#How are we supposed to have fun this way?

[jarofstyles]

Benefits

Hi lovebugs! This can be read as a standalone, but this is a 3 parter. The first part will be put up here but the next two are Patreon exclusives if you’re interested. (Part two is up now) I hope you guys love it.

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WC- 6.6k

Warnings- Asshole-ish H, smut, slight degrading, oral, slight possessiverry, etc

She knew he was watching.

A subtle smirk played on her lips as she helped herself to a drink in the kitchen, nearly able to feel the man’s eyes on her as he traced her dress. One she wore just for him, but would never admit to. He wasn’t good about hiding how much he watched her, how much he had been curious about her, but he hadn’t talked much to her. Only stared.

She'd been warned that Harry was a man of few words. He didn't go out of his way to talk, he was the stereotype of tall, dark, handsome and dangerous-but it's exactly what she's been craving. Twisting the lid back onto the mixer, she finally raised the cup to her lips as she turned around to face him. He wasn't hiding the fact that he was watching her. His eyes didn't stray. He liked that she didn't waver in her staring back, too. Y/N could tell.

It had been a long time since a man had properly excited her. She wasn’t exactly the easiest to please, if she was being honest. Y/N got bored easily, she liked to play games, to test people to see if they could handle her- but something about Harry had her fully understanding that he could handle her, no problem. Maybe it was just the look in his eyes that told her he was intrigued by her but also wanted to eat her alive, but she quite liked it.

Her eyes flirted with his, as she slowly took a sip, her throat bobbing delicately. "I think you're enjoying the view." Her voice was sultry, a taunt. She was baiting him, daring him to respond, to engage. The game of cat and mouse had been fun, but she wanted to be caught. "You're not very good at hiding it."

“M’not trying to hide it.” His raspy voice made her internally peek up. She’d only heard it a handful of times but each one had nearly had her purring. The man had the voice of her wet dreams, and she sort of hated how he was checking off boxes she had purposely put too high.

A small smirk played on her lips as she set the cup down, her hands moving to rest on the counter. She leaned forward, her arms stretching out in front of her, very aware she was very generously handing over a view of her chest for him to glaze over. "Is that so?" She asked, matching his tone. "You're just going to stand there and stare at me then?" The challenge was laid out softly, despite the tension in the room.

“Mm. I was enjoying the view.” His body was leaned against the cabinets of the kitchen, no shame at all in admitting the fact. “Think y’like when I look.”

Her eyes traveled up his face and met his eyes, a slow blink the only reaction to his words. She liked it, damn it. She liked being the focus of his attention, even if he wasn't saying anything particularly sweet or romantic. There was something about his blunt honesty that drew her in. "And what if I told you I don't like it?" She asked, her voice a gentle purr. "What would you do then?"

“I’d tell you t’stop looking like that and maybe we could come to an agreement.” His eyes kept contact with no issue, challenging her back. “I know you’ve been looking back at me when y’think I’m not going to notice.”

God, he was hot. It was infuriating, really. Men weren’t supposed to effect her like this. She’d always had the upper hand, but this one had her wavering as she reached up to twist a strand of her hair around her finger. "And what kind of agreement would that be?" She asked with a soft tilt to her voice. She loved the way he spoke, the way his accent rolled off his tongue. It was so…different to the general population of men she was used to. Some could accuse her of being excited over having a new flavor at her fingertips, but Y/N would argue that anyone who got a few moments alone with him would feel that level of excitement prickle their nerves. "One where I stop looking at you and you start talking to me?" The girl suggested, the small smirk playing on her lips growing.

“Perhaps.” Crossing his arms, he stood up off the counter and slowly sauntered over to her. “Was tryin’ to figure you out. Don’t get new additions in the group often, and you’re different than the people we’re usually around.” His tall form had her lifting her head a bit to keep his eyes as he stopped in front of her.

 She’d been right. He was taller than she’d thought, and broader. The man had kept a physical distance before, but now she was feeling the effects of him dropping that barrier. He was just so…large. And it made her feel small, which was a feeling she rarely experienced. "And what have you figured out?" She asked softly, tilting her head to the side as her eyes fluttered to his lips briefly before meeting his eyes again.

“I’ve figured out a couple of things.” Taking another step forward he gave her the chance to move if she wanted- but she didn’t. Backing against the counter, she didn’t shy away from him. “Mostly that you’re a little bit bratty, but you aren’t fake. You’ve been mostly nice t’everyone.” It had been a relief. Harry wouldn’t have been shy about calling her out on ulterior motives, but he only knew of one- and it had come after she’d already met everyone. “And you want me t’fuck you.”

She swallowed hard, her heart in her throat as he took another step forward. Again, she could have moved, but she didn't. Instead, she stayed put, her back against the counter as she met his gaze. His words were blunt, and she liked that about him. Most people would sugarcoat things, but not him. "And what if I do?" She asked, her voice faltering slightly for the first time in a long time. It was so different, but...She liked it. He had managed to get her to feel something different. Naturally making her feel a little more submissive when she had been so used to taking in the opposite role. 

“I’d fuck you.” Harry rose a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve wanted to do it since I met you. Had to figure out if you were someone who was going to stick around.” The tension was thick between them. “I don’t usually fuck people just once. Don't like to think with my dick. But I think you’d want it more than once.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the heat pooling between her legs at his words. She’d known he wanted her by the way he had looked at her body, but hearing him say it out loud had her insides quivering. He was so…crude and it was so hot. "I’d want it more than once." She admitted breathlessly. She wasn’t one to shy away from the fact. "And how many times do you think it would be?"

“I’m not in the business of letting you nut off and fuck off. If m’fucking you, you’ll be in my bed for hours. I don’t go easy.” It was the truth she needed to hear. Harry wasn’t one to half ass sex, and considering he’d been letting the want fester for a bit now, he had plenty of things he wanted to do for her. “Is that something you can handle?”

Her throat was dry, her voice hoarse as she responded, "Hours? That sounds...nice." She wanted to tell him that she could handle anything he threw at her, but she knew he'd only call her bluff. She'd never had a man talk to her like this before when she had confidence he could actually back up the claims, and it was exciting. Y/N wanted to know what else he'd say, what else he'd do. "And if I can't? What happens then?"

“Then I’ll walk away and let you continue your night. M’not going to do any of that if it isn’t what you can take, or isn’t what you want.” He made no effort to move, though, because he already knew what her answer is going to be. “You’re not gonna make it weird for everyone else in the group after we fuck, yeah? You’ll be able to behave yourself whenever we go out for the stupid dinners and drinks?”

She swallowed hard, his words making her feel things she hadn't felt in a long time. The way he was talking to her, the intensity in his eyes, it was all so new and thrilling. "I can handle anything you give me." She said softly, her voice filled with a confidence she didn't quite feel but wanted to project. "And I can behave myself. I'm not some teenager who's going to go running to the group about this."

“Just got t’be sure, Cherry.” Lifting a finger up towards her bottom lip, he smeared the lipstick with his thumb before pulling it back. “You don’t seem to be the kiss and tell type, but you never know.”

Her eyes fluttered closed briefly as his thumb brushed against her bottom lip, again the action so simple yet so hot. A little invasive- in a good way. She couldn't help but part her lips slightly, inviting him to touch her more. "I'm not. And besides, who would I tell?" She asked softly.

“That’s the right answer.” He sighed, taking a second to look over his shoulder and back to her face. “C’mon then. M’not fucking you here. Don’t want you to have to keep quiet. If I’m fucking you, I want to hear you.” Curling his hand around the back of her neck, he brought her out the back door. “S’a short walk.”

——-

He had a nice house. Smaller, with a porch and garage. Newly painted, lawn maintained and a little tree in the front. It wasn’t the bachelor pad she had expected, but she really didn’t know that much about him- did she? That was becoming more apparent the longer she spent near him. 

“C’mon. Inside.” He unlocked the door and ushered her in, relieving them from the chill of the night. “Shouldn’t go out without a jacket next time.” The grumble seemed to make her laugh as he tossed his keys into the bowl, kicking his shoes haphazardly on the mat. She hadn’t expected to go on a stroll, so she had left the jacket in her car- but he didn’t really care about that. “Do you want a drink? Or do you just want to get into it?”

Her eyes scanned the cozy interior of his home, taking her even further by surprise. No, it wasn’t the bachelor pad at all. It was tidy and clean, with a few personal touches that gave her a glimpse into what was probably his actual personality. She noticed a guitar in the corner, a few books on a shelf, and a framed photo on the mantle that she couldn’t quite make out. “Huh?” The place had warmth she hadn’t expected to see, and the distraction was evident as she vaguely heard him ask something.

“Do you want me t’get you a drink, or do you want me to get to fucking you?”

Her attention snapped back to him, his words making her blush. Honestly? She really did love how blunt he could be, no sugarcoating or beating around the bush. It was so common to have people be coy about what they wanted, but then again Harry wasn’t anything close to most people she had met.  "Oh, um, I think I'll go with the second option," Her words came out slightly shy, with a hesitant smile. She looked around the room again, taking in the details, before her gaze landed back on him. "But first, can I ask you something?"

“Yeah.” He grunted, taking a step into her space and putting his hands on her waist as he backed her further into the home. “Make it quick. Dick’s fucking aching.”

Her breath hitched as he moved closer, his hands on her waist making her feel small and delicate. She licked her lips, hesitation flickering in her eyes before she asked, "It’s just…Why me? You've barely said two words to me before tonight. And now...here we are." She trailed off, nibbling her lip. A nervous tell.

“Because I was trying t’see if you were someone that was going to stick around.” He said bluntly. “Lots of people pop in and back out. Didn’t know if you’d be one of the floaters. Got to watch you and see how you were before I talked to you. I wanted to see what you’d say.” While some could call it a little creepy, he’d more so put it as educating himself for the best result. “Wasn’t sure you’d be okay with me fucking you. Some people can’t handle me or how I talk. You’re a sweet little thing but I can tell you like some of the nasty shit. So we’d most likely get along.”

She blinked at him, processing his blunt words. A small, almost imperceptible shiver ran through her body at his assessment. He had been watching her, evaluating her...and apparently found her worthy of letting her see a whole different side of him. Y/N hadn’t pushed her luck in regard to asking about him but she figured there wasn’t much people would say anyways. It was obvious to her through her own observations that he had been quiet about a lot on purpose. Considering there were a few people in the group that did indeed find him incredibly attractive, it was more than exciting that he had chosen her- mirrored her own quiet interest. The thought sent a thrill down her spine. 

"I...I appreciate your thoroughness," she said, a slight tremor in her voice, though trying to still appear confident in the way she had tried to portray. It wasn’t an act- she really was like that- but Harry had that little edge to him that made her want to soften up. "And you're right, I can handle you. I like a man who knows what he wants."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “And what do you want, specifically?” Her voice was low, almost breathy as she looked up at him. “With me?” His words had given her a lot to think about. The way he had evaluated her, the way he had found her worthy all while barely knowing her, and the way he had so bluntly admitted that he wanted her around for more than just a one-night stand. But she wanted to hear it all.

“I want to have an arrangement between the two of us. Told you, m’not someone who fucks people once. Not sure if m’looking for a relationship, but I want to like the person I’m fucking.” It was convinent for a release, having an understanding. “We’ve obviously got physical chemistry, find each other attractive and have the same friends. I think…” He leaned his face closer to hers. “We should be friends that fuck. Often.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze locked onto his. "Friends with benefits," she clarified softly. "No strings attached, but...exclusivity?" She wanted to know that she was the only one he was sleeping with, even if they weren't in a traditional relationship. "And we can still hang out with our mutual friends, just...without them knowing the details?" She bit her lip, considering the proposition.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me, I don’t have the time to find other people to fuck. Work a lot, and I’ve got particular taste. I don’t want to worry about you fucking around either. Too much shit goes around. Eventually I’d like to ditch the condoms.” He shrugged, firmly gripping her waist to pick her up and set her on the hallway table. “It’ll be nice. You can just… Call me when you need to be fucked. I’ll call you. Scratch the itch. The rest don’t have to know a thing.”

She let out a soft sigh as he set her on the table, her arms wrapping around his neck as he towered over her. "Alright," she agreed, her heart racing at the thought of being exclusive with him. "Just you and me, no strings, no other people involved." She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "And...no labels either, right? We're just friends who fuck, nothing more."

“Right. As long as you know that cunt’s mine to fuck for now, I’m happy.” He chuckled under his breath, nudging her thighs apart. “You wore this dress for me, didn’t you?” Fingers dragged up her inner thigh as he questioned her. “Cause you wanted my attention.”

She let her legs fall open, her breath hitching as he nudged her thighs apart. Her heart fluttered at his words, her insides clenching at the possessiveness in his voice. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew she had. When the confirmation that he had been coming had been dropped in the group text, she had taken getting ready a bit more seriously. Though she hadn’t expected this to be the outcome. Not in the slightest. "Yes, it was for you," she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper as he touched her thigh. "I hoped you’d like it.” She squirmed, her legs spreading further. "Did you?

“Decided to take you home, didn’t I?” Shaking his head, he let out a sigh as he watched her squirm. “Course I fuckin’ liked it. But you’ve been taunting me, and you weren’t subtle about it either. Figured I had to ask you now.” Ghosting his fingertips along the hem of her panties, he tangled his other hand in the ends of her hair to tug her head back. “Could tell you were starting to get a little desperate.”

She moaned softly as he pulled her head back, her eyes fluttering closed briefly before locking onto his again. "Well, you were staring at me like you wanted to eat me alive," she retorted, her voice breathy. "So...yeah, maybe I was getting a little desperate." She bit her lip, shifting her hips forward. "So, are you going to touch me now?"

His touch was gentle, almost torturously so, as he ran his fingertips over the damp fabric. His eyes were locked onto hers, watching her reactions intently. "You're so eager. Though m’not so sure I like the sass. I’ll do as I like, and you can tell me how good it feels." he murmured, his thumb pressing down on her through the thin material. "I bet you're dripping, aren't you?" His touch grew firmer, ever so slowly rubbing his thumb over her clit.

Her breath hitched, her hips bucking forward to meet his touch. She hadn’t been sure how he would be in this sort of scenario, but it was better than she imagined. It took a special sort of man to make her feel even the slightest bit submissive and she almost melting. "Y-yes," she stammered, her voice slightly shaky. It was embarrassing how wet she got for him before he’d even touched her. "I'm...I'm soaking for you." Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as her head fell back against the wall.

She could feel his touch like a brand through the thin fabric, her legs spreading wider to grant him better access. Her breath came in short gasps, her chest heaving with each breath. "Please," she whimpered, her hips moving in rhythm with his touch. "It's not enough..."

“Greedy.” He laughed through his nose. “I was curious how you’d be once I got my hands on you. You talk a big game, like t’be a tease… but in reality, you’re a desperate little slut, hm?” It was the most he’s ever spoken to her, but she couldn’t complain when his words went straight to her cunt.

"I can’t help it! You started it.” She gasped as he found a rhythm, her body tensing as his fingers tugged the panties to the side, slipping under the fabric. "Oh god…” She moaned, her body tensing as his calloused fingertips grazed her bare flesh.  His words made her squirm, her body trembling as he slid a long, thick finger inside her.

“I didn’t start anything.” His voice was contained, even as he spoke with the smug little smirk on his face. “I told you, I needed t’figure you out. I hoped you’d be like this…” Looking down to where his hand was hidden between her legs, slowly pushing his finger in and out of her sopping wet cunt, he licked over his bottom lip. “Desperate. Melt at the slightest touch. You rejected everyone who came up to you at the bars when they wanted to take you home but you love t’flirt. You knew they wouldn’t be able to give you what you needed- so you waited for me to move in.”

"Mmmm…” She let out a moan as he slipped another finger inside her. "They can’t handle me. They want to try but I don’t want someone to try- I want them to do it.” she whimpered, rocking her hips into his hand. "You’re wrong, you did start it.” She gasped out, her back arching as he crooked his fingers to graze against that sweet spot inside her. "You walked in and you...you just stared at me like you owned me.”

“Because I did.” He leaned forward, letting their lips brush. “And now I do. This wet little cunt is mine to fuck for now. Got all slick before I had even laid my hands on you, fucking filthy.” He sneered. “Listen to that.” The sound of his fingers fucking into her were audible beneath her pants.

The squelching sound of his fingers pumping in and out of her quivering hole echoed through the room, a lewd melody that grew louder with each thrust. Her own wetness made his digits glisten, the sound of her coating his skin becoming embarrassingly audible. Every push into her tight hole was met with a wet slap of his palm over her clit, punctuated by her short breaths and gasps.

"It is your fault!" She hissed, her voice strained as she tried to keep quiet. "You kept staring at me like…like you wanted to devour me. It's not fair!" Her hips jerked forward as he increased the pace, her hand flying to his shoulders to steady herself. "You're gonna make me come like this." She hissed, her nails digging into his shirt.

“Then cum.” He taunted. “If it’s all my fault that your desperate pussy got all sloppy and wet, cum on my fingers and show me that then. Barely even touched you and you’re clenching all around my fingers.”

Her breath hitched, her face flushing with heat. "Oh god, shut up..." She hissed, her hips bucking against his hand as he curled his fingers inside her, getting the spot she couldn’t get on her own. "H-Harry… Fuck." She let out a high-pitched cry as she finally shattered, her inner muscles tightening around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Her body trembled as the intense pressure building inside her finally broke. Her inner walls clamped down around his fingers, squeezing them as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. The lewd sounds of his digits moving in and out of her drenched opening grew louder as she writhed against his hand, soaking his skin. Without thinking, she buried her face against his neck, muffling her whimpers as the peak of her climax washed over her.

"There y’go. Filthy girl, making a mess of my hand.” He coaxed, slowing his fingers down but rubbing right against the spongy spot in her cunt to make it last. “That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?”

"Mmm, yes." She mumbled against his neck, her breath hitching as aftershocks wracked her body. "Please...please no more..." She whimpered, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she clung to him, boneless and spent. "It's too much." Her voice was soft, vulnerable.

“I think you can take more.” He said with a laugh, but pulled his fingers out anyway. “But since m’nice, I’ll give you a second. I’ll go easy on you since it’s the first time we’re fucking, but next time m’not stopping. You’ll keep cumming.” Harry had plenty of plans for her, she had no clue how much he’d been planning on this. “C’mon.” Scooping her up easily, he had her wrap her legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders as he carried her through the house.

"You’re insufferable.” She muttered, her head nuzzling against his neck as her body trembled in the aftermath of her release. She let out a soft squeak as he easily picked her up, her face flushed as she hid it. "Where are we going?” She asked, her voice soft. "I can walk, you know...” Y/N trailed off, her face flushing. "I’m not light, either.”

“Shut the fuck up with that. M’holding you, and m’not struggling.” He grunted, giving her ass a swat as he kicked open the door to his bedroom. “Bringing you to my room. Since your cunt needs a second, figured it’s nicer on your knees if you’re kneeling on my carpet t’suck me off.” The bluntness showed its head again as he felt her pull her face from his neck. “Been thinking about you getting that lipstick you keep wearin’ all over my cock.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing darker. "Oh...” She trailed off, licking her lips unconsciously as her gaze lowered to his crotch. "You mean like this?” She asked, her voice soft and sultry as she slid down his body to land on her feet. She slowly sank to her knees, her hands resting on his thighs. "Maybe I will, maybe I won’t..."

“I think you will. You’ve been gagging for it.” His hands grabbed the buckle of his belt as she looked up at him on her knees, the picture absolutely perfect. “You look awfully good there. Think you were made to be on your knees for me.” Depositing the leather onto the floor, he reached for her face and let his thumb smear her cherry red lipstick. “Go on. Undo my trousers, take my cock out. Know it’s what y’want. Don’t have to play coy with me.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as he smeared her lipstick, her tongue darting out to lick at her lips. "Mmm, you think so?” She cooed, her hands moving to his fly. She deftly undid the button and zipper, her slender fingers pushing the fabric down his hips. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the bulge in his boxers, her voice low. "Maybe…” Her breath hitched as she felt the warmth of his body through the fabric. "Maybe I'll take your cock out and give it a little kiss first," she whispered, her hands gripping the elastic waistband, slowly pulling them down to help his cock out.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips once more. His cock was thick, the head flushed a ruddy red. Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, feeling the heat radiating from him. "So big and hard for me." she purred, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. Brushing her tongue around the sensitive tip, she smeared the precum that had leaked out. Looking up at him, she felt the thrill in her stomach as his eyes darkened with lust as he watched her. She opened her mouth, slowly lathing her tongue lick up and down his shaft from base to tip.

“There y’go.” He breathed, gathering her hair in a loose excuse for a ponytail. The red had transferred some to his cock and he loved the vision. He’d thought about it more times than he could count. “One day, think I should film this. Let you see how pretty you look on your knees.” He murmured, watching as her tongue ran back over the slit. “Get it wet.”

Humming in approval at his words, her tongue continuing to lap at his length, eyes fluttered closed as she felt his hand tighten in her hair. “I would like that.” Continuing to lick him, her tongue traced the ridges and veins of his cock before she looked up at him, wrapping her lips around the tip.

“Good.” He grunted as he felt the plushness of her lips take the head of him into her mouth, the slow pull of the suction. “Take a little more. Know you’ve been thinking about sucking this cock. Show me.”

As he spoke, she listened, taking more of him into her mouth. Unfortunately, she was not as immune to him as she had tried to be. It seemed she had met her match, wanting to please him in ways she usually scoffed at with any other man. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as she bobbed her head up and down, doing the work she needed to make him pleased. Her hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with her mouth as she looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, her throat working around his thickness.

“Oh, fuck.” He laughed deeply, head tilting back as she showed him what he had asked for. “Thatta’ girl. Knew you had it in you. Shit.” He cursed under his breath as the heat of her mouth welcomed him, taking him much better than he had anticipated.

She could feel his hands in her hair, guiding her pace, making sure she was taking him just right. The salty taste of his precum mixed with the musky scent of his arousal was intoxicating, making her head spin. She looked up at him, her lips stretched around his girth, and saw the raw desire in his eyes. It only fueled her own hunger, making her suck him even harder, desperate to please him.

Y/N moaned around his cock as he bottomed out in her throat, the vibrations traveling up his shaft. Her nose pressed against his pelvis as she swallowed around him, her throat constricting to make him hiss. She held herself there, savoring the feeling of being so completely filled by him before slowly pulling back to catch her breath. Strings of saliva connected her lips to his spit-shined cock.

His face contorted with pleasure as she deep-throated him, a guttural groan escaping his lips. "God, you're so good at that." Harry praised, his hands fisting her hair tighter. His hips bucked forward, meeting her bobbing head, the wet sounds of her mouth filling the room. His breathing grew heavier, chests heaving as he struggled to maintain control. "You’re gonna be a lot of fun to fuck, aren’t you?”

“Mhm.” With a messy pop, she pulled his cock out of her mouth, saliva dripping from his glistening tip. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with lust, before leaning forward and spitting directly onto his cock. The mess hit him dripping over the side, making him hiss in surprise. Rubbing her saliva into his cock, she coated him in it as she smirked up. Getting him to react was a reward. He had barely said anything to anyone, and she was the one getting him to groan and hiss. Sue her for feeling a little special. “Think it’s wet enough?” She purred, coy as she looked at him through his lashes.

Before she could say another word, Harry grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, his mouth crashing against hers in a searing kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips, making her moan in surprise. Was he good at everything? She could taste herself on him, the salty sweetness of her saliva mixing with the heat of his own mouth. Biting down on her lower lip, he pulled it gently between his teeth before letting go.

 "You talk too much."

Her breath hitched as he spoke against her mouth, his voice low and commanding. She could only manage a whimper in response, her knees growing weak. He took advantage of her parted lips and weakened stance, slipping his hands around to squeeze her ass, pulling her flush against him so she could feel him against her tummy. "But you're right," he murmured, voice roughened by desire. "You've made quite a mess. Think you’re ready to take my cock?"

She nodded eagerly, her eyes locked onto his intense gaze. "Then turn around and bend over the bed," he ordered, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. She quickly complied, feeling a rush of cool air against her bare backside as she leaned forward, gripping the bed sheets tightly. 

As she leaned her chest further into the bed, she felt the soft fabric of the comforter against her breasts, her hard nipples grazing against it. Every sensation felt a little overwhelming, but in a good way. It had been a long time coming considering how she had tried to navigate how to work up how to simply talk to Harry, and now he was her supposed friends with benefits. Patience was wearing thin.  Swaying her ass enticingly, wanting to give him a good show- make him break. The room was filled with the sound of her shallow breathing, her chest heaving as she tried to regulate her breathing. Behind her, she could hear the crinkle of plastic as he sheathed himself in a condom.

