

Dukat began to pull out the tent equipment and spread it out on the forest floor.

Damar looked up, and Dukat silently asked him to assist him. Damar grudgingly got to his feet and approached Dukat, hunkering down to flick through the pages on the PADD.

"You've put that in the wrong place," he said to Dukat, pointing to a metal rod that Dukat had somehow rammed into a sheet of fabric. Dukat rolled his eyes as he watched Damar set the issues straight.

"Oh, for Prophets' sake!" Dukat cursed, throwing down one of the rods in a fit of temper.

Damar stayed sat down, hovering, but waved a support pole at his commanding officer. "Dukat, calm down. I think its almost done."

Dukat said nothing, only gave him a wry smile.

Damar gestured to a plastic pole. "Pass me that." Dukat did so, and Damar promptly stuck it in place.

Finally completed, their tent was reasonably large, but pretty snug inside. There was enough space for three, maybe four small sleeping spaces.

Weyoun grinned, but not really out of appreciation. "This is marvellous," he announced happily. He didn't particularly mean what he had just said - he didn't know how good the tent actually looked, nor did he really care.

Dukat stood up and stretched his back, moaning in discomfiture. He rubbed his hands and couldn't help a smile.

Leader of Cardassia. Prefect of Bajor. Father of nine. And, now... Builder of tents.

He rolled out the three sleeping bags and handed two of them out to Damar and Weyoun. The pair took the sleeping bags tentatively. Damar sorted his out straight away, the movements complete with a little swears thrown in here and there. Weyoun, though, was much more hesitant in sorting his sleeping bag out.

Dukat had already done his, having now placed it in a space of the tent that was closet to the exit.

As night fell, the cool air came too. Dukat lay in his sleeping bag drifting slowly off to sleep. He knew he only had himself to blame - after all, it was he who chose to sleep closest to the exit. Still, a chilly breeze for a few nights was much more favourable in comparison to spending the nights surrounded by Damar and Weyoun, listening to their constant bickering.

Damar, beside him, was sleeping soundly. Well, metaphorically speaking. He was snoring like nobody's business, murmuring random things in his sleep.

Quiet - for the most part - did not entirely fall upon the sleeping company. Weyoun had sunk that ship long ago.

Dukat woke up, his eyes aching. He couldn't sleep. "Weyoun, is that you?" he asked wearily.

The Vorta shook his head. "I don't know what you mean, but that annoying whining and snoring is Damar."

Dukat held back a tiny chuckle. "I don't think I like sleeping alone."

Weyoun raised an eyebrow. "I do hope that's not an invitation."

Dukat paled. "Oh, Prophets, no! Don't flatter yourself." He curled up in his sleeping bag and sighed.

"Damar still stinks of that Kanar," Weyoun said randomly.

Dukat nodded, as much he could while lying down on the movement restricting sleeping bag.

Damar must've heard them. He grunted and partially sat up, propping himself up on one elbow. "Huh?"

Weyoun smiled at him, a movement that made Damar judder all over. "Nothing that concerns you, dear Damar."

Damar harrumphed and reached into his bag, taking out a small bottle. Weyoun sighed when he saw what it was. Damar brought the bottle to his lips and swallowed the entire contents in one go. He put it safely away, and was unsurprised to see Dukat and Weyoun glaring at him.

"The entire tent will stink now," Dukat declared, looking reasonably miffed.

Damar's jaw stiffened. "It helps me sleep."

Weyoun smiled wryly. "Dukat?" he asked softly, once Damar had fallen asleep again - probably helped by the Kanar. "Why does Damar drink?"

Dukat moaned and awoke, thanks to Weyoun elbowing him. He kept his eyes closed, though. "Go to sleep, Weyoun, he murmured, his face buried in his pillow.

Weyoun was silent for a few wonderful minutes.

"Dukat?" Silence. "Dukat, I can't sleep! Dukat!"