She could imagine how Harry must look right now, his dark eyes fixed on her ass as he prepared himself. The thought sent her reeling. If only she had eyes on the back of her head. Feeling him step close, his body heat radiating off of himself and into her bare skin, she lifted her hips slightly, trying to guide his cock to press against her soaked entrance.

Harry's strong hands gripped her hips firmly, guiding her movements and controlling the pace. control- he was exercising the control that she clearly did not have. She felt the tip of his prick slowly push against her, inch by agonizing inch. Gasping, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets as she stretched to accommodate his size. The sensation was intense, bordering on overwhelming, but she welcomed it nonetheless, pushing back against him to encourage him to continue. "Oh, fucks sake.” She sulked into the mattress.

,"It’s not fair. You can’t.. You’re not supposed t’have such a big dick when you act like one.”  Her words came out in a string of stuttered moans as he seated himself fully inside her, his hips flush against her ass. He gave a low, satisfied chuckle, his body tensing as he held himself deep inside her.  She felt her insides clench around him, her body instinctively trying to adjust to his size. “Oh, no? You don’t like it?”

She shook her head vehemently, biting her lip as she felt him throb inside her. "N-no, I love it. I fucking love it." She admitted breathlessly, her voice thick with need. "It's just not...fair that you get to have such a perfect cock and you waited so long to give it to me." She punctuated her words with a roll of her hips, relishing the drag of his thick length against her walls.

Her insides felt like a silken vice around him, pulsating rhythmically as if trying to milk him despite him not being inside her long enough to do so.  Her body was already betraying her as her walls quivered around him, her inner muscles fluttering as if trying to entice him to move, to draw him in deeper. Her body was warm, and she was tight, gripping him as if she hadn’t been with anyone in years.

A smug grin spread across his face as he let out a low, satisfied groan from deep within his chest. “Well, m’sorry, babe. Had t’make sure you’d be a good fit for my cock. I think I made the right call, though. Tight little thing, squeezing me the way I like.” He taunted, his voice laced with amusement. His hands tightened on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he slowly began to move within her. "You like how I fill you up?" He punctuated his words with slow, measured thrusts, his voice growing hoarser as she clenched around him.

When she struggled to answer, he let out a laugh instead. He continued to speak for her, his voice a low, husky rumble as he slowly pumped into her. "Yeah, y’like being stuffed full of my cock. Like how it stretches you open and makes you feel so fucking small." He teased, his fingers digging into her hips as he picked up his pace slightly. "Barely able to talk back to me when I know you love to run that filthy mouth. Must be because you’re not used to being filled like this.”

She mewled, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. He was right. Embarrassingly so. The wet squelch of his cock plunging in and out of her filled the room, mixing with the erotic symphony of their moans and groans. He could feel her getting more slick, her arousal coating his shaft and dripping down onto his balls. "That's it, take it deep like that. You like to play tough, but you just want t’be a good girl for me. Isn’t that right?"

Her response was a strangled cry, her pussy fluttering around him as if to agree. He grunted in approval, his hips snapping forward to fill her again. "Good girl," he praised darkly. "You're doing so well. Such a good little thing, taking me so well. Now answer me.” The croon was soft, a direct opposite to his pace. “Gonna let me fuck you when I want, mm? Gonna call me when y’need it too?”

She keened, her voice echoing in the room. "Y-Yes please... I- I'll call you. I'll be good. I'll... I'll let you. I'll let you whenever you want!" Her words came out disjointed, broken up by his thrusts growing a bit harder, jostling her where she laid. Her hands fisted the sheets beneath her, her knuckles turning white as she tried to keep herself grounded.

"That’s a good fuckin’ girl. You're gonna be so well-behaved for me, aren't you?" He cooed, his voice a soothing contrast to the growing brutal pace of his hips. One hand slid up her back, pressing between her shoulder blades to keep her arched as he took his pleasure from her. "You're mine t’play with now, understand? This pretty little cunt belongs to me." As he continued to pound into her, she felt a sense of contentment wash over her. This was exactly what she needed - someone to take control, to make her feel desired and owned. And Harry was perfect for the job. They were going to be lovely friends, with many benefits. As she teetered on the edge of her climax, she felt a sense of peace settle over her, knowing that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

[recursive-muse]

Well I suppose to start off, obviously trans misogyny "isn't real" it's not made of matter, it exists in a very loose sense as a general pattern of discriminatory and cruel behavior directed mostly, but not exclusively at trans women. But I suppose you'd want me to ask you how can something that isn't even made of matter have definitive qualities? It can't be set in stone or 'definitive' any more than Christmas or the qualities of a unicorn can be.

So while you can be correct or incorrect about the particular details of an instance of discrimination experienced by a particular person (be they trans or otherwise). There are no concrete rules as to how anyone is discriminated against, just general guidelines that people learn from each other by watching their behavior.

So I suppose it's true that if you insist on narrowly defining trans misogyny as a form of discrimination that is both a) uniquely experienced by trans women, and b) defined by trans women as a collective. Then it's true that no such thing exists as the particulars of how and why discrimination is doled out are decided by the discriminator in the instance of discrimination, and instances of mistaken identity are fairly common (i.e. a trans man or cis woman could be mistaken for a trans woman, or vice versa).

What's more, It's not at all clear how you intend for point b of your definition of trans misogyny to work. Do all trans women need to attend a meeting to agree on the definition, do they put it to a vote or is it by consensus, and if it is how much variance in the understanding of the definition is tolerable? How closely does someone have to identify with womanhood to count as part of this community and how many members need to be present for them to hold quorum?

This is all of course in jest, we both know there is no one definition of trans misogyny that all trans women agree to, there are some generalities but every definition has its detractors and there is no binding consensus. This too is another vague social construct that lacks definitive qualities.

As for your conjecture that I am either 'misusing' or 'misdefining' the word trans misogyny which you somewhat unhelpfully declined to define yourself. I don't see how that's possible when language itself is socially constructed. Now yes, there are prescriptive, academic, and dictionary definitions, all of which can be quite helpful in clarifying what we mean when we use certain words. But as I'm sure you've noticed with slang people can say whatever they like and meen whatever they like by it and as long as they're understood by some subset of the population they've successfully used language. Now I know it's tempting to say that slang isn't 'official', but as you may have guessed the official quality of anything is also socially constructed (see aren't social constructs fun, we're 'surrounded' by them all the time and yet we hardly ever get around to recognizing them as such). As again I'm sure you've noticed definitions can vary from one dictionary to the next and academics themselves can quarrel over the precise details of any given definition, while still agreeing on the broader points. So there are no 'definitive' definitions just ones that are agreed upon by groups of experts, but even then who gets to be an expert, how much schooling do they need, if groups disagree how should they resolve their differences? These questions have plenty of practical answers, but no correct ones.

You also seem to imply that you have some sort of information that I lack which would better clarify your point. Now I very much doubt that, but I suppose you can claim it to be true, I don't care. Then you imply that my points are for some reason 'despicable' I'm guessing you want me to interpret this as some sort of unsubstantiated moral claim, tho I don't understand what you mean by it. Honestly, I see it as an emotional reaction to my position different from your own, or perhaps you simply dislike my phrasing. Either way, my positions are correct and I don't care why you dislike them, they are factual after all.

To round this out I'll clarify two more points for you. I'm gender fluid, and I have a degree in sociology. So there, I hope this hasn't ruined your day or anything. Personally I don't really think that matters, but there it is.

“everyone talking about transmisogyny is a binary trans woman, as evidenced by the fact that I assume everyone talking about transmisogyny is a binary trans woman”

sigh

[unacknowledgeable]

SK!Reader x Yan!Batfam: Not in the plan

I have thoughts about the batfam going yandere before finding out about Reader being a serial killer.

Because if the fam go yandere before finding out, this gives them time to formulate their own perceptions of the reader, based on their limited knowledge of them and a lot of wistful thinking, so there's now an illusion built that can be shattered. 

It’d definitely be a slower roll into being yanderes, because they view the Reader as a full civilian and obviously don’t want to scare them off. They only really have the media's view of the Reader, and Alfred's view to make assumptions off of, which both are pretty biased tbh.

 They end up forming this version of Reader that is quiet but charming, social but reserved, irritable but kind, meek but shrewd, etc etc.

So they start off slowly, with little things, like Tim bumping into them on the street then offering to buy coffee, running into Steph while buying groceries, Jason waving at them from across a clubs dance floor, Bruce cutting in during their chat with Gordon at a Gala, getting “leftovers” from Barbara whenever she brings her dad lunch at the station, being asked for your math notes by Duke, Cass having Alfred give you tickets to her dance recitals, Damian entering rooms you’re in without making a snide comment, Dick inviting you to family game night–

The list of tiny ways they try to insert themselves is endless and every new acknowledgement from the family leaves the Reader fucking terrified.

Reader stares, bug eyed, at Tim for his offer, falls into a shelf at Steph's excited hello, downs a shot before running to the the club's bathroom to climb out the window when Jason tries to approach your seat at the bar, tripping a waiter to distract Bruce while you ditched the Gala, nearly back handing Barbara because you were listening to music and you didn't hear her come in, asking Duke ‘what math notes?’ ...while studying said notes, saying ‘no, you couldn't make the recital because you had to water a friends dog that day’ before quickly leaving the kitchen, throwing a book at Damian when he moved to close because the only times he’s ever been this quiet around you is when you're inevitably stabbed, or flinching so hard when Dick reaches out a hand to clap your shoulder, he thinks he somehow actually hurt you and the look of fear in your eyes gives off such a startling sense of deja vu, it leaves him despondent for the rest of the week.

 So now the batfam are thinking “Why the fuck are they panicking so much? oh god did we seriously fuck up so badly they're afraid of us?!?!?! DD: Why are they so uneasy??? It can’t just be because they’re estranged from them. Can it??” And now they're getting increasingly desperate to fix this because this wasn't supposed to be so difficult, but now it is and that's making it more intriguing and thus higher on the family’s list of priorities. 

Meanwhile… from the start, the Reader is just-

Because despite outward appearances, Reader is constantly paranoid as fuck. We’re talking Batman levels of paranoia. Hard not to be when he’s literally your dad. You have contingencies for your contingencies, escape routes by the dozen out of the city and out of this mortal plane itself, if needed. You had plans for every conceivable possibility, just not for this. 

You're now met with such a glaringly obvious flaw in how you go about life in general, the way you live and how you operate as a serial killer, it all hinges on the idea of the family never turning their attention your way. It wasn't even an option and now it’s happening and you had no idea how to function because this isn't normal at all. Now you're actually forced to put in more than 25% of brain power to bury any possible leads and dissuade any possible connections to yourself and the silent terror on Gotham, while also trying to figure out what the hell happened.

Safe to say, this cat and mouse game is no longer fun for you.

I'm meltingggg. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, I'm going to bed bleh

X-X

Masterlist

[wolvietxt]

𝓬harade.

pairing : bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings : jealousy, friends to lovers, fake dating, fluff, kiss, light angst, mentions of bucky’s past (like once), possessiveness  summary : you ask bucky to come with you to a charity gala, just to get tony off of your back. it’s beneficial to him too (he doesn’t have to be alone) but will the lines between fake and real blur? wc : 3.4k

bucky wasn’t sure when it started - this... thing between the two of you. he wasn’t even sure he could call it a thing, but something about you had a way of wrapping around him, unbalancing the careful walls he’d constructed to keep himself steady.

maybe it was the way you’d walked into the avengers tower three years ago, all bright smiles and teasing remarks, treating him like he was more than just a shadow from the past. or maybe it was how you never gave him space to brood for too long, always pulling him into group movie nights or challenging him to spar in the gym when you sensed he needed a distraction. whatever it was, bucky found himself gravitating toward you more than he liked to admit.

and now, sitting on one of the plush couches in the tower’s common area, staring at the team calendar where “charity gala” was written in bold, mocking letters, bucky was painfully aware of you.

“you’re glaring at that thing like it owes you money,” you teased, dropping onto the couch next to him. your knee brushed against his, and he hoped you didn’t notice the way his shoulders tensed at the contact.

he grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “it’s so stupid.”

“you say that about every event,” you replied, leaning back like you belonged there, like you belonged anywhere. “maybe this one will be fun.”

bucky gave you a look. “fancy clothes, fake smiles, and rich people talking about how generous they are? yeah… sounds like a blast.”

you giggled, and he felt the sound settle somewhere deep in his chest. “maybe you just need the right date,” you said, half-joking. “you know, someone to make it bearable.”

he snorted. “and who’s that supposed to be? steve? sam?”

“i was thinking me, actually,” you said, a glimmer of mischief in your eyes.

bucky’s brain short-circuited for a moment. he stared at you, waiting for the punchline, but it never came.

“hear me out,” you said, panicking a little at the blank expression on his face. leaning forward now, your expression more serious. “i’ve been trying to dodge tony’s matchmaking attempts for weeks, and you hate going to these things alone. right? we can fake it - just for the night. pretend we’re together. that way, we both get through it in one piece.”

his first instinct was to say no. it wasn’t a good idea. it wasn’t smart to pretend, to blur the lines that were already starting to feel too thin. but then he thought about the alternative: going alone, standing on the edges of conversations, enduring pitying glances. and there you were, offering him an easy out. offering to stand beside him, even if it was just pretend.

“fine,” he said finally. “but don’t blame me if this blows up in your face.”

“oh please,” you said, grinning now. “if anything blows up, it’ll be because you can’t act to save your life.”

he rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

by the time the night of the gala rolled around, bucky was questioning every decision that had led him to this moment. he’d been uncomfortable in suits before, but this tux felt particularly suffocating. the mirror in his room didn’t help, either; no matter how many times he adjusted his tie, he still felt like a kid playing dress-up.

“hey,” your voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, and he turned to see you standing in the doorway.

for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. your dress was sleek and elegant, the color complementing your skin in a way that made you look effortlessly radiant. but it wasn’t just the dress - it was the way you carried yourself, the way your eyes lit up when you saw him.

“wow,” you said, stepping closer. “you clean up real nice.”

he scratched the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. “you don’t look so bad yourself.”

you smirked. “aww, don’t get too sappy on me now, barnes.”

he huffed a laugh, but the nervous energy in his chest didn’t dissipate. he hoped you couldn’t tell, but out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw your smile falter.

when you arrived at the gala, the room was already bustling with people. chandeliers cast a warm glow over the space, and the soft hum of classical music filled the air.

you slipped your arm through his, leaning in closer than necessary. “smile, bucky. we’re supposed to look like we’re having fun.”

he shot you a look but forced his lips into a semblance of his grin. “if you say so.”

you both made your way through the crowd, greeting familiar faces and dodging small talk whenever possible. bucky was doing fine - or at least pretending he was - until someone approached you.

“y/n,” the man said, his smile wide and just a little too polished. “been a while.”

bucky’s eyes narrowed as you returned the greeting, your tone polite but distant. the guy’s attention lingered on you, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that made bucky’s jaw tighten.

“so, who’s your friend?” the man asked, finally acknowledging bucky.

“this is bucky,” you said, squeezing his arm slightly. “he’s my date.”

the man raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

“it’s recent,” you said smoothly, glancing at bucky. “but it’s going well.”

bucky didn’t miss the way the guy’s smile faltered, and for the first time that night, he felt a flicker of satisfaction. he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you a fraction closer.

“yep,” he said, his tone even. “real well.”

after a few more pleasantries, the man finally walked away, leaving the two of you alone again.

“he didn’t seem happy to see me with someone,” bucky muttered.

“jealousy isn't a good look on him,” you said, but there was a hint of something in your voice - something he couldn’t quite place.

you glanced up at him, your expression softening. “thanks for stepping in back there. i know this whole thing isn’t exactly your scene.”

he shrugged, but his grip on your waist didn’t loosen. “it’s not so bad.”

as the night went on, the lines between what was real and what was pretend started to blur. the way you laughed at his dry remarks, the way your hand lingered on his arm - it all felt too natural, too easy.

and maybe that’s what scared him most of all.

bucky wasn’t sure when the room started to feel smaller, the air heavier. maybe it was the way you kept pulling him into conversations with people whose names he’d already forgotten, your laughter bright and unguarded as you charmed the crowd. or maybe it was the lingering gazes from a few too many admirers who clearly didn’t get the memo about you being taken - even if it was fake.

“you okay?” your voice broke through his thoughts, quiet and meant only for him. you’d leaned in close, your hand brushing his arm. the warmth of your touch grounded him, even as the irritation simmering beneath his skin refused to fade.

“fine,” he muttered, forcing a tight smile. “just... crowds.”

you frowned, your brow furrowing in concern. “we can leave anytime, you know. i don’t mind.”

“we’re not leaving just because i’m uncomfortable,” he replied, his tone sharper than he intended.

your eyes softened, the corner of your mouth twitching like you wanted to argue but decided against it. “okay. but let me know if you change your mind.”

he nodded, looking away before the guilt could settle too deeply. you didn’t deserve his moodiness, not when you were trying so damn hard to make this night bearable for him.

the tipping point came about an hour later.

you’d drifted away to grab drinks while bucky stayed near the edge of the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he scanned the crowd. he wasn’t keeping tabs on you - at least, that’s what he told himself - but when he spotted you talking to someone near the bar, his chest tightened.

the guy was tall, with an easy smile and a smug air about him that bucky instantly disliked. he leaned a little too close to you, his hand brushing your arm as he said something that made you laugh - a laugh bucky didn’t like hearing from someone else.

bucky’s jaw clenched. he didn’t have a claim to you, not really, but the sight still ignited something possessive and raw. before he realized what he was doing, he was striding across the room.

“everything okay here?” his voice came out rougher than he intended as he positioned himself at your side, his broad frame cutting off the guy’s view of you.

your eyes widened slightly in surprise, but you recovered quickly, flashing him a smile. “bucky. we were just talking about the gala.”

“right,” bucky said flatly, his gaze locked on the guy, who had the audacity to look amused.

“well,” the man said, taking a step back, “i’ll leave you two to it. nice meeting you, y/n.”

bucky didn’t relax until the guy disappeared into the crowd.

“jealous much?” you teased, though your tone was light.

“he was flirting with you,” bucky muttered, his arms crossing over his chest.

“so? it’s not like I’m actually your - ” you stopped yourself, your cheeks flushing slightly as the words hung between you.

“not my what?” he pressed, his voice quieter now, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

you glanced away, fiddling with the stem of your glass. “nothing. forget it.”

but he couldn’t. the way your voice had faltered, the way your teasing confidence had momentarily slipped - it stuck with him, unsettling in a way he wasn’t ready to unpack.

later, the two of you found a quieter corner of the venue, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. you’d kicked off your heels, perching on the edge of a low bench with your legs tucked beneath you. bucky sat beside you, his tie loosened and his jacket draped over the back of his chair.

“sorry if i made things weird earlier,” he said after a long stretch of silence.

you glanced at him, your expression unreadable. “you didn’t.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i just... i don’t like seeing people treat you like that.”

“like what?”

“like you’re something they can just... have,” he said, his voice rough. “you deserve better than that.”

your gaze softened, a small smile tugging at your lips. “you’re sweet, you know that?”

“don’t tell anyone,” he muttered, earning a quiet laugh from you.

for a moment, the weight between you seemed to lift, replaced by something lighter. but then your laughter faded, and your smile turned wistful.

“sometimes i wonder if this is all i’m good for,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “being the girl people want to flirt with at parties. the fun one, the easygoing one. it’s like... no one really takes me seriously,” your voice getting quieter and quieter as you spoke.

bucky’s chest ached at your words, the vulnerability in your tone cutting deeper than he expected. without thinking, he reached for your hand, his calloused fingers brushing against yours.

“you’re more than that,” he said firmly. “you’re smart, and strong, and... you make people feel like they matter. you make me feel like i matter.”

your eyes met his, wide and searching, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“bucky...” you started, your voice unsteady.

“look, i know this was supposed to be fake,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “but i don’t think i’m pretending anymore.”

you stared at him, your expression unreadable, and for a terrifying second, he thought he’d ruined everything. but then you leaned closer, your free hand resting lightly on his cheek.

“finally,” you smiled, your voice barely above a whisper.

and then, before he could overthink it, you closed the distance, your lips brushing softly against his. it wasn’t a grand, sweeping kiss - just a gentle meeting of mouths, tentative and full of unspoken promises.

when you pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, but there was a smile in your eyes.

“guess we’re both bad at pretending,” you said softly.

“damn right,” he replied, his lips twitching into a small, lopsided grin.

and for the first time that night, the air between you felt light again, the tension replaced by something warm and new. 

the drive back to your place was quieter than usual. not tense, exactly - more like the air was holding its breath, waiting for one of you to shatter the silence. you fiddled with the strap of your clutch, glancing at bucky out of the corner of your eye. his hands were steady on the wheel, his jaw tight, but his gaze flicked toward you every few seconds like he was making sure you were still there.

you finally broke the silence. “you don’t have to walk me up, you know.”

“didn’t ask if i had to,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

you couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. even now, with your head spinning from the events of the evening, he had a way of grounding you, steady and unshakable. 

when he parked outside your building, he killed the engine and rounded the car before you even had a chance to unbuckle. ever the gentleman - or at least, his gruff version of one. 

the elevator ride up to your apartment was quiet, the tension from earlier creeping back in. when the doors slid open, you led the way, fumbling with your keys as you tried to ignore the warmth of his presence behind you. 

“you sure you’re okay?” he asked as you pushed the door open.

“yeah,” you said quickly, stepping inside. “just... long night.”

he hesitated in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space like he wasn’t quite ready to leave. you turned to face him, your lips parting to say something - what, you weren’t sure - but the words stuck in your throat. 

his eyes were darker in the soft light of your apartment, the usual cool blues tinged with something deeper, something unreadable. 

“you want me to go?” he asked, his voice quieter now, rougher around the edges. 

you shook your head before you could stop yourself. “no. i mean... stay. if you want.”

you weren’t sure when it happened - when the air between you shifted again, from awkward and unspoken to charged with something electric. maybe it was the way he hovered near the kitchen while you made tea, his shoulders tense like he didn’t know where to put himself. or maybe it was the quiet gratitude in his voice when you handed him a cup, your fingers brushing for half a second too long.

“you don’t have to stay,” you said again, softer this time. “i know this whole thing has been... a lot.”

he snorted, taking a sip of his tea. “you think i can’t handle a few idiots and bad wine?”

“i think you can handle anything,” you replied, the words slipping out before you could overthink them.

he looked at you then, really looked at you, and the weight of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. 

“you shouldn’t say stuff like that,” he said quietly, his tone unreadable.

“why not?”

“because,” he said, setting his cup down on the counter, “i’m trying real hard not to cross a line here.”

your heart skipped a beat. “what line?”

he let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair. “the one where i stop pretending this is fake and start wanting things i’m not supposed to want.”

“bucky...” his name came out softer than you intended, barely more than a whisper. 

he took a step closer, his boots heavy against the hardwood floor. “tell me to go,” he said, his voice low and rough. “because if you don’t, i’m not sure i can keep pretending.”

but you didn’t tell him to go. instead, you closed the space between you, your hand finding his like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“i don’t want to pretend either,” you admitted, your voice shaking with the weight of the words. 

he stared at you for a long moment, like he was searching for something in your expression. then, without another word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again.

the kiss was nothing like the one at the gala - nothing tentative or unsure about it. this was heat and certainty, his lips moving against yours like he’d been holding back for far too long. his hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. the world narrowed to just the two of you, the quiet hum of the city outside your window fading into nothingness. 

when he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“you sure about this?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

you nodded, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest. “are you?”

he let out a quiet laugh, the sound vibrating beneath your palms. “fuck yeah.”

you giggled, leaning up to press another kiss to his lips, softer this time, like you had all the time in the world. and for once, it felt like maybe you did.

later, you found yourselves tangled on the couch, your legs draped across his lap as his arm rested along the back of the cushions. the tea you’d made had gone cold on the coffee table, forgotten in the haze of everything that had happened.

“so,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. “what happens now?”

he glanced at you, one brow quirking in that way that always made your heart do stupid little flips. “what do you mean?”

“i mean... this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “us.”

he shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “guess we figure it out.”

“that’s it? no grand plan?”

“plans don’t usually work out for me,” he said simply, his tone light but laced with something heavier.

you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “then we’ll take it one step at a time.”

he squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “sounds good to me.”

the night stretched on, the city quieting outside as the minutes slipped by. you weren’t sure when you drifted off, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around you like he was afraid you’d disappear. but when you woke up to the first rays of morning light filtering through the window, he was still there, his breathing slow and steady beneath you.

for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly as it should.

ᰔ bucky barnes : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

@yvespecially, @hhiggs, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd, @superlegend216

@withasideofmeg, @pvndomi, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @hazydespair

@aoi_targaryen, @person-005, @corvuscattus, @uncertified-doc

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[fatliberation]

Sorry for leaving this in your inbox, but I need to vent and ask for advice in a place where people won't mock me. What do you do when sex is super difficult because of your fat? I've recently gotten into my first relationship and. I thought I had a handle on my internalized fatphobia and self hate but this has made it worse than ever. We can't have satisfying penetrative sex (we've tried all the tips and workarounds. Nothing works. I'm larger than most of the FA community.), and recieving oral sex is also difficult for me. I also get tired and sweaty extremely quickly if I have to like hold up myself on mostly my arms or something, so he has to do most of the work. So sex is just. Mostly the one that works on repeat, and we don't have it very often because it isn't that fun for either of us, and it also makes me cry afterwards sometimes because of how disappointing it is & me beating myself up over it.

I'm genuinely worried my boyfriend is going to leave me for this. He's clearly very frustrated with the situation, even though he tries to be nice about it most of the time. Earlier today I tried to like be flirty and hint at stuff and he just. got a bit sad. and then said that clearly neither of us enjoy the sex we're having and that he has a lot of trouble staying hard.and that he doesn't see the point when we're both forcing it for no reason. I think he's going to break up with me soon. His ex is way lighter than me, so he's probably comparing the normal sex he had with her with whatever the fuck this abnormal shitshow is :/

All the work I've done on myself to be happy with being fat (including working up the courage to date, what a mistake that was lmao) is all gone. This has ruined my self-esteem so much. I feel like one of those fatphobic jokes but a person.

first and foremost, please try your best to remember this: your body is not the problem. one more time. your body is not the problem. I'm so very sorry you're concerned that your boyfriend would leave you over this. it sounds like he has a lot of preconceived ideas about how sex is supposed to go. I promise you that it doesn't have to be this way. if this is something that could really end the relationship, know that this person is not compatible or open to exploring your needs, rather than your needs being "too difficult." I promise it's him, not you. I know folks who are 600+ pounds who have excellent sex lives and partners who satisfy them and enjoy satisfying them. when someone starts treating your pleasure like a chore, that's just shitty. I know how much it hurts. it also does damage to your own openness to pleasure. when you're caught up in feeling like sex/your body is something that needs to be "fixed," nothing is going to feel sexy, because all that pressure puts stress on and takes you out of the mental state where you're able to experience pleasure. does that make sense? so many couples get stuck in this cycle.

there are so many ways to engage in pleasure without penetration or orgasm. there's a lot that goes into foreplay, setting a mood, making your partner feel appreciated and attractive. words and touch play a huge part in this. something as simple as exploring each other's bodies, not with the intention of reaching climax, but simply to be vulnerable and engage each others' senses. have your partner give you a massage. play with your hair. tickle your back with a feather. shower together. kiss you. compliment you. if either of you are into any kinks or dirty talk, that could be a great way to engage each other sexually without the pressure of "achieving" a goal. the goal here is just to feel good, close, and connected. societal messaging about sex has placed so much importance on orgasm instead of pleasure - when taking the time and space to relax and receive attention, is key.

feel free to check out my other posts on fat sex ed, there's lots of assistive toys that can make pleasure more accessible, but I think that should be a tool for later, since the biggest issue here is the pressure to perform. know that pleasurable sex can exist for you! but for now, I would recommend taking a break from sex altogether since it is not pleasurable for you right now. because pleasure is the whole point. forcing it is only going to feel worse. you do not owe it to your boyfriend, especially if it doesn't feel good and is taking an emotional toll. I hope you both are able to take a step back, reassess and communicate, and are able to reconnect and create a safe space to explore.

I understand why you're beating yourself up over this, I've been there too. but also know that it's just another societal standard that's been internalized (and it doesn't sound like your boyfriend is helping). like you said, you've done a lot to unlearn fatphobia. there's a lot of internalized beliefs we absorb from society surrounding sex, just like body image. I promise that there is nothing wrong with you. If your boyfriend takes his frustration out on you instead of making you feel safe to express your needs, then he's not a supportive partner. you deserve someone who takes delight in your pleasure and your body. believe me, we're out there.

[vidavalor]

<<On the less horny side, "wearing the horns" (also a predecessor to bunny ears) has another meaning entirely.>>

Yes. Something, something The Ineffable Quartet choosing each other when the demons are considered by Heaven/Hell to be Satan's property and the angels are not supposed to have lives of their own and, instead, to be effectively married to God and do whatever The Metatron claims is the will of God... it's a matter of perspective as to who is being cuckholded here.

Absolutely to all of the record references!!!

Journal in journalist! Nice catch. It also gets at something I think is wordplay-ish, which is the fact that Aziraphale calls his journal a diary. I know some English people do but a diary in the UK has also traditionally been more of a day planner. Speculation being that one of the reasons why Aziraphale keeps a diary is as a record of his life in the event of memory loss would then also make him calling it a die-ary darkly funny. His various licenses-- the non-euphemistic ones lol-- are also forms of records, too.

You've got me thinking now too about how artistic works are also records-- Jemimah's pot, the Gabriel statue... The Gabriel statue is this weird record of Gabriel's existence and it's more about who he is supposed to be than who he actually is. Records being made for him, not by him. He's not being seen through the statue-- it's actually making it harder for people to see him. A record he's not really in control of or giving permission for, which is also the case when he's being recorded by the people on Whickber Street when he arrives at the bookshop.

In Heaven, after he gets cast out, he's basically then just a file folder with a handful of papers to them, onto which has been handwritten re: the matter of Gabriel. The funny visual pun of Muriel putting their hand through the file folder-- the matter of Gabriel not containing any matter they can access, literally and figuratively.

It's also an interesting word nod back to Gabriel's dry "I don't sully the celestial temple of my body with rose matter" in 1.01. [Preemptive response before someone yells at me as they have every other time I've mentioned this scene: yes, it's "rose matter" that Gabriel says in response to Aziraphale offering him tea. His face says he thinks it's gross but he says 'rose'. We duel at dawn lol.]

If we go with the words-within-words here, too, within the word record are the words rec, short for recreation, aka play, and cord-- a tether, part of a knot, but, maybe, also a noose, if it's S2's no nightingales season and we're talking about C&A-- and cord's homophone of chord. Words about music and playing in the word record itself. 😊 Records are also discs-- the halo & the Discworld. [The discs on the walls in the scene below, too.]

Beez "likes this song." What song? "The music that's playing now."

Beez likes "Everyday", yes, but "Everyday" is also just a way to tell Gabriel that they like this thing between them, that they like being with him. They-- the two of them-- are the music and they're playing now-- out having some fun together-- and Beez likes it. The song/record contains useful information, as you pointed out that Beez pointed out. This song is a record that they've elected to make themselves, much healthier than the statue and the records of Heaven & Hell. Beez sees Gabriel for who he is and they like him and this song that they're writing together. The two of them use a record to agree they like making music. 😊

Then, the literal song now always there on the jukebox for Beez, especially in case of something happening to Gabriel, but the real thing being said being that Gabriel is the song that will always be there for Beez.

So, Aziraphale arrived in Edinburgh with a briefcase we never see him open and a hat that reads, among other things, "PRESS 66" on it, right?

And we might think that these are just Aziraphale's journalist cosplaying accessories but I think there are some hints that there's a bit more going on here than we might think-- all of it very relevant to The Finale.

We think that Aziraphale's arrival in Edinburgh is the first time that we see these things but, in true Good Omens form, the hat and briefcase are both actually glimpsed in a prior scene... rather significantly placed in that earlier scene, even.

Here they are, sitting together, the hat atop the briefcase, both in front of Jimbriel's once Fly-containing box, beside/behind the memory-wiped Muriel, in the scene below:

So, as Muriel is sitting there, not remembering Aziraphale, and as Aziraphale is sitting there, remembering Muriel and thinking all the things about the fact that they don't remember him at all? In the shot between them is the box into which Jim put his memory and brought it to Crowley and Aziraphale for safe keeping. In front of that box? Is Aziraphale's press hat and briefcase, seemingly drawing some connections between the journalist accessories and the memory plots in S2. Hmm...

What this scene also shows is that Aziraphale didn't just magic this stuff up as props when he arrived in Scotland. Even though we didn't see them in the car on the way up, they were there on the passenger seat for him to retrieve upon his arrival. He brought them with him from the shop. He packed them overnight and they were there, all ready to go, prior to Muriel's arrival, which coincided with Crowley coming over and moving the plants out of the car because Aziraphale planned to take it to Scotland. Why does this matter?

Because it might signal that there's more to the briefcase and the hat with its press credentials than we might initially suspect.

I think it would be safe to say that Aziraphale, by this point in the story, would be concerned that his memories were in danger.

He knows he's always been on a collision course with falling and this is all escalating pretty quickly in S2 in the two days prior to Aziraphale packing this press stuff and taking the car. Gabriel was The Supreme Archangel and he couldn't remember who he was and the archangels had shown up to threaten them and say that they're going to be spying on him even more closely, sending another angel to bug them the next day... the memory-wiped Muriel being quite an interesting choice, as that's sending quite a threatening message. Aziraphale also had roped Maggie and Nina into this and he knew he was likely going to have a confrontation with Heaven and Hell coming.

One of the first things he'd be concerned about would be his memories, right? and it's here where we can mention what we later learn about what Heaven can and cannot do regarding those memories... things that are new to us but that Aziraphale likely would have already known and factored into his plan, as we'll see.

Hints are given to this all season via Gabriel but it really becomes overt in this scene here:

This scene proves that Gabriel's memories aren't just in The Fly in S2-- they're also still in his mind. His memories are shown to be in two places at once. Gabriel's memories-- ones even directly related to the trauma he underwent-- actually began to come back before The Fly, in this scene. Gabriel felt safe and like he was talking with someone who could understand in this scene with Crowley so the memories began to come back for him.

The point here is that this scene shows that, when Gabriel "took his memories out" and put them into The Fly, what he was really doing was basically backing them up. He "uploaded" his memories into The Fly for safekeeping so he could retrieve them later, as a way to keep it so that they wouldn't be erased forever, but those same memories are still also on the "hard drive" of his mind. They were just mostly inaccessible to him for almost all of S2 because of trauma.

Before you say well, Gabriel might be a special case because he took his own memories out to avoid Heaven attacking him? Consider that Crowley didn't have a chance to do that-- but he tells Gabriel he knows how Gabriel feels.

Crowley has had the same experiences with his own memories. He's been able to bring some back at different times, without a lot of context, but a lot remains blocked. Crowley saying that he's been able to retrieve some memories means that those memories are still there in his mind, just very painful and difficult to access.

The idea might be that their memory loss is actually trauma-blocking. If Crowley's situation has the same effect as Gabriel's, it suggests that Heaven can't actually take people's memories-- they can only block them.

This would then be suggesting, as a lot in S2 did, that Gabriel didn't develop retrograde amnesia from taking his memories out-- he developed amnesia from the trauma he underwent.

When he felt safe enough to confront some of that trauma, the memories started to come back to him a bit.

What does this have to do with Aziraphale's briefcase, you ask?

It is connected because Gabriel's memory loss being from the trauma of Heaven trying to kill him, not from putting his memories into The Fly, proves that an angel could take his out their memories and not get amnesia from doing so.

Gabriel's story is showing that they could take out their memories whenever they want and still retain those memories also in their minds and be perfectly fine.

It's showing that Aziraphale could have backed up his memories in S2 without experiencing memory loss-- and the press hat and the briefcase are tied to just how he might have done that.

Aziraphale might have taken one look at Gabriel and his memory situation and the archangels circling the shop and thought that it would be a good idea to backup his memories and store them somewhere safe for if this all went pear-shaped.

What's interesting is that then, in a parallel shot to Aziraphale arriving in Edinburgh, we have this later scene when Aziraphale returns to London... note what's missing:

We see him park by the suit shop-- but no suitcase/briefcase this time. No hat. He's also taken off the raincoat. We never see them again for the rest of the season but we see a whole bunch of scenes that hint at where they are and why Aziraphale has left them in that location.

In this moment, we spend a strange amount of time on watching Aziraphale get out of the car and look around, hands-free, pat The Bentley, go for a little walk for a moment...

He talks to Nina, he goes back to the bookshop and greets Crowley and gets an armful of plants. The Bentley is largely the focus of the scene with Nina as well and its moving up in a scene that involves Nina and her bicycle-- another "mad 'American' woman on a bicycle", in parallel to Anathema in S1-- recalls Aziraphale miracling a bike rack onto the boot of The Bentley to transport Anathema's bike back to Jasmine Cottage. The key to getting Anathema and her bike safely home to her cottage was the bike rack Aziraphale made happen; the key to getting him and Crowley safely to the South Downs Cottage might be what Aziraphale stashed in the trunk of the car on his trip.

Here's where we can see that scenes before and around this involving Shax and Crowley show us pretty emphatically where the briefcase and the press hat are not located in the car...

They can't be on the passenger seat as they were on the way to Edinburgh because Shax wouldn't have been able to sit there when she got into the car on the drive back from Edinburgh. They also can't be in the backseat because the scene adjacent to Aziraphale's return to London is he and Crowley loading the plants back into the backseat. Crowley would have handed him his things if they were back there.

So, we have all of these shots of Aziraphale's return that are, among other things, emphasizing that the hat, the raincoat, and the briefcase are all not things he's taking out of The Bentley's trunk upon his return, even if they are his belongings and he brought them with him from the bookshop. He's intentionally leaving them all in the Crowley's car.

Aziraphale definitely did not leave his memories in a briefcase in The Resurrectionist Pub, even though that's the last place we saw the briefcase. How do we know that?

Because let's say that we're right here and Aziraphale did put his memories into the briefcase... either into something else that he then locked into the briefcase or just into the briefcase itself. What's the one problem with this?

He locked them in there for safekeeping, right? So...

He can't just leave the briefcase for Crowley-- he also needs to leave the key to the briefcase, yes? He needs to leave the combination somewhere... but he also has to hide that combination key. The briefcase wouldn't be very safe if just anyone could figure out how to open it, right? It needs to be something only Crowley can understand.

This is why Aziraphale is not a private detective in Edinburgh but a journalist because the key is in the hat.

How does one open the locked briefcase?

Press 66. 😉

The briefcase and the hat go together because the briefcase cannot be opened without the press credentials in the hat which, in very Good Omens and Crowley & Aziraphale form, look like they're one thing but are really another when you consider alternate meanings of words. Aziraphale knows that only Crowley would see Aziraphale's hat atop that briefcase and the 'Press 66' and work out that it's how to open the briefcase.

It would also be very Good Omens to nod to famous film Macguffins and then make them actually important in Good Omens' story. While a "what's in the briefcase?" thing here is very Pulp Fiction, the film that inspired the briefcase in Pulp Fiction is 1955's atomic noir Kiss Me Deadly, which is being referenced all over the place in S2.

The scene where Aziraphale picks Shax up from the side of the road is a homage to Kiss Me Deadly's opening scene, Gabriel's memory issues and his "I am in The Fly" note is similar to part of the central mystery of that film, and Kiss Me Deadly is the origin of the popularization of the word vavoom/va-va-voom.

Like basically every other film referenced in Good Omens, it's also known for innovative use when it comes to language-- particularly, coded cinematic language, in this case. Like North by Northwest, which is referenced in both parts of 1941 so far, Kiss Me Deadly found innovative ways to get around the Hays Code to tell its story. References to The Maltese Falcon in the story are also likely in relation to that story using etymology-based language to queer code aspects of its story, in a similar way to Good Omens, but also that The Maltese Falcon itself is a bit of a MacGuffin. In Good Omens, though, it seems like they're actually winking at those by making Macguffin-alluding things actually important parts of the story.

Anyway, the biggest fan theory about what's in the briefcase in Pulp Fiction is based around the combination to the briefcase being 666 in the film and the idea is that it's Marcellus Wallace's soul, which he sold to the devil. Famously, the audience never sees what's inside the briefcase. We might be saying here that the combination to Aziraphale's briefcase being 66 may be nodding to Pulp Fiction's briefcase a bit and hinting at the Satan in The Final 15 ideas. 66 is also tied to Route 66 and rock 'n roll in America, Buddy Holly, and the paralleling Gabriel & Beez flashback, maybe especially hinting at memory-related things happening with the briefcase.

I won't spoil you on what's in the briefcase in Kiss Me Deadly but let's just say that it goes along with Good Omens pretty well thematically... in a much, much darker way. The film being very bleak noir makes it very different in tone from Good Omens but the fact that the briefcase is actually is relevant to the story in the end of that film might also hint that Aziraphale's disappeared briefcase might wind up being important in The Finale, too.

Adding to this theory is also that another briefcase in The Bentley's trunk/boot was also something shown earlier in S2-- on a very significant night in Crowley & Aziraphale's history:

When Aziraphale is in Edinburgh, we see him intentionally hamming up his newspaper man persona and, in doing so, he takes the briefcase into The Resurrectionist Pub, right? Bit of foreshadowing there as to what will happen to Aziraphale and what will need to happen to bring him back?

Yes, we don't see the briefcase again after this scene but I doubt he left it in the pub because it would be useless to Crowley without the hat, on which Aziraphale has hidden the briefcase combination hidden in plain sight. Aziraphale was seen wearing the hat in one scene set after we last saw the briefcase, proving that both of them and the raincoat are in the trunk of The Bentley:

Aziraphale wore this whole get up to Edinburgh so that, if anyone was watching him, they'd think he was Muriel-like cosplaying a newspaper man. I mean... we know the trench coat is a little Columbo-esque, but why wouldn't he just be a private detective and not a journalist, if the goal was just to play a role to help solve the Gabriel mystery? Because he had to be a old movie-esque journalist so he could have the word press there in the credentials, only for its other meaning for the briefcase combination.

Aziraphale definitely had a whole other list of motivations for being the one to go to Edinburgh. He wanted Crowley to rest in the shop and to talk to Gabriel, he wanted to be the one to go tackle the mystery, and he wanted to work on his 1827 issues by going to the graveyard again... but we might find we can add to that list that he also realized it would be a good opportunity to hide his memories in a briefcase in The Bentley with actions that are right there, in plain sight of anyone who is watching-- including us 😉-- but might not be deemed suspicious.

Parallel-wise, the briefcase and The Bentley are the matchbox and the moving box and PRESS 66 is Aziraphale's equivalent to I AM IN THE FLY... all before Aziraphale and Crowley actually figured out what Gabriel and Beez did to protect Gabriel.

He's pressing on the press hat he's leaving for Mr. Six Shots of Espresso... 😂 The press card is in his hat, like a feather... Crowley's "it'd be a real feather in your cap wing" joke from the foreshadowing "I'll be damned"/"It's not so bad when you get used to it" scene in 1.01...

That demon doesn't know it yet but he's driving around with Aziraphale in the trunk because Aziraphale figured out how to get around the worst case scenario. He knew he was on a collision course with falling and he found a way to potentially dodge the memory loss by stashing his memories for Crowley in The Bentley.

His enthusiasm in Edinburgh is him barely able to contain his amusement at getting one over on anyone watching him who think they know what they're seeing but don't realize what he's actually up to.

No wonder why he was walking on air when he got back to London-- it was mission accomplished. He'd managed to leave Crowley the ability to bring him back, tucked away in the safest spot possible.

The bookseller who, like the others, is a metaphorical book/paper, left their out for Heaven and Hell trying to kill him for Crowley's safekeeping in a briefcase... the thing people use for...

...paperwork. 😂

But wait... there's one other big question, though, yes?

Why didn't Aziraphale tell Crowley this?

There absolutely was enough time and opportunity to tell Crowley he'd backed up his memories and left them in The Bentley's trunk.

The fact that this didn't come up seems wild, right, because they both know that Crowley has been having a steady anxiety attack about Heaven and Hell circling all week. We would think that, if Aziraphale had figured out this plan to circumvent that threat, the first thing he would have done would be to tell Crowley about it, yes?

Except... while I wrote this meta from the perspective of what the end result of Aziraphale's actions with the briefcase might be in The Finale, I don't actually think that was Aziraphale's own motivation for doing what he did.

Aziraphale didn't take out his memories and leave them in the briefcase in The Bentley for Crowley as a backup plan for them to elude a form of death for Aziraphale.

He left them there for Crowley to find and have after Aziraphale was already gone. Why else would Crowley need the combination on the credentials on the hat, right?

If Aziraphale had intended on his memories in the briefcase being a plan to save himself, he would have told Crowley about it so that Crowley would know. Instead, though, it's something of a suicide note. He left them for Crowley to find and have in the future.

I think The Bentley was even warning of this suicide ideation and showing concern upon the return to London for Aziraphale over what he had put in its trunk. The car is worried. [I love Good Omens-- when else am I going to type a sentence like that? 😂]

Aziraphale first parked it in front of Battye [madness] & Palm [to take]. It's a shop reflective of a lot of that depression and suicide ideation happening in Aziraphale's story and leading to his fall that I looked at in The Devil Takes The Hindmost.

The Bentley then drives itself-- and all Aziraphale's Aziraphaleness in the briefcase-- up a few feet. What is The Bentley then aligning Aziraphale with?

Death.

The car parked itself in front of the Give Me Death half of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death...

... until Aziraphale told it to go back to where he parked it. Then, The Bentley backed up a few feet to Battye & Palm and all the madness that is the rest of the season. The car was foreshadowing the end, parking itself right along where it would be parked the last time we'd see it in S2.

The trunk is aligned with Give Me Death in The Final 15...

...fulfilling the foreshadowing of the end of S1.

[ptergwen]

hi ! i had a dream like this so idk if its too specific or anything hut could u write a fluff/angst about reader being in a beach holiday with family/peter, theyre at the beach swimming and being all cute underwater and stuff- peter tries to hold/grab reader and accidentally hurts them bc of his super strength. theyre mad at him for a bit but they make up that night with heaps of fluff, cuddles, words of affirmation-ect. sorry if thats dumb fhdgdgf thank youuu <33

a boy who's jacked and kind

w/c: tba

warnings: a very sorry and sad peter, like two swears

a/n: peep the sabrina reference hehe i had a lot of fun with this one! decided to make it a beach day with friends, i hope that's okay & you enjoy <3

"marco!"

"polo!"

you and your friends scatter around the ocean while peter tries to catch you. you're at the beach for the day, which is exciting because you don't get to go often living in the city. peter pushes through the water with his eyes closed, hands outstretched in front of him. if he catches one of you, he wins.

"marco!"

peter is getting closer to you and ned. mj is the farthest away, deeper into the ocean. she silently signals for the two of you to swim towards her.

"polo!"

you all shout in unison. ned wades through the water frantically, mj continuing to swim in the opposite direction. you're not as quick to pick up on her guidance. you won't be able to make it to the two of them without peter catching you, so you keep swimming the other way.

"marco!"

"polo!"

ned and mj sound kind of far, but you seem to be close. peter follows your voice with a smirk, eyes still squeezed shut.

"marco!"

you can hear peter getting close from behind you.

"polo!"

you look behind your shoulder to see peter nearing you.

"go, y/n!" mj shouts. "run!" ned echoes.

"marco!"

you can't help but let out a giggle as peter gets closer and closer. you leave the water and start running on the wet sand, your boyfriend right on your trail.

"polo!"

peter tackles you from behind, pushing you down and landing beside you. you squeal and land in the sand, hard. it knocks the wind out of you. peter laughs softly and rolls on top of you.

"i win."

your lip quivers a bit, tears pricking your eyes reflexively from the pain of the fall. peter's cocky demeanor instantly changes, going into concerned boyfriend mode.

"baby, what's wrong?"

he catches a stray tear with his thumb, his lips forming a frown.

"why're you crying?"

peter's thumb caresses your cheek. you shoo his hand away.

"i’m not, that just fuckin' hurt. can you get off me?"

peter rolls off of you, watching you get to your feet with furrowed brows.

"oh no, baby, i'm sorry. i just got caught up in the game... i didn't realize how hard i pushed you."

"you have super strength, peter."

you brush the sand off yourself, sniffing back a mixture of salt water and snot. peter's voice quiets.

"sometimes i forget."

"yeah, i know. it's fine."

"but i feel bad." peter stands up. "are you okay?"

he reaches for your hand. you shrug and pull it away, crossing your arms over your chest.

"i'm fine, pete. just gimme a little while."

mj and ned meet you and peter on the sand. they form a circle with you, peter staying back. his eyes remain fixed on you, filled with worry.

"what happened, you let penis parker win? i thought we had a plan," mj jokes. "yeah, why'd you go rogue? we were supposed to stick together," ned agrees.

"i went the other way 'cause i wasn't gonna get to you guys fast enough, then peter tackled me."

their gazes shift over to peter, who sheepishly scratches the back of his neck.

"dude!" ned punches peter's shoulder playfully. "major foul."

"it was an accident," peter mumbles, rubbing his shoulder.

"sure it was," mj deadpans.

peter is looking at you again, but you avoid looking at him. mj picks up on the tension between the two of you.

"hey, you good?"

"i'm kinda annoyed at peter. it hurt when he pushed me. i know he didn't mean to, but still, you know?"

"what a dumbass. come on, let's go get ice creams or something."

you give mj a half smile, throwing an arm around her shoulders. mj flips peter off as you two pass by him. ned starts yapping to peter about building the perfect sandcastle, but he doesn't listen. he's too distracted by his guilt over hurting you.

-

you're sleeping over at peter's later that night. you'd gotten back from the beach a little while ago, and nothing sounds better than cuddling up in bed with him. he had been trying to give you space since the tackling incident, careful not to be too touchy out of fear of hurting you again.

you feel bad for being kind of cold to him. even though you were upset in the moment, you got over it. you miss him being his usual touchy self. it's peter who's been choosing to distance himself.

peter lets you shower first, then he takes one. he finds you waiting on his bed after. you're wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of boxers.

"c'mere, i wanna cuddle."

"you sure?"

"of course. why wouldn't i be?"

"i just wanna make sure you have enough space. y'know, after earlier."

you groan.

"i’m serious, y/n. i hate that i hurt you."

"peter," you stand up.

"and i’m sorry. really, really sorry. i’m never gonna let anything like that happen ever again, okay? i wasn't thinking."

"i know, peter. accident's happen, baby."

your arms circle around peter's shirtless torso. he doesn't trust himself to hold you just yet, so he keeps his arms at his sides.

"just because it was an accident doesn't make it okay."

you take peter's arms yourself and wrap them around you. his doe eyes meet yours. you hold his gaze reassuringly, an arm around his neck and a hand cupping his cheek.

"i like that you have super strength."

"you do?"

"yeah. it makes me feel safe, knowing you can always protect me. plus, you've got big arms. that's hot."

peter chuckles, perking up at that.

"sometimes you can't help how strong you are. i get it, pete. it's not your fault."

you nudge peter's nose with yours. peter moves in closer to you, letting out a sigh of relief. he kisses your forehead, lips lingering there for a moment.

"thank you. i love you."

"i love you, too."

you leave a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

"sorry i was kinda mean to you earlier. it was just my first reaction."

"no, no. it's okay, baby. i’m the only one who should be sorry."

"stop apologizing. you don't have to be sorry anymore."

"but i am. i’m still really sorry i-"

you shove at peter's chest, making him fall backwards onto the bed, mimicking the way he tackled you earlier. you straddle his lap and take his face in your hands, giggling. peter carefully holds you on top of him by your sides. you lean forward so you're face to face.

"i forgive you."

you connect yours and peter's lips. he happily kisses you back, smiling into it.

tags (old taglist y'all sorry, gotta make a new form!):

@idkeverythingistakennn @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @mystic-writings @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @elllebutnotwoods @magicalxdaydream @tayyx @parkerdadda @valluvsu @ronweasleysslut @peterficrecs @winchestersgirl222 @sunf1ower-vol6 @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @niktwazny303 @marvelgurl @thismessymasterpiece @alina02 @sapphic_romanoff @itsjanedeluca @lomlbuckyy @prancerrparkerr @urfayevorite @getwellsoontana

[mixolya]

beneath the stars, we became one: chapter 013.

rin sat on the bench outside your apartment building, his posture straight, elbows resting lightly on his knees. the digital clock on his phone glowed 2:00 PM, but he didn't seem rushed, his gaze fixed calmly on the street ahead.

you spotted him as soon as you stepped outside, his figure unmistakable even from a distance. instead of calling out, you decided to have a little fun. walking toward him quietly, you stopped just behind the bench and reached out, touching his head.

rin flinched, his shoulders jumping slightly as he turned to look at you, startled.

"relax, it's just me," you said with a grin, stepping around the bench to face him.

"what was that for?" he muttered, brushing his hair as though to fix it.

"couldn't resist," you said with a shrug, tilting your head as you took in his ruffled expression. "you looked too serious just sitting here like that."

rin let out a soft huff and stood up. "you're late."

"it's 2:01," you said, glancing at your watch with a raised brow. "also, you ditched me for two hours last time."

rin shot you a look. "that's gonna be your argument forever, huh?"

you grinned. "yep, it's a good one."

he rolled his eyes, clearly not bothered, but a small smile tugged on his lips. "fine, fine. let's just go."

as you walked together toward the arcade, the buzz of excitement in the air grew louder. the streets were busy, filled with people and the sounds of city life, but you were caught up in the easy conversation with rin. everything felt effortless, like this was just how things were supposed to be.

suddenly, a bike whizzed past you at high speed, and before you could even react, rin grabbed your arm, pulling you toward him with surprising speed. you stumbled slightly, but he held you steady.

"careful," he muttered, his gaze still fixed on the bike speeding way.

you blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden pull. "thank you," you said, meeting his gaze. "how did you notice the bike but not me sneaking toward you? did you want me to do that?" you teased.

"you're lucky it wasn't worse," he replied, his hand still gripping your arm.

you gave him a smile. "such a gentleman. who would've thought the cold itoshi rin is such a cutie!" you said, watching him roll his eyes in response.

rin let out a small sigh, but didn't say anything as he turned to walk toward the arcade entrance.

rin's hand was still gripping your arm, and neither of you seemed to notice as you walked together toward the entrance. the bustling noise of the arcade grew louder with each step, but it wasn't the flashing lights or the games that caught your attention. it was the way his hand held yours, a slight warmth that made your heart skip a beat.

you glanced over at him, but he was staring straight ahead, his usual stoic expression in place. it almost felt like an accident - like he didn't even realize it, but you weren't about to bring it up. why would you destroy this moment?

instead, you kept walking in silence, your steps in sync, as if this was a normal, everyday occurrence. as if you were dating for almost two years now.

as you reached the entrance, rin finally let go of your arm to open the door. did he finally realize he was holding your arm the whole time?

the arcade's neon lights flashed in front of you. the sounds of beeping machines, the laughter of other players, and the occasional sound of coins clinking filled the air. you took a deep breath, the excitement of being here with rin making your heart race a little faster than usual.

rin glanced at you. "so, what do you want to do first?"

you didn't waste any time. your eyes immediately landed on a claw machine at the far end of the arcade, filled with a collection of plushies. one plush, in particular, caught your eye: a fluffy, grumpy-looking cat with big eyes. it was so cute, you couldn't resist.

"that one," you said, tugging on his sleeve. "we're getting this one."

rin glanced at the machine. "these things are scams, you know that right? they never work".

you shook your head, determined. "yeah? I'll show you."

you slipped a coin into the machine, grabbed the joystick, and carefully aimed the claw toward the plushie. the claw dropped and missed by a mile.

"oops," you said, trying again. this time, the claw barely even brushed the plush.

rin leaned against the machine, arms crossed, watching with a hint of amusement in his eyes. you tried again, and again, and again. after several failed attempts, you let out a frustrated sigh, slumping against the machine.

"okay, your turn," you grumbled, stepping aside.

rin smirked, nonchalantly stepping up to the machine. without even hesitating, he dropped a coin into the slot and moved the joystick with precise movements. the claw descended perfectly, grabbed the plushie, and brought it up to the chute in one smooth motion.

he held the plushie out to you. "told you it's a scam."

you stood there, pouting but unable to hide your admiration. "HOW DID YOU DO THAT, RINNIE??"

rin looked at you, unfazed. “it’s simple, really,” he said, as though he’d just completed some basic task. “you just need to know how to position the claw.”

you stared at the plushie, then at him, your mouth slightly agape. “you’re impossible,” you muttered, still in awe. “you make it look so easy.”

he shrugged, clearly enjoying the moment. “i told you it was a scam,” he repeated, but his voice softened just enough for you to catch the hint of pride. “you’ll get the hang of it.”

you crossed your arms, feigning annoyance. “yeah, well, you still have some weird, unspoken powers. there’s no way anyone can be that good on their first try.”

rin chuckled, a rare sound that made your heart skip a beat. “you’re just bad at it,” he teased, leaning back against the machine with the plushie in his hands.

you grinned and reached for the plush, taking it from him and cuddling it to your chest. “thanks for the plush, but i’ll still beat you next time.”

“we’ll see about that,” rin replied, his tone playful but still laced with that usual coolness.

you smiled to yourself, not minding at all that he was unbeatable at claw machines. being here with him, joking around, and seeing him like this—was enough for you.

the bright lights and sounds of the arcade faded as you and rin walked out, having spent a good while trying your luck at different games. you were both grinning, a rare moment of easy camaraderie between you.

“so, that was actually kind of fun,” you admitted, still smiling.

rin shot you a glance, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “you didn’t seem so sure when we started.”

you shrugged playfully. “well, I didn’t expect you to be so good at the claw machine.”

“it’s not a skill, it’s just knowing how it works,” he replied, hands in his pockets as he stepped into the sunlight.

“yeah, yeah. just don’t get too cocky,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “I still have a plushie that you won’t get.”

he raised an eyebrow. "I gave it to you though?"

you grinned mischievously, tapping the side of your head. “sure, you gave it to me, but I earned it.”

rin rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “yeah, sure. keep telling yourself that.”

you both shared a quiet laugh as you continued walking, the sounds of the arcade fading behind you.

“so, what’s next?” he asked, glancing at you with an almost amused expression.

you shrugged nonchalantly. “ice cream?” you suggested, already heading in the direction of the nearby ice cream shop.

“ice cream sounds fine,” rin replied, his voice steady, but there was a slight glint in his eyes. “but no more challenges, okay?”

you shot him a teasing smile. “no promises.”

once you arrived at the shop, you both picked out your flavors. rin chose something classic, vanilla, while you decided to try something new—a bold choice that caught your eye.

after a couple of licks, you paused, your face contorting slightly in disgust. “what… what is this?” you muttered, scrunching your nose.

rin raised an eyebrow, looking at your ice cream with mild curiosity. “what’s wrong with it?”

you shook your head dramatically. “it tastes like ass,” you deadpanned.

he tried to hide his smirk, but failed. “you seriously chose that one?”

“i thought it would be good!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration. “i was adventurous!”

rin looked at your distressed face, then at his own ice cream, before making a decision. without missing a beat, he swapped his cone with yours.

“you’re lucky I’m being nice,” he said, as you stood there stunned.

you blinked at him, then looked at the new flavor in your hand. “you’re a lifesaver, rin,” you said, feeling relief wash over you.

“yeah, yeah. just don’t pick something weird next time,” he muttered, a slight blush creeping up his neck.

you both continued walking, now with much more pleasant ice cream in hand, as the beauty of the sakura trees came into view. walking under the soft, pink blossoms, you couldn’t help but notice how serene everything felt.

“you look really beautiful under these trees,” rin said quietly, his voice unusually soft.

you blinked, surprised by his sudden compliment. your heart skipped a beat, and you tried to hide the blush that crept up your cheeks. “huh?" you managed to say, glancing at him.

"nothing," rin said, his gaze shifting ahead as he continued walking. the silence stretched between you, comfortable yet filled with an underlying tension.

after a few moments, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your heart still racing from his unexpected compliment. you glanced at him, catching his profile as he walked beside you.

“you look pretty too, rinnie,” you said softly, almost teasing but with a genuine warmth in your voice.

chapter 12 > here > chapter 014

back to masterlist ☆

my taglist is open <3

a/n: this is so rushed I'm so tired of written stuff I'm gonna continue w chat now

taglist: @byakgans @bluberrymochi17 @levihanmyotp @x3nafix @etojlee @chuuyalvover @reocidal @syarc0re @azinniyaa @vashyuu @rwbie @idexmids @giaalorine @modxbea @nensi @anqelkoz @sapph1r3x @yuukigyatgyat @morgyyyyyyy @azharyy @princesssae

© mixolya 2025.

[losrin]

s7 etho is my favourite etho hermitcraft era so far because of all the antics he pulled and all the noteblock music. it was definitely his experimental era and it seemed he had quite a bit of fun with everything, but i imagine having to do all the music he used with noteblocks must get tiring the further into the season

(i do agree that s10 etho feels much more comfortable doing things as he wants, and i love that for him)

before i went into his content i knew him as primarily a redstone guy and when grian visited his base in s7 i was so puzzled by the style he built in. <how does one build only an interior?> imagine the surprise when i watched him pick the ugliest colour combos and actually make them look good?? and when he actually only built his interior, never even got to do an exterior for his base before the season ended

his build style is most different from bdubs in that it leans into the more unrealistic nature of minecraft. he incorporates the quirkiness of minecraft physics (how different it is from real life) and its aesthetic into his builds, whereas, bdubs in general goes for a more realistic approach and builds like he's painting a realism painting (shadows, colours, composition, etc)

i love both styles. the things about etho's builds that really impress me are

how he makes the colour palettes work

they're not over the top, feel like something the average player can do, yet the rooms flow so well into one another and look great

how much he leans into logic and theories that helps him deduce how someone would look at his base and thus how he can make it look better (it really shows how methodical he is with his designs; i mean don't get me wrong i do think he has an artistic eye, but he does rely more on logic to make sense of how different designs affect the perception of the perceivers, what with sightlines and colour theory)

the incorporation of redstone and other mechanical bits into his builds

his builds just feel uniquely his, which is something that i don't think the other hermits did as well as early as s7. but bless all of them they're always improving

we also see (variarions of) the same monstrosity build style in his LP series, modded mc s2 and in later seasons of hermitcraft. my favourite of his builds so far in his LP series is the dragon egg vault. even just the room with all the skulk, shriekers, warped logs and fire look awesome. his principles of building are also carried over into his s9 base. it feels like his s7 base but with a twist (a soul speed-depth strider-dolphin grace floor)

•

i love how he may give the illusion that he's lowkey and laidback, and he is, in some ways, and that helps him get away with being a menace. being etho helps too i suppose

•

i really do wish he would do more noteblock music in later seasons. his noteblock era peaked in s7 and it's a shame. he still does noteblock music that might arguably be even better (tschaikowsky's 1812 overture?!!?!?! for s9 zedvancement perilous percussion, music for ravager rush), but i do miss when he used noteblock music as background track

•

finally: i was disappointed that we didn't get to see hermits playing hurtin hermits, so i'm kinda hoping he revisits that someday

(sorry this is so all over the place)

I've finished Etho's s7 hermitcraft so guess who's back with a slightly updated/slightly consolidated list of things about ethoslab I have noticed! or just enjoy!

(the previous list)

I have no idea when he learned to noteblock. I don't know if he knows. he knows how to noteblock tho. he's really good at it.

on that note, did you know that there is not a single piece of non-noteblock music in etho's s7 after the first episode? there might not even be any in the first episode. every single timelapse or montage is set to noteblock music

(he sang along to parts of his paper planes noteblock cover too. he was going shopping. I was entirely too delighted)

(also, there is some like...sitcom music theme that I don't know what show it's from. it's bothering me that I don't know. what you need to know is that throughout his s7 etho uses said sitcom theme as the transition before Shenanigans With Fellow Hermits clips play. his life is a sitcom. yes it is the noteblock version.)

I think that etho desperately needs minigames for enrichment. if he's not playing one he's working on one. he needs them and he will let them completely consume his life

the etho decked out 1 runs are hilarious, partially because it's funny to see him play it and realize how absolutely insane decked out 2 is, and how much of a madlad tango is. etho is still the same menace with great luck and skills. I had forgotten about the hole to the void in the middle out decked out 1 tho, that was a fun reminder

etho could make a career out of translating classic type games into minecraft. he kind of has, but it's a pattern.

he also keeps coming up with new games that are minecraft only and is good at figuring out how to balance them well.

again, king of minigames. he will in fact analyze them as much as possible. he caught on to the pattern of impulse's whack a mole game in like...2 rounds? maybe 3? he's good at pattern recognition and will put it to good use no matter the minigame

etho, I cannot stress this enough, is a little shit and enjoys being such. free glass is obviously an iconic moment, but I had forgotten about him scamming scar out of diamonds for "information" about the resistance, or about sneak-e-e's business model (you can't tax what you can't find!), or about how he kept being extremely ridiculous with beef in regards to record shop payments...the list goes on

etho is also very competitive. I mentioned this in the last list, but man...he joins like every single competition he can. he wants to win. he's not like, a sore loser, but he likes to win, and he'll get a little upset if he doesn't.

etho and beef have clearly known each other a long time and ngl I miss their interactions a bit. let them bother each other a bit more please. I want to see them trying to kill each other in ridiculous ways again please. or doing minigames together. they're so silly.

kind of similar, but etho loves getting a rise out of people and it is the best thing ever actually. it's fun watching him use dirty tricks to beat bdubs to sleeping for a prize. it's perfect actually.

that being said, I still really like when etho is just on his own working on stuff too. s7 has a lot of moments where etho will go "I'm gonna use this block palette!" and I will think "bro that's ugly" and then he will make an extremely cohesive build that I want to live in out of it. I think a good way to describe it is that for example bdubs is really good at detailed builds with texture and not much color, and a very realistic twist to them. etho is not afraid to use color at all, and embraces how the colors can work together or contrast. it's fascinating to watch and I love it.

he is also a redstone genius. I feel I am starting to understand how some things with redstone work. could I design something myself? absolutely not but I could work from a tutorial and not feel completely lost on why I have to use a dispenser and not a dropper now.

I think s7 etho is really experimenting a lot with style and how he wants to do things. he does a few more elaborate intros, for example, that are very planned out, but he also does a lot of the classic "hello everybody this is etho and welcome back to hermitcraft!" it's fun and it works, but I honestly feel he might be more confident in some ways now in s10, which is nice to see.

(side note—I think etho has some trouble with tone sometimes, where he really wants to make sure everyone's having a good time, but also he really wants to tease people. this works well with like Beef, who he's known a while, but especially in people he's known less he's quick to catch on if they take what he's saying too seriously, and clarify that he is teasing. it's nice to see tbh, just the clarity even with his audience)

speaking of llamas, I had not realized how recent some really big updates were. bamboo and pandas were new at the start of s7. the nether update came like halfway through?? I was more in the casual build side of mcyt at the time but man...I didn't realize how crazy that is to think about.

just...the way that etho visualizes builds is great. not just like, leaving space for farms, but filling in the spaces with a lot of details that make sense but also work with the space to cover anything it needs to AND to connect with the rest of the base. the sightlines thing is something I see a lot of other builders using but etho really uses them a lot in the Monstrosity in order to keep it from being Too Much as you walk through.

really just...he wants to have fun, and he wants to learn, and he wants to experiment and figure things out. if he can mess with some friends when he does it, that's a great bonus, yknow?

man. what a guy.

[yuurei20]

Lilia Facts Part 82: Lilia and Silver (pt11)

Lilia says that Silver will go after him for things like picking up a TV remote with his feet, and we see Silver ask Lilia not to stay up late playing video games, not to go too far with his pranks around the school, and he looks exasperated after Lilia declares that he will not be intervening with Sebek’s poor attitude towards the other students because “it’s much more fun this way!”

Silver’s wish for the Wish Upon a Star event is for Lilia to have a long life, in a conversation where we learn that Lilia does upside-down sit-ups from his bed canopy.

Silver says that he often finds himself wishing that Lilia could “live a very long happily ever after,” and he will be doing everything he can to pay him back for all that Lilia has done for him.

Lilia’s revelation that he will be retiring to the Land of Red Dragons to die in Book 7 is a shock for Silver, but Lilia says that his magic had been weakening since before he and Sebek were even born.

Silver asks what will happen to their home in Briar Valley and Lilia responds, “If you don't want to use it, then just let the forest take it again.” Silver says that he supposes that he will decide by the time he graduates.

Lilia enlists help from Silver and Sebek to clean out his bedroom at NRC and we get an example of how disorganized he is, keeping pocket change alongside tests from his first year at school, a broken keyboard, an expired coupon for a coffee shop and dried out nail polish all in a chest of drawers.

Silver questions if it is safe to let Lilia go alone to the Land of Red Dragons, wondering if it wouldn’t be better to accompany him after all.

[royal-chandler]

temporary/maybe permanent title is winter interlude. written for the lovely @caressthosecheekbones ✨

--

Henry is certain that he's only just fallen asleep when he’s nudged awake, Alex’s soft scratched voice at his ear and his hand giving Henry’s wrist a slight squeeze. Henry’s answer to his name is a long groan. 

“Hen, baby. Can you wake up for me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

Henry groans once more and burrows further into the pocket of warmth that’s been conjured from sleep, their thick cloud-like duvet, and Alex’s arms. He keeps his eyes shut and silently, drowsily wishes for Alex to concede. And of course, no such luck.

“I’ve got an amazing idea.”

“That for some ungodly reason can’t wait until morning?”

“It’s uh,” Henry feels Alex slightly shift away, imagines that he’s checking the nocturne glow of their bedside clock, “one thirty-six right now so technically...”

“Don’t even bother finishing that sentence.”

“Come on,” Alex draws out. He shakes Henry some more, as if he can transfuse enthusiasm through vibration or using Henry like a ketchup bottle that’s been sitting too long. “Come on, we’re losing starlight. Let’s get a move on.”

“Christ, Alex, what for?”

“It’s stopped snowing. We should go sledding.”

Henry snorts, incredulous in the quiet. “Fuck off.”

Clearly Alex has gone bonkers because there is no way on earth that Henry is dragging himself out of bed to charge down a hill of snow on a plastic death trap in freezing temperatures in the middle of the night. 

*

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Henry says, trudging through snow that’s at least twenty five centimetres deep at the rear of the White House. 

At Henry’s side and tugging him and his sledge the last bit to the crest of the hill, Alex says, “It'll be fun.”

“Ah, yes.” Henry nods. Editorialised with bone-dry sarcasm, he continues, “Whenever I think about fun, frostbite is the first thing that springs to mind.”

“It is nowhere near cold enough for that.” Alex brings up their joined hands. “Plus, you’ve got your little cute gloves on. You’re good.” 

The Aztec patterned gloves are secondhand from Alex, dug out of a closet cubby as he had pointedly made sure to mention that they were a gift from his abuela when he was thirteen and no longer fit. 

Alex had also emphasised that Henry didn’t need to give them back. That it was a transfer of ownership. And they are very nice, the fingerless sort that convert into mittens. The yarn stretches comfortably and the pouches slip over Henry’s fingers just right. 

“Everything will be fine,” Alex promises. He reaches out and clicks on Henry’s headtorch. His already lit grin is brilliantly illuminated. “Trust me.” 

“There’s no question of that,” Henry returns. “I only ask why this couldn’t wait for the daytime? You know, how it’s normally done.”

Alex simply shrugs, his grin gentling into something flagrantly affectionate. “Because right now it's like the world is just us.”

And fuck, what is Henry supposed to argue against that?

*

“How are you winning?!” Alex drags his sledge behind him with one hand and wildly gestures with the other. “You didn’t even want to do this. I did not plan on you winning.”

Above him and at the top of the hill already, Henry props an elbow on his now vertical vehicle that’s planted in the snow, watching Alex with amusement. His boyfriend is exceptionally precious when he pouts. “My being reluctant to sledging doesn’t mean I’m not skilled at it.”

“Best of seven,” Alex huffs upon arrival. 

“You have a problem. The terms were already agreed upon.”

“You scared?” 

Alex then proceeds to emit the noises of a fowl.

“Resorting to primary school tactics, are we?”

Alex only lifts his brow, his expression dancing with challenge.

“I'm going to need some proper motivation, darling,” Henry says, sliding on a smirk.

“I could be a victim of clichés and offer mind-melting sex if you win but you get that all the time anyway.”

Henry breaks into helpless laughter and agrees when he finds the cold air to do so. 

“So, instead, how about the next time I’m at the palace I take you up on those horseback lessons finally,” Alex says. 

“Truly? You’ve always seemed—uncomfortable around them.”

“Well they are huge, intelligent beasts that can buck me off and launch me god knows how many miles an hour into the air.”

“Dramatic." He pauses, shaking his head. "Really, Alex. You don’t have to.”

“You love it and it’s something we can do together. I’d like to try it out,” Alex says and he sounds sincere. “If I don’t enjoy the experience, I won't be shy about it.”

“And if you win? What do you want?”

“Here’s where I do get pervy."

"Of course."

"I win and you let me buy you a pair of cowboy boots and a Stetson and you wear them for me.”

“Nothing else, I’m assuming.”

“Anything else would get in the way, Henry.”

“You’re on.”

*

Minutes and minutes later, victory is Henry’s and he graciously accepts Alex’s request for a final run, plopping down on the front of Alex’s sledge when he makes a grabby motion for Henry, his legs open. Their combined weight rips them downslope, easily the record of the night. They’re a powdery pile at the bottom when they come to a stop short of the treeline with a sharp turn and tumble off the sledge. 

“You alright?” Henry asks. 

“I should be asking you. You’re the one who cushioned my fall. Am I smothering you?"

“It's all fine for now, love. You’ll be nursing my aching bruises later.”

“Obviously.” Alex animates the line of his brow. “Just call me the love doctor.”

“Won’t be doing that, thanks," Henry comments. Using his teeth—due to most of him being trapped under Alex—Henry yanks back the pouch of his right mitten. He assesses the snarled wreckage of Alex’s hair that’s been freed of the headtorch and clumsily combs through it with chilled fingers. There’s a small scratch by Alex’s temple. Henry thumbs away the paper-cut thin trace of red and finds Alex’s perfect eyes. “You didn’t let me win, did you?”

“Me? Never. I lost,” Alex insists, sweetly leaning his head into Henry’s touch. His adoration is spotless if not his honesty. “Life rolls on.”

Henry considers calling Alex out but a shiver distracts him, stalls his tongue. 

Alex’s arms around him tighten and with their physical arrangement, it’s plenty awkward. It’s also loving. He ridiculously presses a kiss to Henry’s wintry-wet palm. “Cold?”

Spellbound, Henry murmurs, “A bit, yeah.”

“I’ve got a way to get you warm,” Alex shares quietly. 

*

Henry moans and licks at his lips, chasing the flavor off his mouth. “This is sinful.”

“I know,” Alex says after a long sip from his UT mug. “Nothing beats Mexican hot chocolate.”

“And the amaretto? Ugh, chef’s kiss.”

“Discovered that little addition four Christmases ago.”

Henry smiles at him and eats another mini marshmallow. “The man’s a genius.”

“Yeah, my ideas aren’t all shit that will have us needing Icy Hot the next day,” Alex replies, his gaze dropping to where their sock feet share the spindle of a kitchen stool.

Henry lightly kicks him. Kicks him again to get his full attention. “Tonight wasn’t shit.”

“No?”

“No.”

Alex sighs, abandons his drink to rub at his stubbled jaw. “Snow felt like—like a fresh start. A renewal, I guess. Getting rid of yesterday. I know it’s not that easy, that it doesn’t work like that and it’s fucking stupid—”

His heart sore and swollen, Henry closes the distance that parts them, hushes Alex’s doubt with a slow and open kiss. He kisses past the cling of sugar and spice, until it’s clean. 

“I love you,” Henry says. His words are only a fraction of what he means but he knows Alex can read the spaces between. Thank you. It helps. You help.

“Love you still. Love you always.” Alex curls into him, his hand over Henry’s knee. 

He’s there. He’s there, Henry knows because he can read Alex’s spaces just as well.

--

please forgive any mistakes. i read over it but it was written very quickly. also, i’m fairly sure there are no hills behind the white house. the grounds are pretty flat but for some reason this fic insisted on being there.

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Thursday:

Giving Sig gray hairs for fun and profit (sorry, Sig, it's for a good cause)

Going with the winner of the poll here: "Damas Commits to the Bit too hard and Sig is Going To Slap Him"

Premise: Sig went on all of two missions with the Demolition Duo and decided "dibs, my rookies now, no take-backs".

"No leads on Mar yet."

Sig slouched in the corner booth, eyeing the empty bar as he spoke quietly into his talk-box. "Been trying to work out why Jak was able to talk to that Oracle in the slums. Only thing I know for sure is that it's teaching him to control all the dark eco Praxis forced into his bloodstream."

"His bloodstream?!"*

Damas sounded appalled.

"Eco outside of the core organ is some of the worst pain a hu'men can experience shy of a gut-shot! When did that happen?"

Sig clenched his teeth hard.

"Over the last two years. Snatched the kid off the street and put him through that for two years trying to make a super-soldier while Jak fought him every step of the way."

"I wish I could say that didn't sound like a logical progression of his depravity," Damas hissed on the other end of the line. "That your recruit managed to walk away from that -- let alone resist for two years -- is impressive."

There was a thoughtful note in the king's voice. He was considering something. Now was as good a time as any to try to catch him in an agreeable mood. Sig braced himself.

"...I have a request. I know you don't want to get involved in the civil war beyond runnin' guns, but-"

"Spit it out, Sig."

Sig rubbed the skin under his prosthetic eye and groaned.

"I'm...scared for Jak, man. Every time I see him, he's weaker. Kid’s about to drop over the edge of exhaustion and he keeps trudging on because he says "they" told him to. And I'm pretty sure he's talkin' about the Underground. Now, I know it's off agenda, but- I wanna follow him back. Find out whose trying to work him to death and straighten em out."

He could barely see the shrug on the monitor as Damas answered.

"Why're you asking me? He's your kid."

Something warm fluttered in Sig’s stomach and he grinned despite himself. "Yeah. I...guess he kinda is at this point, isn't he?"

The line was quiet for a few seconds. Time enough for sounds to begin emanating from the street. Then,

"When you find Mar-"

When. Not if. As if his success wasn't even in question.

"When you bring him home, bring Jak, too. I want to meet this kid in person."

"You think I'd let him and Daxter stay here?" Sig scoffed.

Just then, the door swung open, bringing with it the ottsel's familiar voice.

"I'm tellin' you, sweetheart, it's all about the pine-pears. Slice em, grill em, put em on the steak. I guarantee even Hoverboy will love it."

Tess walked in with the boys -- Sig didn't blame them for walking together. This wasn't the nicest neighborhood even without the KG -- and she giggled.

"Daxxie, I've never even had pine-pear. How am I supposed to convince Krew to put something on the menu if we can't get any?"

Jak looked worse than before. The circles beneath his eyes were deep and purple, and he looked dehydrated. Daxter perked up from his shoulders to glance in Sig’s direction.

Crap. He loved the boys, but they weren't cleared to know about Spargus yet.

"Hey, shift's gonna be starting soon, hon. Imma have to call you back."

"I beg your pardon?!" Damas sputtered.

After a beat, in which he must've heard the other voices, he sounded calmer. "Ah. You have company. Carry on."

"Yeah yeah yeah. No, I'll remember. Don't worry about it," Sig said quickly, and a little louder than necessary. "Milk, eggs, paper towels. You need me to grab anything else when I clock out?"

Jak stopped next to his table and cocked his head with a soft frown.

"Who you talkin' to?" he asked.

With a sardonic lilt, Damas’s voice grated in his ear.

"Oh, is that my "stepson"? Yeesh, he sounds rough. Tell him to take a nap."

"Tell him yourself!"

"Sure. Watch your ears."

And before he had time to brace himself, Sig had his ears ringing as Damas raised his voice and loudly called,

"Hey kid! Be good for your old man today. Take a nap when he tells you to this time."

"What the-?" Jak squinted at the talk-box.

Sig flushed scarlet from the tip of his ears to his neck when he heard the usually stoic king burst into uncontrolled cackling.

"I'm gonna round up the kids, and then I'm gonna smack you when I get home" he whispered harshly into the line.

"You wouldn't!" Damas snickered, just before ending the call, "Think of the children!"

"I am going to get him for this," Sig muttered as Jak’s face twisted in confusion.

"Who the heck is that?"

"A menace, that's who," Sig growled. "Ignore him."

Unfortunately, Jak did not.

The more time he and Daxter spent with Sig, recovering from missions under the guise of "Wastelander training", the more comfortable he became with Sig having more or less unceremoniously adopted them. And the more comfortable with Sig he got, the more accustomed he became to encrypted calls from Spargus. The ones Sig wouldn't tell him about yet.

Damas’s terrible habit of taking a Situation and running with it came back to bite them both when a message came while Sig was running perimeter check. And Jak answered the comm.

"You...are not supposed to be on this line."

To his credit, Damas kept reasonably calm.

"Where's your dad, rookie?"

"Sig's clearing the building," Jak answered with a shrug.

"I'd go grab him, but apparently broken toes disqualify you from pest control."

"Eco would fix that quickly enough."

"That's what I said!" Jak gestured vaguely towards the door. "It's not even the worst injury I've gotten in a base!"

Daxter paused on his way past Jak to the kitchen.

"That's true," he called over, "I think catching the live scatter rounds with your bare hands still holds the title on that one, pal."

"Eh." Jak made an entirely too casual shrug.

"Now, don't tell me you were juggling ammunition," Damas said, with a bit of mild reproof under the dry tone.

"The kid tried to channel em," Jak defended himself, "Slight burns or crabby toddler with super strength? Definitely could have been worse. Sig freaked out over that one, too."

Damas’s face went blank very abruptly.

"What toddler."

The door opened, and Jak glanced over.

"Oh, hey Sig. Your "it's complicated" is on the comm."

Sig made a very amusing impression of a fish out of water. He rushed across the room and snatched the talk-box.

"You don't have clearance for my comm, cherry! You know that!"

"What?" Jak asked indignantly, even as Sig propelled him out of the room.

"It's just that stepdad guy! What's the big deal?"

Sig glared at the box. "You did this."

Damas barely noticed. "He can stay, I need to clear something up with him."

If looks could kill, Damas would have been shaking hands with his ancestors at that moment.

"Out. Go run your weapons drills." Sig waved the boys away.

"Well so much for being consistent with him," Damas needled.

Another discreetly murderous glance was aimed at the camera lens.

"Are you serious right now."

"Jak may have information about Mar's location, Sig. I'm dead serious."

Sig snapped back to look at Jak so quickly that Jak was afraid he was going to get whiplash.

Jak blinked.

"Uh...we're not talking about the dead city founder guy, are we? Because I don't know where he is, but the old lady is making me look, so I can probably get you intel later."

*"Toddler,"* Damas corrected tightly, "Green hair, wearing an amulet of Mar. Powerful but uncontrolled channeling potential. Would be about four now."

Jak relaxed. "Oh, him! Yeah, I dropped him off with Vin at the power station because the Shadow was letting him play in the street again."

The combined stares of his semi-legal guardian and the man on the tiny screen left him fidgeting uncomfortably.

"....what?"

[pppeachyyys]

you're my seasons - akaashi keiji

✩ synopsis - in which the regular walk home with akaashi from school suddenly takes a twist, and turns out it's for the better.

✩ tags! fluff, mutual pining, veryyy self indulgent / focuses on readers pov, inspo by seasons. by wave to earth, winter walks!!!, gn neutral however reader is hinted at being shorter once

the walk home from school is silent. the only sounds that fill your ears is the crunch of leftover snow and occasional sniff due to the chilly air. 

as always, you're walking with akaashi. it was the norm, you study in the library or go to clubs and wait for him to finish practice. you exchange small talk with him before walking home together in a comforting silence. 

it has been like this since the third year of junior high; you and akaashi are still good friends that simply enjoy the company of each other. 

akaashis eyes don't tear away from what's in front of him, but his words are directly looking at you. "despite there not being much snow, it's still freezing." he comments. you simply nod, your fingers reaching to clutch your scarf. 

the friendship you guys shared was polite. it was nothing like the way bokuto would launch his sweaty self all over the setter, it was nothing like the way his two managers would tease and poke fun at him. 

it could be perceived as gentle; however, it felt like restraint. you were scared to reach out for him the way his other friends do. you want to lean your head on his shoulder, weave your fingers with his nimble ones, stare into his eyes for hours.

there's no way you view akaashi as a friend. but you believed that he simply saw you as a companion to experience tranquility with, nothing more nor nothing less.

you don't want it to be silent, so you respond. "i didn't expect it to be this windy." 

he notices the way your palms fist together in an attempt to find warmth. his head doesn't move, but his pupils dart over to watch your actions. 

"are your hands cold, y/n?"

the street feels icy. with every step you take, you feel your legs wobble in search for a foundation to keep you from slipping. he's quick to notice this as well. 

"yeah. i'll just stuff them into my pockets, even if it doesn't help much." 

just as you're about to insert your hands into the pockets of your blazer, the front of akaashi's palm is quick to brush against yours. you want it bask in that teasing touch more, but you instinctively pull away.

now you can feel his eyes on you but you don't exchange his look back. are his brows furrowed? would he have a smile on his face? you refuse to answer your question.

"y/n, you don't need to run away from me." 

the walk suddenly comes to a stop. you're now facing him and hes facing you. "what is that supposed to mean?" you ask. 

every sentence is followed with steam whispering into the air. it's now truly silent, and there's nothing to listen to.

that is until akaashi speaks once more. his nose and ears are pink from the chill. "it's okay if we're closer. this distance we have right now... don't you feel like it's getting in the way?"

there is no possible way he is saying these words just to say it, and you're sure of it. gunmetal pigmented eyes are locked right onto your own and the both of you don't want to escape from it. without thinking twice, you're quick to give him a response.

"if we got closer, i think i won't be able to see you as just a friend."

"what if i want us to be closer?"

you realize it's not silent and it's actually loud. your heart is pounding so rapidly that it's almost like each beat can be heard; you think that you can hear akaashi's heart too. it's in sync, there's a connection that desires to eliminate any space or obstacle.

"could i ask you if we can be more than friends, y/n? i want more of what we have and get farther into it. so please, tell me how you feel."

not only is it loud, but it's getting warm. the two of you feel heat rushing around the body. you think the adrenaline is causing you to reach towards him, or maybe it's because he's finally told you the truth. 

in mere seconds that feel like eternity, you stand on your tippie toes and take in his warmth, your lips meeting his and it almost feels perfect. one of his hands go over to the back of your head and the other against your back in an attempt to keep you from slipping. in response to his yearning, your fingers paw at his blazer draped onto his broad chest.

this touch feels ethereal. the proximity eliminated, the only feeling and thought left being love. you don't want this to end, and he doesn't let you go.

with a whisper of the air, his lips pull away from yours and he feels so fufilled. a small smile blooms on his face. 

it still feels cold, silent, and tranquil; however, there is a sense of satisfaction laid onto the scene. akaashi believes he's in love, and you  are the one to give it to him.

[9haharharley1]

Bdsm prompt: experienced kinkster and first time actually doing anything kinkster. Bonus points if the dom is the newbie.

Take this messy thing away from me before I add more nonsense to it!

Featuring a Jack who has been part of a BDSM lifestyle in the past and Pitch who is very much curious.

---

"Is our sex life really so boring that we must submit to such base desires?" Pitch didn't so much as sneer as he said it, but he may as well have for how he turned his nose up at the riding crop laid out innocently on the bed.

Jack rolled his eyes. "It's not base," he said, barely holding back a groan of annoyance. He'd explained this a million times already. "And our sex life isn't boring. Far from it, and know it!" He crossed his arms, feeling a little self-conscious as Pitch held up the crop with one hand to better examine it. "It's just..." He couldn't look at the man, glancing at the closet door as he tried to avoid gold eyes that turned back to study him. "I just need something different every now and then, alright?"

"You want me to hit you," Pitch deadpanned. Jack held himself tighter.

"Yes." He chanced a look at the older man out of the corner of his eye. Pitch had an odd look on his face; one part repulsed, one part curious. He swung the crop down by his side, fast enough that Jack could hear the displacement of air on the other side of the room. It made his cheeks burn hot. "I'm not asking you to beat me, Pitch," he tried to explain once again. Pitch had expressed interest when Jack had first brought it up a week ago, but the tone of his lover's voice now was putting him off. "What I'm asking for is controlled. Methodical, almost. You like that kinda thing, right?"

"Yes, but I'm not interested in hurting you, Jack," Pitch stated firmly. He smacked the crop against the palm of his opposite hand as if to prove his point, but all it did was make Jack's pants feel awfully tight. He shifted in place.

"You're not supposed to put all your strength into it," he explained, rolling his eyes to hopefully mask his sudden arousal. He walked over, holding out his hand. Pitch handed over the crop. "It's a sensory thing." He tapped it gently against his lover's exposed chest. Pitch stood a little straighter, but otherwise, he didn't react save for the curiosity in his eyes. Jack ran the flat leather tip down the center of his chest, nudging his partially unbuttoned shirt out of the way to stroke it against a nipple. Pitch shuddered, pupils dilating a little, and Jack tapped the crop against it just to watch him squirm. "A few smacks is enough for me." He pulled the crop out of Pitch's shirt to run the leather down his stomach. Pitch stood very still, hands behind his back in parade rest. "Hard enough to sting and leave a mark." Jack ran pliable leather over the half-hard cock in Pitch's slacks. He couldn't help but smirk up at the man. "Just enough to know who's in charge."

Pitch's gaze was smoldering as he gazed down at Jack. "And who is in charge, Jack?"

Jack shrugged. He held the crop loose in one hand, looking away from his lover. "Don't know yet. But if you're really not interested, we don't have to do this. This is supposed to be something fun and new, but if you're just gonna be mean, then I'm not interested either." He flipped the crop in his hand, holding the braided handle out for his older lover. He stared hard up at Pitch from under his bangs. "I need you to be my Dom, not a dick."

Pitch slowly reached out to take the riding crop. Jack let him have it, crossing his arms back over his chest. Pitch's fingers flexed around the handle, and Jack had to look away. His face felt flush, and he really hoped Pitch had the good grace not to be a dick about all this later.

He jumped when thin leather smacked his arm. It wasn't enough to hurt, just enough to get his attention, the sound loud in the quiet room. Jack turned his head back to stare down at it, eyes wide. It then moved up, rustling the fabric of his shirt, until leather curled under his chin and urged him to lift his head. He did so as though commanded even though neither of them had spoken, and he was embarrassed by how red his face must be when he finally met Pitch's eyes. Pitch stared down at him, one arm still held behind his back, gaze almost impassive. Curiosity shone deep in gold eyes, studying Jack's reaction to the crop, and the younger man swallowed thickly.

"You seem to have forgotten who's is charge here," Pitch murmured, and Jack whimpered at the authoritative tone. He hated how quick Pitch caught on sometimes. Leather ran down his neck, but Pitch held his gaze. "Allow me to remind you." He tapped Jack's chest with the crop. "Strip for me. And get on the bed."

Jack couldn't get his clothes off fast enough.

He practically ripped his shirt off, throwing it across the room as he did. Pitch tutted, and Jack froze as he worked his pants down his legs.

"So eager," he murmured, and Jack shivered at the dark tone of his voice - the one that only came out when Pitch was particularly demanding in the bedroom, the tone that made Jack want to introduce him to this side of himself after all their time together. "Go slower for me, darling. Let me see you."

Jack swallowed nervously, but he obeyed, removing his pants at a slower pace. He put a playful little bounce to his movements, shaking his ass as he slid his underwear down, earning a soft groan of approval. When he stood back up, his cock stood at full attention, and he couldn't meet Pitch's eyes.

A firm tap of the crop met his thigh, and Jack jumped. He couldn't stop the moan that slipped past his lips.

"On the bed," Pitch reminded him, a warning in his tone. "Don't make me ask again."

Oh, that...

That was fucking perfect.

Jack was trembling as he stepped toward the bed, his face on fire as he knelt on the edge. He wanted to ask how Pitch wanted him, but he was too turned on and embarrassed to do so, so he simply climbed up on hands and knees, ass on display for his lover. It had been a long time since he had last been in such a position, and it was embarrassing to display himself so lewdly to Pitch of all people, but he trusted him; trusted him more than anyone he had ever met, so he swallowed down his shame and arched his back, leaning forward to rest his weight on his elbows. He wanted to share this side of himself with Pitch, and he was going to share every damn bit of it.

Pitch sucked in a sharp breath behind him, and Jack couldn't help the little grin that came to his lips at the noise. He breathed out a shaky breath and finally let himself sink into that blank space he had been craving for months now.

"Is this okay, Sir?" he asked quietly, peeking over his shoulder, and he was gratified by what he saw.

Pitch's mouth had fallen slack, brow hiked up. His eyes had glazed over some as he ran them over Jack's exposed body, the crop dangling uselessly from his fingers. His black slacks were tented with obvious arousal, and Jack bit back a laugh. He shook his ass, teasing his older lover.

"Sir?" he asked, a little louder. Pitch snapped his mouth shut.

"Oh, I was not ready for that..." he mumbled, still looking a little dazed. Jack snorted. He shook his ass again, earning a gentle smack from the crop. "Stop that."

Pitch was kind enough to wait for his laughter to die down. "Sorry, sorry!" He looked back again to see the older man just watching him, running his eyes over every inch of his body. He was equal parts admiring, dazed, and calculated, and Jack's blush returned. "Do you want to stop?"

Pitch's eyes darted up to meet his. "Do you?"

Jack slowly shook his head. He licked his lips. "Green."

He watched Pitch exhale shakily. "Safe words. Right." He swallowed but adjusted his grip on the crop. "Green." And Jack watched his whole demeanor change, going from his unsure and hesitant lover to the hardened military strategist he had met what felt like a lifetime ago now.

His fingers curled in the duvet under him as he shivered with anticipation.

Firm leather brushed his ass, making Jack trembled in place. It ran over first one cheek and then the other, ghosting down his center until it pushed against his hole. He whimpered.

"None of that," came Pitch's hardened voice, and Jack struggled to comply, but all he wanted was to fall face first into the bed and beg the man to touch him. "Needy little things like you don't get what they want, even if they do make such sweet sounds." He rubbed the crop more firmly over Jack's entrance, and he had to stifle his moan into the covers. "I don't think I appreciate such disrespect." He pulled the crop away to tap against a cheek gently. "Do you agree, darling?"

Jack nodded shakily. "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."

"Hm." Pitch seemed to be struggling for dialogue, but Jack was so turned on by him playing along that he was willing to wait as long as he needed. It wasn't like they had hashed out a specific scenario to lead into this. He actually hadn't thought Pitch would want to jump right on in to begin with! Jack had thought they would need to ease into it all a little more, get his lover more comfortable taking charge like this, but Pitch was proving to be almost natural at it. Pitch's eyes on him alone was enough to keep him hard for hours, and, oh, they were going to have to talk about such a scenario at some point, weren't they?

Jack's cock was leaking between his legs, almost painful with how hard he was. He needed to move this along or he was going to have to safeword out, because this was almost too much too soon. "How can I make it up to you, Sir?" he murmured, glancing over his shoulder again.

Pitch was staring at him like he didn't know what he wanted to do to him first, and, fuck, Jack needed him to do something! He shook his ass, his arousal noticeably swaying between his legs, if Pitch's eyes dropping down to stare at it meant anything.

"I'm, uh..." Pitch swallowed, hands balling into fists at his sides, breath coming a little shaky. "Ye... Yellow."

Jack didn't move off the bed, but he sat up, turning his upper body toward his lover. His brow furrowed in concern. "What's wrong?"

A shaky breath left Pitch, but his eyes remained glued to Jack's ass. Jack thought that might be a good sign. "I don't..." Pitch exhaled again. "I'm at a loss."

Jack pursed his lips. He turned around to face him. Pitch stifled a distressed noise at that, and he almost laughed at the older man. "OK. How so?"

"I-I don't..." Pitch ran a hand through his hair, scowling at the floor. "I don't know what I'm doing. I d-don't know how to segue into... hitting you." He sounded genuinely distressed.

"Do you want to stop?" Jack asked. His tone left no room for argument.

Pitch's brow furrowed. He remained quiet. Jack sighed quietly, and he tried not to feel disappointed.

"We can stop, Koz," he said quietly. He met Pitch's eyes when the older man finally looked back at him. He shrugged, offering a small grin. "It's really not that big a deal. I'm... kinda surprised you made it this far anyway." He chuckled a little.

"Jack..."

Jack hated how soft his voice sounded.

"Seriously, it's fine!" He forced a laugh, ignoring the tears that sprang to his eyes. "We don't have to go further! Just... come over here and give me some cuddles or something. I don't want you to feel like -"

"I want to bury my face in your arse," Pitch suddenly announced. Jack's face went scarlet, wide eyes darting up to meet blazing gold. Pitch's pupils were still blown so wide as he racked his eyes over Jack's body. "How I get to that point from here, I do not know, but this is... Frankly, this is torture. How do I get to that point?"

Jack almost spit for how sudden his laughter was. "You -"

"Jack, please," Pitch practically begged. "Am I allowed to touch you? Or does that come later?"

It took serious effort to stifle his giggles. They sounded near hysterical to his own ears, and he watched through watery eyes as Pitch stepped closer. "Pitch -" Jack cut himself off with more laughter, near doubled over. "Oh, my god, I can't -" he gasped in a breath, nearly losing it again when he caught sight of his lover's impatient face. "B-Babe, pfft - you're in control here! You can do whatever you want to me as long as I get the crop or unless I safeword out!" He reached out both hands for his lover, Pitch stepping in close until Jack could grab the collar of his partially open shirt and drag him closer. He shifted, lifting up on his knees so he could give the taller man a reassuring kiss, moaning when Pitch tried to follow him when he pulled away. Jack grinned. "The ass-whooping is my punishment; ass-eating is the reward."

"So it's to be a punishment, then," Pitch clarified. His voice went velvety dark as he said it, something in Jack's words seeming to click for the older man. It made Jack's face flush once again. Pitch grabbed one thin wrist in his free hand, pulling Jack away. "In that case -" he smirked wickedly " - green." He shoved Jack back onto the bed. Jack yelped.

Before he could catch his bearings and scramble back up, the crop came down on his chest - not enough to hurt, but enough to make an audible sound and leave a light mark on his pectoral. Jack gasped, dropping back down to his elbows, eyes clenched shut as tingles shot from the spot all the way to his groin. The crop dragged down to his belly.

"You are an absolute bloody menace." Another hit landed just under his ribs, Jack arching and crying out. He gaped up at the ceiling as Pitch dragged it even further down, tracing the seam of his hips. "And you think," Pitch ran the leather tip in a circle on the sensitive skin just below Jack's naval, "you can just tease me anyway you'd like?" He barely tapped it against Jack's weeping member, nearly making him sob when it bounced in place. He trembled. "I think making me wait is punishment enough. On your knees."

Jack couldn't move fast enough.

He scrambled back to his position from before, ass out and knees spread as he pressed his chest to the mattress, all but prostrating himself for his lover. Leather ran up from the back of his knee, tickling sensitive skin as Pitch dragged the crop up to his ass. He lay it flat to his skin, Jack shaking uncontrollably. He clutched the duvet in anticipation.

"How many do you think you deserve?" Pitch asked. He held the crop steady as Jack tried to wiggle his ass at him for more attention. Then he gave him a good swat.

"AH!" Jack's head shot up with the hit, the cry ripped from his throat in his shock. His cock was already dripping from how hard he was.

"None of that," Pitch ordered. He rested the crop on stinging flesh. "I think I've had enough teasing for one night. Answer my question, Jack."

Jack swallowed, burying his heated face in the cover. "F-Five..." he whispered. It was a number he had decided on before they started, something to ease them both into this. At the rate it was going, however, he might not even last that long.

Another swat stung his other cheek, and Jack nearly screeched, head jerking up in shock. His hips tried to rock uselessly forward.

"What was that, darling?" Pitch pulled the crop away. "I couldn't quite hear you."

Jack licked his lips, panting. "F-Five hits, S-Sir!" he stuttered a little louder. He couldn't bear to look over his shoulder at Pitch.

"Good boy, Jack. Five should do nicely. Are you ready?"

Jack didn't even get a chance to reply before the first real smack hit him just above where ass met thigh. A sound was ripped from him, somewhere between a screech and a moan, and he clutched the covers hard between his fingers. Tears stung his eyes, and euphoria threatened to consume him with the beautiful sting of pain.

"Is that what you wanted, Jack?" Pitch asked, voice gone dark with menace. "Aren't you going to thank me?"

Jack trembled where he lay. "Oh, god... Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir!"

"Don't you sound so pretty. Let's hear it again, hm?"

And he swatted Jack again, this time across the other cheek, and Jack squealed. His face was on fire, and he buried it in the duvet, tears soaking the fabric where he had his eyes clenched shut. "Oh, fuck, thank you, Sir!"

"This is a good look for you," he thought he heard Pitch say behind him. There was a fog rolling in, keeping him from paying attention to anything but the next hit. It came soon after, across the same cheek, Jack whining into the sheets. "Don't hide yourself, Jack. I'm doing this for you, after all."

"Y-Yes, Sir! Thank you!"

"So sweet." Was that a grin he could hear in Pitch's voice? Jack wasn't sure. He was too busy gasping for air as a sob threatened to escape his throat. "But I'm sure you can sound sweeter."

The next hit landed in the same sensitive spot as the first, where ass met thigh and lit up his nerves with fire. He screamed into the sheets, that sob ripped from his throat as his legs shook. His toes curled, back arching, and it took him longer than before to catch his breath again.

"Th-Thank you, Sir..." he hiccuped into the sheets. When Pitch didn't respond, Jack hesitantly shook his ass, and he heard a quiet groan somewhere behind him. "G-Green..." he sniffed.

"Gods, you're fucking gorgeous," Pitch suddenly growled. Jack jumped as the crop found his skin again, but all Pitch did was trail it gently along the painful spots on his ass - a mockery of a caress that made Jack's skin twitch and his muscles quiver. The crop dragged over his heavy sac to tap his member. "Look at you... You're dripping all over and I haven't even touched you yet." He continued to rub firm leather along sensitive flesh, letting pearly fluid catch on the end of the crop. Whimpering, Jack tried to thrust forward, to get even the slightest bit of friction on his cock, but Pitch pulled it away with a firm tap, making his length bounce and Jack nearly sob. "You don't get to come yet, Jack," he said darkly. The crop rubbed once more over his cheeks. Jack's back tensed. "I still owe you one more. Are you ready?"

Jack didn't even have time to respond or even just nod his head before he was screaming with the final hit across both his cheeks, rocking forward with the force of it, cock spurting with pre as unexpected pleasure ripped through him. He sobbed into the bed, fingers curled tight in the covers.

"Fuck!" he screamed, legs spreading even wider in an effort to rub himself on the bed. "Fuck, fuck, fu~uck! Thank you, Sir! Thank you - oh, god, I'm so close, please, Sir, I need it, I need you, I need - fuck!"

Two big, hot hands spread his stinging cheeks, thumbs pulling at his rim until hot breath and an even hotter tongue found his hole and plunged inside. Jack screamed, writhing on the bed as he tried to fuck back on that wonderful tongue, Pitch groaning obscenely loud compared to how quiet and controlled he had held himself until now.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get more inside him, all but sobbing when Pitch refused to give him what he needed. His tongue was searing in its heat, and Jack's tears soaked into the cover as he cried, shaking and desperate. He listened to Pitch's moans, feeling little vibrations of sensation shoot up his spine until he couldn't take it anymore, and he arched to try and catch a glance at the older man.

"P-Pitch," he sobbed, "Pitch, please, I can't - I need -"

That tongue was gone in the next instant, Jack gasping at the sudden emptiness, his hole clenching around nothing. He sobbed again, frustration making him thrust his hips for some kind of friction until a hard smack to his ass made him gasp and jump. The sting of a hand on flesh had his eyes clenching shut. Big hands took a firm hold of his hips, yanking him back to the edge of the bed, and with no warning, Pitch's long, hard cock was forced inside in one hard shove.

A guttural scream ripped from Jack's throat, tears soaking his cheeks, and he came untouched almost immediately, forcing himself back on the long cock inside him with every near painful spurt. Pitch held him in place, groaning loud and deep, and it took only a few thrusts before warmth flooded Jack's insides. He whined at the sensation, trying to meet every twitch of Pitch's hips, until all at once, his legs seemed to give out, and all that held up his slumped form was Pitch's strength alone.

Minute tremors ran through lithe muscle as Jack was lowered back down on the bed. He shook, tears soaking into the sheets as his ass stung in the cool air and his face burned.

God, what must Pitch think of him?

He tried to lift himself up, but his arms shook so bad that he could barely move them, let alone support his weight, and he collapsed back to the bed. He tried to hide his face, only to moan when hot hands found his skin, slick with some kind of lotion, rubbing it gently into his tender flesh.

"You did so well, Jack..." Pitch murmured from behind him, voice achingly soft and gentle. "You were so very good for me; so beautiful and obedient."

Jack sniffled, peeking an eye over his shoulder to meet Pitch's adoring gaze. "I-I did good?"

Pitch smiled at him, gold eyes gleaming with love. "So good, Jack. You were such a good boy for me." He rubbed the last of the ointment into Jack's skin before crawling up the bed, picking Jack up easily as he went to rearrange them both more comfortably at the head of the bed. He held the younger man securely in warm arms, Jack burying his face in his exposed chest as he clutched at his shirt. Pitch moved a hand up to card his fingers through sweaty white hair. "Thank you for being so patient with me, love," he whispered, placing a kiss to Jack's hair.

When Jack's shaking finally died down and he felt like he could speak normally again, he pulled away to gaze up at his lover, filled with nothing but love and adoration for the man. He placed a soft kiss on his chin. "Next time, I think I might ask you to go harder on me," he murmured, voice hoarse from screaming.

Pitch kissed his brow in return, fingers gentle on his back. His smirk was wicked when he met Jack's gaze, however. "Next time, I'm going to fuck you with the handle of that crop until you can't speak anymore."

Arousal lit up Jack's spine with a shock, and he moaned, his length twitching half-heartedly against the thigh shoved between his legs. He grinned back, eyes going heavy with desire. "Oh, yes, Sir, please..."

It looked like Pitch really would have no trouble taking up the title as Jack's Dom after all.

---

I'll clean it up and add it to ao3 later!

[aishangotome]

[Gilbert] Love's Cleaning Time - Part 1

In the mighty military nation of Obsidian, its ruler, despite their noble status, keeps no servants by their side.

Therefore, they must attend to all their personal needs, except for meals ––

Emma: Gil, what should we do with that shelf?

Gilbert: Ah, please take care of it. I don't believe it holds any classified information.

Emma: Leave it to me.

Inside Gilbert's study, a place strictly off-limits to outsiders, I take items from the shelves, dust them off, and put them back in their places.

It's a simple task, but the study is vast, and before I knew it, the sun has set.

(But it's visibly getting cleaner.)

(It's tiring, but rewarding and fun.)

It seems that in the past, Roderich used to help with this, but since I arrived, I've been given that role.

Gilbert: It's just that...

Gilbert: I'm bored.

Emma: We're almost done, so let's keep going.

Gilbert: That 'almost done' is the troublesome part.

Gilbert: Little rabbit, how can you keep going without getting bored?

Emma: Of course I'm going to do my best if Gil needs me!

Emma: There aren't many ways I can be useful, so I want to give it my all when I have the chance.

(...? What's in this box?)

While talking, I take a document box engraved with a rose carving from the shelf.

It's unexpectedly heavy, putting the arm strength I've developed from my bookstore job to the test.

Gilbert: What are you saying? You're always helping me.

Gilbert: Thank you.

Emma: !?

It seems Prince Gilbert had approached me from behind without me noticing. Surprised by the kindness in his "thank you" whispered into my ear, I accidentally drop the document box I was holding.

Emma: I-I'm so sorry!

Gilbert: Ahaha, you're so easy to startle.

The impact of hitting the floor scatters the contents of the box, documents flying everywhere.

Prince Gilbert is laughing, but I feel like I'm about to faint.

I hurriedly gather the documents, trying to put them back in the box.

––In doing so, the words inevitably catch my eye.

Emma: "Rhodolite's Periodic Report"?

Gilbert: Ah.

Emma: ...This is...

––This week's visitors: 17. Of which, 8 female, 9 male. No suspicious behavior. The subject's health is also good. Matters of concern: Movements are slower compared to normal times. Possibility of injury. Requires follow-up observation. A detailed report will be sent after investigation at a later date.

(This must be something I'm not supposed to see...)

Gilbert: Oh dear, you saw it.

Prince Gilbert gently places his hand on my frozen shoulder.

Gilbert: What should we do?

Emma: ...You said there wasn't any classified information...

Gilbert: Yeah, I forgot about that.

Emma: ......

Gilbert: I have to silence the little rabbit who saw something she shouldn't have.

Prince Gilbert kneels before me, brings his face close with an amused look, and lightly pecks my lips.

Emma: ...So it wasn't anything that bad, huh?

Gilbert: Ahaha, you're starting to understand me better, aren't you?

(If it really was something I shouldn't have seen, Prince Gilbert wouldn't be so forgiving.)

(Besides, he's not the type to carelessly reveal secrets.)

I calm my racing heart and lower my gaze to the documents in my hands.

The more I look at it, the stranger this report seems.

Prince Gilbert, as Obsidian's Field Marshal, is intently eyeing Rhodolite's territory.

But the contents of this report, to an untrained eye, seem to have no value whatsoever.

It's just a record of the actions of a certain bookstore employee. There's a possibility it's some kind of code, but I can't imagine it's worth the attention of a royal from a major power.

(No, wait...)

(A bookstore in Rhodolite's territory?)

(...)

Emma: .............Gil.

(There's only one bookstore Prince Gilbert would have his eye on.)

Emma: Could this report...be about me?

Gilbert: Ahaha, you got me.

(Just how long has this been going on...?)

Judging by the dates on the report, it seems to go back quite a while, even before I was chosen as Belle –– several years, in fact.

(Perhaps since I started managing the store for the owner?)

I knew Prince Gilbert had spies in the city, but I had no idea such detailed reports existed, leaving me speechless.

(This explains why he was so strangely well-informed about my past.)

It seems like he's gotten more information from spies than from the owner.

Emma: I had no idea.

Gilbert: The spy I assigned to you is one of Obsidian's best.

Gilbert: His name is Michael. Does that ring a bell?

Emma: Eh...? No way, Michael was a spy!?

(I know him well. He's a regular customer who started coming in after I began looking after the store alone.)

I've had casual conversations with Michael from time to time, so there's no way I could forget him.

Gilbert: I'm sorry. I didn't intend to have you followed at first.

Gilbert: You were just an ordinary citizen of Rhodolite, not someone a royal from a military power would be concerned with.

Gilbert: But I was forced to assign a spy to you.

*flashback*

Gilbert: --Akatsuki. Are you serious?

.

.

.

Part 2

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[starseneyes]

Garashir - Julian Bashir / Elim Garak - Deep Space 9

Yes, I'm doing it. After weeks of my poor husband listening to me rant and rave about these two, I decided it was time to start a Meta following their relationship and what wasn't and could have been if TPTB had let these two experience a fully formed romantic relationship rather than one told in between furtive glances and flitting flirtations.

I was quite young when Deep Space 9 aired, but I remember gravitating very heavily toward Julian Bashir. His character underwent such growth, and Siddig El Fadil (as I memorized his name when I was a child, now billed as Alexander Siddig) was mezmerizing.

Little Rachel didn't catch every episode, so I missed a lot of Andrew Robinson as Garak, but watching as an adult I am in awe of the charismatic performance that birthed out of one heckuva interestingly written first scene.

Where will this go? Oh, everywhere! And I'm ever so glad to go there with you.

I wouldn't think a 30-year-old show would need a spoiler warning, but just in case: Spoilers abound for those who dare to dive in. Everything. In totality. Even a bit about Star Trek: Lower Decks.

Shall we?

Before we begin with the meeting of two spectacular characters, I want to preface that I am well-aware that Siddig and Robinson were onboard from moment one and that they acted the hell out of it.

I think it's absolutely beautiful that these two have been the champions of this relationship, and it makes it all the more fun to write a meta like this—knowing that a lot of the microexpressions I tend to latch onto naturally were intentional. Oh, that makes this even more fun!

"It's Doctor Bashir, isn't it? Of course it is. May I introduce myself?" "Uhhhh, yes. Yes. Of course."

From moment one, Bashir is flustered. Yes, we could say he has a degree of excitement about meeting a supposed spy, but there's something in the way these two hold one another's gazes before Garak even opens his mouth that's intriguing.

Thanks to Robinson's openess about his character, we know that Garak was DTF. But Bashir is on the receiving end of this attention and affection, and unsure how to respond to it.

Now, I don't think this is is because our dear doctor is not open to attraction between himself and a being who is not female-presenting, but more because he truly believes this being to be a spy.

Can you trust the flirtations of someone skilled in the art of espionage? This is something Bashir will have to chew on for some time. He just doesn't know it, yet.

"My name is Garak. A Cardassian by birth, obviously."

And there's the moment Bashir looks the man up and down. But, why? It's such a minor thing, but it catches my attention every time, mostly because I know it was a choice on Siddig's part. Bashir looked this alien up and down while trying to figure him out.

Garak invites himself to sit across from the handsome doctor, stating much of the obvious while attempting to draw Bashir out.

"You are new to this station, I believe." "I-I-I am, yes."

Bashir is stammering. And it reminds me of my Middle child. Middle is Autistic, and stammering often happens when he's worked up about something, or really excited.

Bashir then places his elbows on the table... and immediately encounters the plant. He tries to bat it away, but becomes so embarassed he puts his hands back down on the table.

"Though, though I understand you've been here for quite a while." "Ah! You know of me, then."

Garak is noticeably delighted. No doubt, he thinks this awareness smooths the way for him to be even more forward with the object of his desire.

Bashir defers to tea and tries to order Garak some, while Garak basks in the attentive nature of this human he's spied. No doubt, he's wondering just how attentive the good doctor is in other areas of his life.

"As you may also know, I have a clothing shop nearby, so if you should require any apparel, or simply wish as I do, for a bit of enjoyable company now and then, I'm at your disposal, doctor."

Translation: I want to drape you in the sexiest clothes, then disrobe you, and I'll do it anytime you like, just let me know. What, that wasn't what you heard?!

"You're very kind, Mr. Garak."

Kind. It's a word that will come back (though not for another season or so) between these two.

"Oh, it's just Garak. Plain simple, Garak."

Plain and Simple will come back, too. I have to give the writers so much credit for bringing both these things back around later on in the series.

"I'm so glad to have made such an interesting new friend."

He places his hands on Bashir's shoulders, that right hand taking its time as the fingers settle and the human watches them, wondering precisely what he's feeling as it rushes through him in waves. Excitement? Attraction? Danger? All three?!

Hopeful he's gotten his meaning across, Garak leaves the nice doctor be. But the impression of the conversation stays with Bashir as a series of emotions and reactions flash across his features.

Yes, there's the excitement of a young man with flights of fancy thinking he's met a spy. But there's also a "What the hell was that!?" that flits across his face as he tries to process all the things he simultaneously felt.

Amongst the other emotions, there was a definite attraction and desire for this Cardassian he's never met. There was something about him that was intriguing from moment one.

The human has always liked aliens, as we recall from his experiences when his parents first took him away to be "reconditioned as a child. He was excited to see so many different aliens, then, and his work as a Doctor allows him to encounter many different species.

But this Cardassian showered him in compliments that disarmed him and left this seemingly smooth ladies' man stammering and grasping for composure. That he could be so easily stripped bare of the arrogance that encapsulated early Bashir characterization is no accident.

The actors gave us this gift in their very first scene together with no idea if they would ever meet, again. At this point, Robinson was a one-episode guest star on the show. It doesn't matter. Both he and Siddig performed the hell out of this.

Later, Julian spies Garak out for a drink. And the way the camera finds him alone in a corner lends a sense of loneliness and isolation to the Cardassian. Even the separation of us from him by the bars in the establishing shot seem to block him out, somewhat.

"And how are you this evening, Mr Garak?"

Dear sweet Julian is on the hunt for a spy, but Garak is simply happy to spot the spry, young Doctor, again. The way "enhance my evening" drips off his tongue tastes of that carnal want in the gentlest of ways.

"Ah, plain simple Garak. How are you today?" "Being observant, Doctor." "I'm sure of it."

That giggle Siddig puts into the performance is just delicious. It feels lived in and earnest.

And then these two have the first of many standing conversations—where the meaning of personal space does not exist. Yes, they were dealing with a 4:3 ratio, but there's a difference between tight quarters and kissing range.

"Come in quickly, Doctor, you're late."

Garak is man-handling his human, but there's a reason for it. And poor, dear Julian actually holds up the suit jacket to see if he likes it. I don't know if that was the actor choice or the script, but it genuinely made me laugh.

This episode aired January 1993, which means it was likely shot in late 1992. The next time the two would work together would be on Season 2's "Cardassians", which aired in October of the same year.

This time, it's Julian who notices Garak sitting alone, drinking from a matching mug begging for its pairing to join it.

"Ah, Tarkalean Tea, again, doctor?"

Nicely done, DS9 writers. Calling back to that first meeting where Bashir offered Garak some tea, saying it was good.

Also, this casual acknowledgement suggests there've been some more interactions that have gone unseen by us in the meantime. It's been 9 months in the real world since last they saw one another, so it isn't unrealistic to imagine.

But the writer of this scene quickly roots us in some kind of a casual relationship that has developed since last Garak set his sights on the doctor. It's expertly done, and while it's not related entirely to the performance, I have to call it out because it's so well done.

Bashir starts fishing, again, about the spy he believes Garak to be. And while Garak plays along a little (because he clocks it immediately), he does tire of it.

"Really, Doctor? Must we always play this game?"

Again, I wanna smooch the screenwriter. This is the 90's, y'all. This is just coming off an era where Riker and Troi were seemingly a couple one episode and the next they were making eyes at other people as if they didn't know one another.

This was an era where episodes were essentially still written in a bottle without continuous storylines because the goal was to establish television that allowed Drop In viewers to join the show at any point without needing previous knowledge to understand every nuance.

Deep Space 9 was famous for bringing continuous story-telling to the forefront of Star Trek with the Dominion War, among other things.

But even here in Season 2, someone on that writing team understood the importance of the relationship between these characters so intimately that they sneaked in lines to establish a history unseen by the audience. That's mind-blowingly masterful and deserves attention.

"I'm no more a spy than you are-" "A doctor."

Ooh, is that a little bitchiness coming off of Bashir here? Me gusta! It's so much more attractive here when aimed at the charismatic Cardassian than when employed in attempted seductions of Daxes.

"What else can I do to convince you I'm just-" "Plain, simple Garak?"

Again, calling back to 9 months earlier at a time when most of us were still recording episodes on VHS and mailing them cross-country in tape exchanges coordinated by a burgeoning internet that consisted of IRC, ICQ, and AOL's Buddy Chat. This is artfully done.

"And a bite on the hand is certainly worth saving a boy's life, wouldn't you say?" "I suppose it depends on whose hand. Just joking, Doctor."

Bashir huffs out the slightest laugh at that. But as they speak, the topic turns to Gul Dukat, and Garak gives the good Doctor an education. One that Bashir attempts to use in a verbal confrontation with Gul Dukat that goes nowhere.

"He's lying." "Is that an opinion, or do you have evidence to support it?" "I have Garak."

This is intriguing to me. Because, in the first scene of the episode, as Garak and Bashir sipped drinks and chatted, Bashir brought up the issue of "trust".

On nothing but the word of a Cardassian he casually knows, Bashir inserted himself into a conversation to which he was no part and got himself duly told off by his superior officer.

One could say that he was foolhardy to so readily believe the man he has correctly deduced to be involved in espionage. But, there's something at a chemical level about these two that cannot be denied. And the next scene shows it all the more.

Bashir tosses and turns in bed, something interfering with his peaceful slumber. He starts himself awake and sits up to see Garak sitting patiently, watching him sleep, waiting for him to wake.

"Come, Doctor."

Woah, there, Nelly. I know you like to be forward, Garak, but did you really need to be that obvious?! There'll be plenty of time for that later.

"Get dressed."

I'm sorry. Are we implying that Garak is just gonna... chill in Bashir's quarters while he unbuttons that non-regulation looking night shirt and nothing's gonna happen between the two of them?

I mean, I suppose there's a reality where Garak is too worried about this Cardassian War Orphan to take advantage of the moment, but I'm certain he is not going to waste the opportunity to enjoy the view.

"We need to be going." "Going? Going where?" "To Bajor."

And on nothing more than that, the good Doctor suits up, wakes his superior officer (who just told him off) and requests a Runabout.

"It's Garak, sir. He wants to go to Bajor." "Bajor. For what?" "He wouldn't tell me."

Listen, honey. I know you're down bad for the Cardassian bad boy, but your Commander's getting a little tired of you interrupting him (first his meeting, then his sleep) on his behalf. Just bang him and be done with it, won't you? But, of course, a timely message saves the day.

"It can't be just a coincidence, sir... What could he be looking for on Bajor?" "There's only one way to find out."

And thus, a Cardassian and his human boy toy took off for answers.

"Perhaps, I can be of service." "You can fix computers?" "Oh, I dabble in isolinear subprocessors. It's a hobby of mine." *jaw clench*

I have to call out the jaw clench. There are few actors who can make a motion that minute and have it read well on camera.

"I continue to underestimate you, Garak."

I've never understood this line. Perhaps, Bashir could not fathom all of Garak's capabilities, but one would automatically assum a spy possessed hidden talents.

Perhaps this line speaks to the 90's, an era when we still pretty-much stuck to the labels provided by John Hughe's Breakfast Club of Brain, Athlete, Basket Case, Princess, and Criminal. Folks weren't easily more than one thing in that compartmentalized view of society and media.

If anything, Garak is an incredible Grey character when it comes to morality and motivation. So, perhaps his inclusion in the show is a delineator between the old and the new—where more complex characters were accepted on television.

But, no, Julian, I don't think you've underestimated him. Perhaps your imagination didn't stretch so far to encompass all of Garak's talents. But, if anything, you've put more stock in him and what he says than anyone else. Otherwise, you wouldn't be on this planet right now.

Garak removes his eyeglass and hands it instinctively to Julian, who receives it. It's a very intimate moment, honestly. They don't discuss this in any way. Garak knows Julian would want to see it, and he hopes to diffuse his questions by tying it all back to his tailor cover.

"Computer, disregard that request and shut down all engines."

Watch Garak, here. Robinson is taking us through an entire thought journey masterfully in seconds through microexpressions. There's surprise. Confusion. Concern. And then a realization where he thinks he's landed on what prompted this.

"I'm sorry you're upset about the orphans... I don't make the rules." "But you do play the game, don't you, Garak? And there is a game being played right now as we speak, isn't there?"

Holy fuck, yes, Julian! Finally, you are pushing back! Look, I love how much Julian can trust Garak sometimes, but it's also a bit foolish, and it's about damn time he held Garak's feet to the fire on this one.

"There are always games, Doctor." "The trouble is I don't have the slightest idea what this game is all about. So you're gonna tell me what's going on inside that plain and simple head of yours, my Cardassian friend, or we're going to sit here until we rot."

Garak looks like he wants to pin him right there. Rather than explain it all to him, Garak feeds him the information he needs to put together the pieces.

See, Garak knows that Bashir has a keen intellect. He doesn't need to tell him everything. He can simply allow Bashir to deduce it.

And perhaps this is a sneak peek of our dear Cardassian's talent for spinning tales and avoiding speaking absolute truth, but it also shows a level of trust in Bashir's intelligence.

It's the furthest Garak is willing to trust Bashir, right now, but it's still a huge leap in terms of any other relationships in Garak's life. I mean, what other friends does he have?

Sure, he initally approached Bashir hoping for a quickie or a nice man he could bootie call every so often. It seems Bashir hasn't quite taken the leap Garak had hoped in that department, but they have spent enough time together to forge some kind of bond.

And that's rare for a spy. Connections are weaknesses, you know. Which makes what these two share throughout the series all the more important for them both.

"Very good, Doctor. I'm glad to see our little get-togethers haven't gone for naught."

Again, this isn't their second time meeting, even if it is only our second time seeing them together. Gosh, I love this writing team for getting it.

"Another coincidence?" "I believe in coincidences. Coincidences happen every day. But I don't trust coincidences."

Gosh, this man can deliver a line. Also, I love the "coincidences" coming back around.

"Do you really think he purged the file on Rugal?" "I would have."

It's not an admission of his role as a spy, but it is a clue. And, if Bashir is paying attention, as much admission as he'll get at this point.

"Are you sure his name was Rugal?" "That's what we were told." *Garak perks up* "Somebody told you his name?" *Garak smiles*

I love this bit. Garak is smart, so he immediately clocks the "told" bit. And then he gets to have pride in his pet human clocking it nearly as quickly.

"Is there anything else, Doctor?"

Julian looks to Garak, who is hovering out-of-view of the Bajoran. He smiles as he shakes his head. "You did well," his smile says.

"Commander, can I ask a few questions?"

Julian walks in with Garak by his side—equals in this moment. And while Sisko earlier told Bashir off for interrupting, he knows well enough, now, that the Doctor must have something constructive to offer.

"Alright. Let's talk about children."

Look. At. The. FRAMING. Yes, we're watching Bashir square off with the menacing Gul Dukat, but framed behind them is a barely contained Garak, watching Bashir with pride.

This isn't the pride of a parental figure, but the pride one feels when their Partner gets to show everyone else what we already see in them. While Bashir has flubbed a bit through this episode, he gets to shine in this scene.

Garak always knew he had it in him, which is why he perked when Bashir stood up to him in the Runabout. Now, he gets to watch as Bashir triumphs in front of his Commanding officer and others against Garak's old nemesis—Gul Dukat.

After Julian moves away to take his place at the front of the room, the frame holds on Gul Dukat with Garak in the background. And, oh, the theater girl in me is fangirling!

Look, there are actors and then there are actors. I will never forget the first time I saw my husband on stage. We wouldn't meet for months later, but I was very bored during the second act of a University performance of St. Joan.

Every actor on that stage was talking, but nobody was listening. You can be a fine actor and get by, but those who also know how to listen and react will always have my heart.

And as the secon act droned on, I noticed one of the 12 people sitting at the front of the stage slowly remove their blindfold, turn their head, and listen.

He had maybe 8 minutes of speaking time on stage, but when I went home that night, I raved to my father about him. "The second act was dragging and then this man took off his blindfold and I thought, 'finally, there's an actor on this stage!'"

Watching Robinson, here, you can tell just how amazing he is. The director chose to keep him in-frame, likely because he recognized the brilliance. And all these years later, that remains a gift to us all.

Julian delivers the final blow, and his forceful presentation gives way to an honest smile directed at Garak, who smiles back, glowing with spousal pride as he nods.

"Truth, Doctor, is in the eye of the beholder. I never tell the truth because I do not believe there is such a thing. That's why I prefer the straight line simplicity of cutting cloth." "So, you're not gonna tell me." "But you don't need me to tell you, my friend. Just notice the details. They're scattered like crumbs all over this table we regularly share."

They have a table. They have a table! I love all these little details. Also, you can tell they've really honed in on Garak's character, here.

While his first, flirty appearance wasn't intended for a recurrence, I think they had a better idea of it, here, and thus a better handle on him. Being illusive is just part of who he is and how he operates.

"Until next time."

And he nods his head toward Bashir, and Bashir nods back. I point this out because it will come back, and I think it's just so incredible that Robinson put this in so early. Trust me, I'll point it out when it comes back, again!

It would be five months before these two shared the screen, again. I point this out only because the spaces between them working together are getting smaller and smaller.

Someone amongst TPTB realized they had a winner with this Garak character and brought him back—expanding his interactions to more of the crew.

"It all comes down to a question of loyalty. My dear doctor, Yuri had to choose between protecting his brother and protecting the state. He chose the state. As would I, every time."

Oh, this is one of those conversations that says so much about Garak for anyone paying attention (or for those of us with knowledge of the future). Watching this the first time, nobody would have known about Tain, about Garak's past, about so many things.

But from this conversation we know he's a man of the state, first. That is where his loyalty lies. Not with people. It's very revealing.

"Fishing, again, Doctor?" "Assuming you're not a spy-" "Assuming." "Then, maybe you're an outcast." "Or, maybe, I'm an outcast spy." "How could you be both?" "I never said I was either."

He's telling you, Julian! You just have to listen instead of looking for what you want to hear. In this episode, Julian may not realize how much of what Garak said in that short span was true. But, we, the audience, do.

"Before I became a tailor I went by a simple motto—never let sentiment get in the way of your work. A bit of a cliché, but true, nonetheless."

Unsurprising to any of us paying attention. But, this is a television show, so one has to wonder how this next bit is going to play out, right?

In this one episode, we've gotten to see how Garak can play both sides, how much we wants to go home, how much he hates exile. They've set it up for us to believe that Garak is going to do the wrong thing, here.

For goodness sake, Robinson was probaby peeking at the end of the script to see if this would be the one where they killed him off. It would've made narrative sense!

"I can't believe that you were once considered clever."

Oh, you Cardassian bloviator. How you've underestimated the simple tailor.

"I love Cardassia. Which is why I had to do what I did."

He said at the start of the episode that he will always choose Cardassia. And once he realized that the old frenemie ruined his Central Command-approved plan, he chose what was best for his homeworld and not what was best for him. And that, my friends, is a true act of love.

Why go into all of this when this is supposed to be a Garashir Meta? Well, because everything that happened plays into a simple, short scene between the two at the beginning of the episode.

Garak had to choose between a frenemie and the State. Like he said, he'd always choose the State. So, for once, Garak was not lying to the dear Doctor at all.

Now we get to one of my favorite Garashir episodes—The Wire. Because, let's face it, there's a lot of these two in this episode and Robinson is just... oh, chef's kiss.

PAUSE: Why was Julian Bashir my favorite character on DS9? Well, much as he was and is a gorgeous human who should be immortalized in marble, it wasn't looks. I was a child when I first watched the show, and I'm pretty damn Ace, so it's not about looks. No, it's about talent.

I long ago realized that I choose favorites based on talent. When The Backstreet Boys were big (and I learned a couple songs so I could sing along as school dances while cringing over the music videos), friends asked who my favorite was. "Brian!" I said without hesitation. "But he's not cute," my friends responded.

I hadn't even considered if he was cute. I chose him because he was the most talented.

My favorites of each Star Trek series tended to be the performers that I thought were the most talented. Siddig was unmatched, to me, amongst the main cast. It was only opposite Robinson where I saw two evenly matched performers feeding off of one another and elevating each other.

So, yes, I am gushing right now over Robinson, but accompanied by that is a baseline of being gobsmacked by Siddig.

Now, let's take that appreciation of these two giants into The Wire, which aired only two months after the previous episode featuring Garak.

"I hope I'm not boring you, Doctor." "Oh, not at all, no."

Bashir places a hand amicably on Garak's back, patting once and taking almost a full two seconds before letting his hand drop away.

"I just up late last night." "Entertaining one of your lady friend?"

C'mon, Garak. Just say it. You'd rather he be up late entertaining you. We all know it!

Also, glaring intensely at whichever higher up said, "Oooh, we need the pansexual lizard to reference the Julian is definitely all about the ladies!" Like, y'all, we can clock the queer from here. It's okay. You can totally let them be in love.

"Unfortunately, not."

Covering. This has to be covering. It's not like the good doctor can't ensnare some cutie with that boyish smile of his. But he has to play along for anyone listening along so they don't suspect his attraction to the Cardassian Spy. That's the reason, right?

"No, I was reading the last few chapters of The Neverending Sacrifice." "Isn't it superb? Without a doubt the finest Cardassian novel ever written."

Hold up. Hold up. This is boyfriend behavior. You're telling me he stayed up late last night reading a Cardassian novel? Like, he purposefully didn't go out or see anyone because he wanted to do something that connects him to Garak!?

Oh, honey. Now I see why you had to cover with that "unfortunately no ladies" thing. You're down bad for lizard boy.

"There's always Quark's." "True. But I'm really not in the mood for noisy, crowded, and vulgar today." "I suppose the Klingon restaurant is out of the question."

Is this flirty? My dear Siddig, you really played this line as flirty! And I adore it!

"Maybe if you lent me another book by a different writer-"

Again, DS9 writers doing the most with limited space. We know, now, that Garak lent Bashir the book. Some part of him wanted Julian to connect with this, one of his favorite books.

This is not Spy behavior, my dear Cardassian. This is boyfriend behavior. You crave genuine connection with Julian. This isn't fuck-town anymore where you simply want him carnally. No, you're developing feelings for the man.

In the immortal words of Whoopi, "You in danger, girl".

"It would only be a waste of time. When it comes to art, you're obviously a prisoner of Federation dogma and human prejudice." "I'm sorry you feel that way."

Do you hear how softly Julian says this? He's genuinely hurt that he hurt Garak's feelings. He wants to smooth it over by trying, again. Pain seizes Garak before they can continue.

"Are you alright?" "I'm fine." "You don't look fine. Your skin is clammy and your pupils have contracted."

The wounded boyfriend voice has lifted to the concerned boyfriend voice. Garak smiles a bit, touched by the consideration, but also trying to put up a brave front.

"I assure you, I'm in perfect health. Now, you were asking about other Cardassian books, something, maybe a little more acces-"

He's trying to divert, to change the subject. But his pain is too much for him to carry out his usual subterfuge and obfuscation.

"Perfect health? Then Cardassian standards must be a little lower than mine."

Ouch, Julian. Did you really have to take that jab at the man when he's already down!? Julian places his arm around Garak to escort him to the Infirmary, but there's no way our dear Cardassian is going to let that happen.

And then we get to the moment I had to pause the video and search Social Media. See, a name popped up that I immediately recognized. "Robert Hewitt Wolfe"

He wrote this episode. And, as I opened a tab to Bluesky, I realized that of course, I follow him... and he follows me. Me!? Why me!?

Look, loves, I'm a former VO artist and actress from Virginia who grew up in North Carolina. Yes, I grew up on film sets, but that was a whole other part of my life. I have some incredible folks who follow me on Social Media, and I've never fathomed why.

So, honored as I am to find Wolfe following me... I have no idea why!

"I only wish my humanoid patients were as easy to treat." "Did Chief O'Brian dislocate his shoulder, again?"

This is so telling. See, Jadzia can tell from Julian's tone that he's not just talking about any patient. He is pointedly talking about a patient with whom he shares genuine connection. This isn't ordinary annoyance. This is frustration.

"It's Garak. Today, at lunch, he seemed as though he was gonna have some sort of seizure. He was having trouble breathing and appeared to be in a great deal of pain. When I tried to get him to come to the infirmary, he outright refused."

All he needed was someone to open the door. In seconds, he ascertained a lot about his Cardassian friend's condition. And now he's worried. He can't let it go.

I've seen folks talk about Bashir being Autistic-coded, and as the mother of an incredible Autistic-child, I can really see it. And one thing my boy has a really hard time doing is letting go when he is invested in something or someone.

"It's that damn Cardassian evasiveness of his. I mean, keeping me guessing about his past is one thing, but when it comes to his health, I don't know. Why can't he just tell me what's going on?" "It sounds like you're taking this personally." "I suppose I am."

Oh, honey, we know you are. The game of who Garak is and what Garak's done is part of your foreplay. But knowing that he is in pain and worrying that it's going to escalate is not fun.

"It's just that Garak and I have been having lunch together once a week for more than a year, now, you would think he'd come to trust me a little."

Honey, he roped you into a midnight trip to Bajor and trusted you with the truth about that Cardassian child. Did you forget about that? Or, maybe you don't yet understand just how much trust that actually took.

He does trust you. More than he trusts anyone else on this spacestation. But your soon-to-be-beloved has a lot of trust issues, and a problem with sentiment.

And I just realized I've written "Honey" four times in this Meta so far. And, no, it isn't common in my Metas. It seems reserved, right now, for Julian Bashir. So, in case you thought I'd missed that little quirk, no, I didn't, and I have no explanation. Anyway...

"Why should he? It's not like the two of you are really friends." "Well, no. Of course not."

And Julian bluffs. He tries to brush it off. Because what they are will never fall into a simple label. It'd be convenient if it did, especially for the members of TPTB who were against this unlikely love affair.

But these two have a special bond that goes beyond any either of them has ever had. And while we only see Julian banging women on the series, this is supposed to be a more evolved time where we don't judge one another based on who they love.

So, it's unreasonable to label any character in the Star Trek universe as "straight" simply because of what we see on-screen.

Garashir hasn't been a phenomenon for thirty years because these two were friends. What they were and are is so much more complicated than that. But in this moment with Jadzia, Julian doesn't have those words and wouldn't even know where to start. So, he deflects.

"I suppose when it comes right down to it, I don't trust him, either. I mean, for all I know the man is a Cardassian spy."

Julian... honey... did you forget when you woke Sisko in the middle of the night to procure a Runabout just because Garak asked you to!? You trust him. And you're upset he doesn't seem to trust you back.

That's what this really is. He does trust Garak. And he wants desperately for Garak to trust him back. I mean, can you love someone you don't trust? Maybe. Can you love someone who doesn't trust you? Sure.

But trust is an important part of any relationship. And this episode really highlights that for Garak and Bashir.

"And if he doesn't want my help, that's his perogative."

Besides the obvious angry stab that Jadzia totally clocks, the emphasis on "my" is fascinating. Julian isn't upset that Garak isn't seeking medical assistance. It's about him. He's upset that Garak isn't seeking his assistance.

So, of course, Bashir leaves Jadzia and spies... his boyfriend asking somebody else for help. And, oh, that burns.

"You and Garak going into business?"

Busted! Nice spy work, Bashir. Looks like you have been paying attention.

"Really? I thought Garak sounded a bit upset." "Upset? I hadn't noticed. Now, is there anything I can do for you?"

Ohhhh, the jaw clench is working overtime. Julian looks like he might punch Quark right then and there. I mean, you can feel the heat coming off of Bashir, and that is all Siddig pouring it into the performance. So delicious.

"I was hoping you could give me a hand. I've been trying to access the old Cardassian medical files, but I haven't been having much luck."

Look at boyfriend Bashir using his free time to try to help his favorite Cardassian. Of course, he finds out it will take too long to get the files he needs, and you can see the frustration flash through him as he takes it in. Another dead end.

"Quark to Bashir." "This is Bashir." "Doctor, I need you in my bar, right away."

Let's talk about this, right quick. So, we all know that Bashir and Garak have been having lunch together at least once a week for a year, now, right?

So, when Garak is getting a bit out of hand and needs someone to take him home, who does Quark call? He calls Bashir. Because Bashir is Garak's person, and everyone who's paying attention knows it.

Again, this isn't a simple "friend" label. But Quark didn't call Bashir for his medical experience here. He called him for his Garak experience. And Bashir clocks the very drunk Garak as soon as he enters. He passes off his medical kit to Quark and sets his sights on Garak.

"Doctor. What a pleasant surprise. I apologize for my outburst at lunch, but I promise I'll make it up to you. Please, join me." "I think I will. May I?" "By all means... What are you doing!?"

Note the different responses to the different people. Quark and Garak have a "friendly" association, but they aren't friends. Bashir is the closest thing to a friend Garak has.

"I think it's a little noisy in here. I'd prefer to drink somewhere quieter."

As Bashir clutches the long-necked bottle, he uses Garak's own words from earlier against him.

"Why, an excellent idea. We'll go to my quarters."

Well, it's about damn time. I mean, yes, Garak did break into Bashir's quarters that one time, but this is the first time he's inviting him back to his place that we've seen.

And, Bashir, what are you doing with your face?! That open mouth. Those wandering eyes as Garak places the cork in the bottle.

"Whatever you want."

Um.... do you mean that, Doctor? Because, I'm certain the handsome Cardassian would love to take you up on that!

But, alas, nobody gets what they want (except Quark who snatches that bottle from behind Bashir's back as quickly as he can). Bashir tries to bamboozle his boyfriend into a trip to the Infirmary, but even blundering drunk Garak is still an astute Garak.

"I am not going to the Infirmary, and I refuse to play this ridiculous game."

Ah, yes, the games. A lot of their foreplay is in games. But, also, a lot of the way Garak's been forced to live all these years.

"Make it stop. Make it stop."

Because Garak really does want it to stop. The pain. The embarassment. The humiliation. The loneliness. The isolation. He wants it all to stop.

But that requires letting someone in. That requires trust. And, for obvious reasons, he's not one who naturally trusts with ease.

"Is that legal?" "It's in the best interest of Station Security. Doctor, do you want to know what Quark knows or not?" "I see your point."

Because he needs to know how to help Garak.

"Patient Garak is no longer in the Infirmary." "What!?"

I love the reading on that. It's exasperated more than surprised. Because of course that frustrating Cardassian was gonna slip out the second his back was turned. He stalks off to his boyfriend's Quarters to give him a piece of his mind... and find that he of course stole medicine.

"Ah, Doctor, what a pleasant surprise."

He meant it at Quark's. He's lying, here. He'd much rather be alone.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Oh, I love pissed off Julian. All he wants to do is help Garak, and from his point of view, Garak keeps making it worse by keeping him at arm's length.

His "What the hell do you think you're doing" screams, "Why won't you just let me help you, you foolish lizard man!?"

"Listen to me, Garak, I've had just about enough of your nonesense. Now, you're coming back to the Infirmary with me." "Oh, I don't think so. Believe me when I tell you, there's nothing you can do for me." "Oh, and Quark can, is that it?!"

Ooooh, there it is. I was right! Julian is jealous and hurt and he desperately wants Garak to trust him. Garak's eyes widen in surprise. Upon learning Quark couldn't get the item, though, Garak accepts his fate.

"Ah, well. Maybe it's for the best. My hypospray, if you please." "Another dose of tryptocederine might kill you." "Thank you for your concern, Doctor, but I'd rather have the hypospray." "I'm not gonna let you commit suicide. I'm here to help you."

But you can't force help on someone who doesn't want it. Not like this. Sure, Bashir could knock Garak out and get him back to the Infirmary, but that won't give him answers. That won't give him a path to healing. He needs Garak to open up and let him help.

"We've got to get you to the Infirmary." "My dear doctor, I have no intention of putting myself on display for the amusement of the Bajoran inhabitants of this statin." "It's not your pride I'm worried about. It's that implant you're carrying around inside your head." "You know about that, do you?"

Again, he's impressed. Julian has put in the work on this one. But this also illuminates why Garak has been so resistant to being in the Infirmary all along—he's a Cardassian. And he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is his exit.

He truly believes that Bashir cannot help him. So, why tell him anything? But the more he pushes and pushes, the more little truths slip out.

"Garak! I need to know what we're up against. If you tell me what it's for, maybe I could find some way to remove it."

There it is. We. Us. In the immortal words of Pacey Whitaker, "There's an us here, now."

Somewhere in there... Garak decides to tell the truth. At least, some of it. He leaves out his parentage, of course, but he tells Bashir about the implant, about his true torture in exile.

"Living on this station is torture for me, Doctor. The temperature is always too cold. The lights always too bright. Every Bajoran on this station looks at me with loathing and contempt."

He turned it on continuously a year before he met Bashir. So, we have never seen him at a time when he was without it. We don't have any clue what baseline Garak looks like without his happy pills. A terrifying and intriguing thought.

"So... that's it, then. You're just going to give up and let them win." "Them, Doctor?" "The Central Command. The Obsidian Order. Whoever it was who exiled you here. You're just going to roll over and die, let them destroy you, give up any hope of ever seeing Cardassia, again." "Doctor, did anyone ever tell you that you are an infuriating pest?" "Chief O'Brian, all the time, and I don't pay any attention to him, either."

I know this is not the best time, but is anyone else just waiting for these two to kiss? This is lover-level arguing, folks.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might be getting exactly what I deserve?" "No one deserves this."

There's that soft voice, again. The one he had when he apologized for Garak thinking he had no taste when it came to literature.

"Oh, please, Doctor. I'm suffering enough without having to listen to your smug, Federation sympathy. You think that because we have lunch together once a week you know me? You couldn't even begin to fathom what I'm capable of."

He's pushing Julian away. He's trying to drive Julian off because sentiment is a weakness that Garak can't afford. Right?

"I am a Doctor. You're my Patient. That's all I need to know."

And this is one of those moments where Julian really shines. Yes, he's been a bit emotional about Garak this episode... stabbing plans and all. But, when it's time to be the cool and calm one, he does it expertly.

I can be an emotional human. Heck, I'm human, so emotion is part of the whole shebang, right? But, when there's an emergency, I'm the coolest head in the room. I don't know if it's my Disaster Relief background, my News background, or just lots of childhood trauma that taught me how to be cool-headed, but I excel at it.

And, here, Bashir has shifted into his professionalism.

See, the personal side has been settled for him, in a way. Garak let him in. Garak told him what the problem was. He now has a starting point because Garak gave him something to work with. Now, he is back to being a Doctor trying to help his Patient.

"Wrong, again. You need to know who you're trying to save."

Watch Garak's face as he turns away. He doesn't want to do this. But he feels he has to.

What good is a spy with real friends? He needs to be ready to leave at any moment, ready to kill anyone for the sake of Cardassia, ready to face his end if that is the best outcome.

Garak puts distance between them, putting the actual desk between them, even though the framing obscures it.

He tells half-truths to Bashir—enough to hopefully drive him away, to destroy his compassion, to let him die alone and tortured by his past.

Bashir feels the full weight of the words and leans against the desk for support. Garak crosses back around the desk to stand alongside him, ready for his punishment. Ready for the rejection. Ready for the inevitable loss.

And the camera moves with him. At this point, we've spent nearly 15 seconds on this shot, already. There is no switch in perspective.

We are with Garrack as he rounds the table to Bashir, as he settles in next to him, as we transition from Garak standing alone and defiant, to him leaning, defeated, and worn... but not alone.

"I hope I haven't shattered too many of your illusions."

Garak lowers his head, closing his eyes, ready for his heart to shatter as his work is done. Yes, a lot of what he said is probably true, and he thinks it will be enough to drive his one friend away.

The shot is stunning. He leans down so that their heads are almost on the same level. Bashir is heavy with possible truths. Garak is heavy with fear and trauma.

"Listen to me, Garak-"

Cutting him off, because this is the second time he's said it this scene, but the tone is completely different. Before, he was angry. He was incensed! He demanded that Garak return to the Infirmary.

This time is different. And the writer gave Siddig the space to do this so beautifully—to show the difference between Bashir at the beginning of the scene and the end.

Garak looks up to meet his eyes, unsure of what he's going to say. There's openness on his side, more so than usual. And on Bashir's, a choice has been made—one that Garak didn't anticipate for all his possible scenarios plotted in the miliseconds used to gather his story.

"Right now I'm not concerned with what you did in the past. I'm simply not gonna walk out of here and let you die. You need to turn that implant off, and whatever withdrawal symptoms or side effects you may experience, I promise,I"ll help you through them."

Garak looks away from Bashir, his eyes darting back to the compassionate man before him. His plan failed. He didn't scare away his only friend. He looks away, unable to meet Julian's eyes.

"I need to know where that triggering device is. Where is it?"

And Garak tells him. At this point, I don't know if Garak realized that he would continue to deteriorate even after it was turned off. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't.

But I think he also realized he finally had someone in his life who wouldn't push him away, wouldn't give up on him, wouldn't denounce him when it got scary.

And the camera moves with Bashir. We've been on that same shot for an entire minute at this point. We started with Garak defiantly finishing his story, to the two of them meeting in the middle, to Bashir taking over as the man of action, going for the device.

As Bashir grasps the device, the camera pans up, Bashir in the background and a bent Garak in the foreground. Again, there's an us here, and the camerawork is helping tell that tale.

Also—over a minute of these two on-camera? That's sensational. Camera cuts can cover up a multitude of sins. From someone flubbing a line, to a case of the giggles, to bad blocking.

But Siddig and Anderson are skilled enough to handle the long take with ease. Both practiced performers who are accustomed to the unforgiving nature of the live audience on the stage, they take their characters through this journey together masterfully.

And, again, it's Anderson's reactions that really gut you. But Siddig gives him the space for those reactions to breathe. For example, when Bashir says, "Listen to me, Garak," he takes a breath, there. It gives Garak the time to gather himself, to take a breath himself, to meet his friend's eyes.

You can see Garak gathering the courage for his heart to break. Yes, he spun the tale that was intended to do just that. But, he honestly wishes it weren't so.

"Right now, I'm not concerned with what you did in the past." Garak's mouth opens. It's slight, but it's there. He's surprised.

"I'm simply not gonna walk out of here and let you die." Garak's eyes start searching Bashir's—he means it. This isn't a trick. This isn't subterfuge. He gives a damn.

"...I promise I'll help you through them." That's when Garak looks away. He doesn't feel like he deserves Bashir's kindness. If anything, he deserves to be abandoned and have his heart break before he dies alone, right?

It's such a gorgeous scene. The writing. The directing. The framing. The performing. The vulnerability Robinson lends Garak in that last minute, and the compassion Siddig pours into Bashir.

Some actors simply can't carry a scene like that, but these two meet one another, feeding off of one another, giving to one another instead of trying to dominate the space as the focal point.

And, look, for all I know these long shots are simply the result of the production schedule adjusting so there would be fewer set-ups and Robinson could get out of the Cardassian wet-suit faster. But, even if they are, they're still a wonder to behold.

"Well, that'll be all, for now. If you need to reach me, I'll be here for at least the next 26 hours."

Think about the nuance of all of this. He didn't bring Garak back to the Infirmary. He set up in Garak's Quarters to be sure Garak would be as comfortable as possible, but gave no thought to his own comfort as he's tending his patient.

Garak will be able to detox with dignity in private—save Julian. And Julian will fulfill his promise to help him through. The door chimes, and it's Odo.

"Come on, we can talk outside."

Yes, you could say that Julian is only doing this because he is in Doctor mode looking out for his Patient. But, earlier he was willing to do something illegal in monitoring Quark's private communications for the sake of information, right?

"I'm afraid your questions will have to wait."

And René Auberjonois' reaction is what makes this fascinating. He was not expecting the good Doctor to say that.

"Doctor, these are murder cases and Garak may be a suspect."

Maybe the human doesn't understand, right? Maybe if he speaks to the brilliant doctor like he's a toddler, he'll get through.

"That may be so, but he's still my patient and I'll not have him disturbed, so until further notice his Quarters are off-limits to everyone except Emergency Medical Personnel. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a patient to attend to."

Odo acknowledges it, but he looks back several times in consternation to the door as he goes. He's wondering about the good Doctor's motives, here. He is. And he's not wrong to wonder.

Yes, Julian is a Doctor tending to his Patient. But he's also a friend who made a promise that he intends to keep.

At first, Garak sleeps. There are fitful moments. And Julian watches over him. He hovers. And then, finally, he curls up in the chair and drifts off to sleep. He's exhausted. He's worn. But he wakes to the soft sobs of a Cardassian.

Can you imagine how unnerving it is for a hardened Cardassian spy to find himself crying in the presence of a weak human? A human he has trusted to get him to this point. A weakness he can't afford?

And, yes, he is under the extreme stress of detox. He has gone from reliance on this implant for two years to turning it off, cold turkey, and his system is in shock. He's going to lash out. And Julian knows it.

"Garak?" "Leave me alone." "I don't think that would be a good idea right now. Your blood chemistry is severely unbalanced. You need to rest."

Julian perches on the bed next to Garak, but they are facing opposite directions. Julian has one perspective, and Garak the other. He places a hand on the Cardassian's shoulder, and Garak lurches from it.

Ordinarily, Garak would welcome Julian's touch. Already this episode, this is the fourth time Julian has reached out to touch Garak, once as a friendly pat, and twice with the hopes of escorting him to the Infirmary.

But in his detox, Garak doesn't want touch. He doesn't want affection. He's hurting and angry and confused. But he's still Garak—weaver of tales and master of half-truths masquerading as full lies.

"Don't touch me." "Calm down."

Julian, honey, no. And, Garak runs with it. He starts destroying things—the lamp, overturning his desk with barely any effort.

"Do you have any idea what that means?" "I'm afraid I don't." "No, you don't, do you. You don't know much of anything."

Again, he's pushing Julian away. But when Julian brings up the shuttle story... the story shifts.

And we begin another long shot following Garak as he rants and raves, possessed by memory and haunted by the horrors he'd rather bury in the forced endorphines of his mind.

Robinson is monologuing. As a theatrical actor, this is not something that would be new to him. But a lot of science fiction simply didn't possess performers of this caliber at that time.

In this version, Garak is the one who made the unthinkable choice and Elim is the angry Statesman.

And this shot was 1:15 long. Yes, Robinson has the heavy work in this scene and is teaching us a masterclass on performing. But Siddig has to support without ever drawing focus. And that is tougher than it looks. Again, masters.

"And so they exiled you." "That's right! And left me to live out my day with nothing to look forward to but having lunch with you."

This sounds biting, and Julian takes it as such. But, underneath that is a truth—for an entire year, Garak had nothing to look forward to on this station. At first, he spied the spry Startfleet Doctor and though, "ooh, a bit of fun!"

But, now... time with Julian is something he looks forward to. For any of us who have ever been in a tough spot, felt like the walls were closing in, were struggling through life—we understand the power of having something to look forward to.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I thought you enjoyed my company." "Oh, I did! And that's the worst part."

Now, Julian knows that Garak is lashing out because of the detoxification. Likely, this isn't the first time he's helped a patient through this.

But they have the added layer of a friendship. Yes, it's one they both deny, at this point. Garak needs to fool himself into thinking he'd still kill Julian at a moment's notice, and Julian needs to underplay how much Garak means to him because he isn't yet ready to face it.

So, Julian averts his eyes as Garak continues, because he needs to try to keep this in Doctor mode and not take it personally.

"I can't believe that I actually enjoyed eating mediocre food and staring into your smug sanctimonious face."

Staring, you say? Yeah, I know, not the best time to swoon. But, y'all, he enjoys staring at the good Doctor and just admitted it. It's cute!

"I hate this place and I hate you." "Okay, Garak. That's your prerogative. Now, I really think you should lie down."

He's barely holding onto the professionalism, here. He cognitively knows well enough that this isn't as personal as it might seem. Garak is coming off of two years of dependency on a drug to maintain his happiness that is now just... gone.

The two tussle, and another seizure strikes. It's too much for Bashir to handle in Garak's quarters, and so they end up in the Infirmary, again, where Julian tries to solve the issues of Garak's continued degradation.

And after all that... Bashir still wants to help. Garak, now calmer, listens in on the conversation. He decides to share yet another version of the story, sprinkling in some crumbs that Bashir can choose to follow—or not.

"You've done enough, doctor. More than I deserve."

But what I find incredible about this conversation, is how Garak emphasizes that he deserved his exile for what he did to his best friend. Now, anyone who's seen the whole series knows Elim and Garak are one.

But who is Garak's best friend now? Has Garak ever had a best friend? Someone he could count on?

"Why are you telling me this, Garak?" "So that you can forgive me. Why else? I need to know that someone forgives me."

The weight of this. Yes, yes. I know they're about to hold hands and be all sweet about it. But that last line is important. Because in Season 5's "In Purgatory's Shadow" Garak tells Bashir how he'd hoped Tain—the most important relationship in his life—could forgive him.

There is only one other person whose forgiveness holds weight with Garak—and that's Julian. Julian places his hand in Garak's, and Garak holds on, holding the human's gaze.

"I forgive you... for whatever it is you did."

This. Is. Art. The pause. The shrug! There's so much going on here. Because Julian is intimating he doesn't believe he knows the whole truth, even now, while still offering the absolution Garak seeks.

"Thank you, Doctor. That's most kind."

Bashir used this word at their first meeting. Kind. Not a special word, in any fashion, but it struck me hearing it again, here, said by the other party.

Garak has been pushing Julian away throughout the day, but here he invites him in, a little. We went from "Don't touch me" to an outstretched hand. We went from him deflecting Julian to offering him the breadcrumbs needed (where to find Tain, information on just how dangerous Tain is) just in case Julian can pull this off.

Julian smiles at Garak as he fades off, exhausted, tired. And then Bashir shifts into "get shit done" mode.

"Still, what you did was very brave. I'm impressed... Are all the Starfleet Lieutenants as brash as you are?"

Tain, your son chose a good man—brave and true.

"Tell me, Doctor. How sick is Garak?" "He's dying." "And you're trying to save him." "That's right." "Strange. I thought you were his friend." "I suppose I am."

Now, we can speculate that Bashir is saying what he needs to say to get what he needs from Tain. But, we could also conclude that Garak is dying, so what's the harm in admitting they're friends at this point?

"Then you should let him die. After all, for Garak a life in exile is no life at all." "Say what you will. My job is to keep him alive. And I need your help."

And we're back in Doctor mode. It worked on Odo, so it might work here, right?

"Doctor... Elim is Garak's first name."

Bashir had been holding is own against Tain rather well until this point, but that reveal rocked him a bit. Even what he thought he understood from Garak's stories is now meaningless. "Just plain Garak", eh?

But, I think it's Garak's way of separating the parts of himself and who he is. Yes, he did terrible things. Yes, he also did good things. The Cardassian is as morally grey as they get on this show. Compartmentalization is logical for one forced to endure exile while pondering past predicaments that sealed one's fate.

At lunch, a pondering Bashir twirls his fork.

"So, how's the Idanian Spiced Pudding?" "How's the spiced pudding?! Is that all you have to say for yourself!?"

Love Siddig's read on that first bit. It makes me laugh every time. He's so indignant! So frustrated.

"I, for one, Doctor, am perfectly satisfied with the way things turned out. And I see no need to dwell on what was doubtlessly a difficult time for both of us."

Say it with me, folks: "There's an us here, now".

"Here. I brought you something." "What is it? ... More Cardassian literature." "I think you'll find this one more to your tastes."

This time, he isn't using it as a divergence. This is a thank you. This is him inviting Bashir in even closer than before. No, he still won't speak in full-truths. To be honest, he probably doesn't know how.

But while Bashir didn't enjoy the first book, he realizes that Bashir's openness to trying more isn't out of some weird ideology, but because he is invested in Garak and wants to understand him better.

The trauma of what they just weathered will endure—but so will the bond they strengthened in the flames.

"You know, I still have a lot of questions to ask you about your past." "I have given you all the answers I am capable of."

And, you can almost believe him, there.

"You've given me answers, alright, but they were all different. What I want to know is of all the stories you told me, which ones were true and which ones weren't."

Did you note Bashir's hands? This is how he tried to place his hands the first time he met Garak, when he got caught up in the plant, when he was completely flustered.

But Julian's tone is different from any other time they've had this conversation. Partially because he is now privy to information (Garak's first name) that Garak doesn't know he's learned.

I love the detail that now that he is on a closer-to-equal footing with the Cardassian, he can place his hands like this and pull it off without effort. It says something about his character coming along, I think.

"My dear Doctor, they're all true." "Even the lies?" "Especially the lies."

Julian smiles at his friend, shaking his head as he does.

It's one of my favorite Garashir episodes, not just for the incredible writing, directing, and performances—but for how it pushes their relationship forward.

Though Julian still has questions, he has a little more to go on—and while that little may not seem significant, it is for Garak. And I think some part of Bashir knows it.

They won't see each other again until Season 3. Now, the Garak seen in "The Search" doesn't even technically exist. He's not a part of the team whose minds are hooked up to a Matrix-like simulation. But that leads me to wonder—whose version of Garak is he?

Was this version of Garak programmed in for their enjoyment? Or is he an amalgamation of their perceptions? Also, since Bashir was one of those under sedation, his reactions to Garak were real, regardless of if Garak himself was.

So, let's talk a little about how this plays out for our beloved Garashir with the understanding that Garak's characterization is coming from somewhere, but we know not where. What we do know is that Bashir's responses are 100% real.

"Doctor! Welcome back!"

Alright, maybe this should've been the first clue that something was off—what the hell is Garak doing!? He's just puttering around at some weird computer for no apparent reason, pining and waiting for his beloved to return.

"Business keeping you busy?" "The tailoring business? Or the spy business? Joking, of course." "Of course."

Bashir is beaming like he's having the time of his life. 'And he is flirting. While we don't know who dreamt up this version of Garak, we know he's got the attention of the Doctor!

"I've missed you. I've been genuinely concerned for your safety. Lunch hasn't been the same without you."

Alright. Now I'm going for Bashir-influenced headcannon because dude, that is boyfriend-level dialogue I wouldn't expect from the usually close-vested Cardassian.

Is this what Julian wants from Garak? Is this what the Changelings think Garak would say to Bashir? Whichever it is, it's revealing of either how Julian sees his relationship with Garak or how the outside world views them. Neither is particularly straight. Just sayin'.

"That's very kind of you to say so, Garak."

Because he wouldn't say it, honey. But I definitely think you want him to. And don't think I missed you slipping the "kind" in there, again.

"I'm afraid you have a loose thread right here." ... "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were enjoying yourself, Garak." "Oh, not at all, Doctor, but after years of hemming women's dresses, a little action is a welcome change of pace."

Again, this is a simulation. But, clearly someone thinks Garak will take the side of the Federation in all this, and that he will very often be by the side of his favorite Doctor.

But, also, damn, Julian is flirty today! Like, "Having fun, darling?" Tell me I'm not the only one hearing it!

"I have them! I have them. By all means, Commander, do as they say." "Garak." "Now, you heard me Doctor." ... "You see, I pretend to be their friend and then I shoot you."

Again, whoever's idea of Garak this is, it's very revealing. Yes, he appears to turn on the Federation crew... before choosing their side.

"It's just something I read once in a book." "I'm sure."

But Garak here is far too foolish, engaging in flirtation with Julian when he should have been paying attention.

Real Garak wouldn't have gotten shot, here. He would've been too focused on the mission. Real Garak always saves his quips for after the danger has passed. But Julian thinks this is real Garak... and Garak goes down.

"Garak! Garak."

Julian rushes to his side, grabbing ahold of him.

"Doctor, I'm afraid I won't be able to have lunch with you today."

As Garak slumps, so, too, does Julian. Sisko grabs ahold of Julian, pulling him away, but it takes a few seconds for Bashir to be able to look away. Is Garak dead? Are they leaving him to die?

Remember, this is all a simulation. But for Julian, this is real. He held his friend as he died. His last words were to him—a sad farewell to their future.

Sisko's tugging him, but Jadzia pushes him, too. A part of Julian is trapped there, on that floor, fused to Garak in a way that Julian hadn't considered. But there's no time for mourning.

Yes, it's all just a simulation. Julian will lunch with Garak, again. And he does on-screen, only a few weeks later.

"There you are, Garak!" "Ah!" "I went past your shop, but it was closed."

And there Garak sits, at their table. Yes, they eat other places, but this is their spot.

"How was your trip to Klaestron IV?"

Aw! They know about each other's trips and movements. They care about one another.

"Garak, you're being paranoid. Are you saying the Cardassian government would have you killed if you left this station?" "My dear doctor, you do have a vivid imagination."

And Bashir is frustrated with Garak, again, but merely noneplussed, not upset. Also, in comparison to last episode this sounds like Garak, again. Weaving half-truths, not answering a straight question with a straight answer. Welcome back, buddy!

"Oh, good evening, Doctor. If you're finished here, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for a late snack."

Ah, yes, the classic excuse of using food as an excuse to be together. Food is necessary to life, yet? Even snacks can be life-sustaining at times. Hell, as a breast-feeding mother, I felt like I had to eat 24/7.

He wants to tell only Julian, but ends up having to talk to Sisko. Sorry, Garak. I know it's a lot more fun to talk to the human you want to sleep with than the one you don't.

But then he learns—higher ups want him off the station. Not only would that kill him because of Tain's orders, but it would also mean no more snacking with (and dreaming of snacking on) the handsome human Doctor.

"The Quarters on this vessel are rather claustrophobic."

Now, this might be a deflection, but I bring it up because back in "The Wire" he mentioned how cramped the Infirmary felt. Are these breadcrumbs of his claustrophobia? Happy accidents? We'd have to ask one of the writers to know for sure!

"Garak, do you know a way we can stop this neurocine gas?" "The only way to do that is to destroy the life support system."

I love this. Because Julian is the one to ask, he offers the answer, and Bashir's the only one to truly get it the first time through.

Is this because of his superior intellect? Because he understands Garak better than any of the others do? Hard to know, but our dear would-be lovers are definitely shown as being in sync.

"Well, tell me, Doctor, what it is exactly about this situation that's making you smile." "You, Garak."

Garak felt his darling's stare and looked to meet his eyes. In another situation, he might've flirted instead of demonstrated confusion. And while the Cardassian doesn't really fluster, it's one time where I feel like the Doctor has caught him off-guard.

I mean, we all love to see our crush smiling at us for no reason... but Julian's timing really sucks ass.

"Hmm?" "Just wondering how many other tailors can rewrite Cardassian security protocols." "I wouldn't even venture a guess. Which reminds me, those pants you wante altered are ready to be picked up."

Julian chuckles at Garak's change of subject—well aware, by this point, that his Cardassian friend thinks he's slick. But, ooph, there's a flirty tone to Julian in this exchange.

And don't think Garak misses it. Oh, no! It's just his hands are a bit full of Cardassian security protocols, at the moment, so the handsome Doctor will have to wait.

Also, the Yank-who-lived-in-England in me is dying laughing. While to us Americans, Garak is talking about two-legged garments that typically reach from hip to ankle, that's the American definition of "pants".

For Brits, pants refer to "underpants". So, while the writer most likely meant the former, my brain goes to the latter and has to chuckle along with Julian.

Of course Garak would like to see Julian's underpants, again (c'mon... no way he waited outside Bashir's quarters in "Cardassians" while he dressed!). But the fact that Julian is taking advantage of Garak's services is also intriguing—does he pay in Latinum? Or does he pay... in other ways?

Alright, fine. I'll stop imagining and get back to the task at hand.

"Garak groveling in a corner. That alone makes my trip worthwhile." *Garak straightens* "Garak!" "Easy, Doctor."

In real-world time, it's only been a few weeks since Julian thought he lost Garak in the simulation. He doesn't want to lose him, again.

"I should have executed you years ago." "Oh, you tried, remember?" "Garak. This isn't helping."

Julian holds Garak's gaze, though we don't know Garak's response. But this is such a lover thing to do—hold one another accountable in a moment of high-stress.

It feels like there's some exchange we miss between them based on how long it takes Julian to look to Jadzia, but I don't mind that. I don't mind that we miss it. What matters is that we knew it happened.

It will be months before we see these two together on-screen again, and Garak must not hold that last exchange against Julian because he comes bearing gifts. That's right! It's Julian's 30th birthday episode.

"Well, if you like, I can help you set up an exercise program in one of the holosuites."

Escalating the relationship, again, I see. But, truly, we've gone from lunch once a week to trusting one another in tight places, to Julian frequenting the tailor's for alterations of trousers (seriously, Jules, just ask the replicator for shorter legs! We all know it's pretense to see your favorite Cardassian between nibbles).

Now, they're considering holosuite dates. Yup. That's how I'm going to look at it through my delusional glasses! Holosuite dates.

"Speaking of holosuites..."

I want to ravish you on Risa. Not what he said? Okay, fine, I'll get back to proper transcription.

"Happy birthday."

Is there a ribbon on that!? Elim Garak, you wrapped your pet human's present!?

"I know it's a few days off, but I wanted to give you your present early."

Y'all, the former spy and ruthless mind whose morals vascilate between dark grey and light great is a sweetie! And, frankly, Julian is a bit of an ass.

Did your parents never teach you to politely say, "Thank you"? Not, "I'm not into this because it's not my thing and it's not any fun" but a simple fucking thank you when the love of your life attempts to be thoughtful.

He even knew you liked mystery novels and tried to find something he thought you'd enjoy! Sure, it was a swing and a miss, but you didn't have to be that dismissive of the lizard!

At the same time... my reaction to the time my husband gave me a dolphin kite for my birthday (no, I have no idea how he got there, either) wasn't the best. So, I'll forgive you, Julian... for now.

"Is Lieutenant Dax throwing one of her surprise parties for you this year?" "Oh, so I'm told." "Well, you don't sound enthusiastic about that, either."

You freakin' cunning lizard. You accurately deduced that your darling Doctor's reaction wasn't entirely directed at the subject matter of the holosuite program, but something else entirely.

But rather than ask outright, the old spy pokes and prods to get to the point. Wow, who ever thought I'd write that sentence about this two and not mean it in inuendo!? Not me!

"I wasn't aware that humans saw growing old as a negative experience. On Cardassia, advanced age is seen as a sign of power, dignity."

There's some heat to this statement. Like, "Darling, I'm right here and you're not jumping on this powerful, dignified Cardassian?! What's wrong with you!?"

"And, look, Garak, in two days I turn 30. If I choose to be grumpy about it, that's my prerogative."

Garak supports however Julian wants to feel about it, and it feels very much spousal, this whole conversation. Like, "Whatever you say, darling". So, when Quark comes into the middle of the conversation, Julian has to shift out of spouse mode and back to Doctor mode.

"I hope you'll forgive the interruption." "Of course."

That was to Garak... why the hell was that to Garak? And why did Garak automatically respond as if this was the most normal thing in the world?

Is this still because of what Garak did to help Quark's old flame? Is this because Quark failed to obtain the merchandise when Garak's implant degraded? Or is it because Quark"s smart enough to notice when Garak is out with his boyfriend and doesn't wish to be disturbed?

"Goodbye, Quark." "Don't take it personally. He's turning 30."

Get. A. Room. You. Two. Julian glares at his husband, and I try to contain my giggles.

Look, I've heard they were told to tone down the Garashir at some point in the show. I don't know when that occurred, but I can tell you that these two are still steaming with chemistry and attraction.

"Garak!" "Doctor! What are you doing here?"

And just like the first time around with Garak not really being here, it's someone else's idea of who Garak is to Bashir. And this version of Garak is very handsy. So, once again, someone saw these two and thought, "Yup. Banging."

"I'll meet you back on the Promenade in half an hour. Be careful." "You, too."

Look, this probably wasn't intentional—or maybe it was, who the hell knows!?—but the way their hands linger as they pass off the equipment has me going feral. Because this is all in Julian's head.

It could just be that Siddig's fingers got stuck passing it off to Robinson and they're both so damn professional that they just kept going. But, shipper-girl likes to imagine there was some feeling in those fingers.

"I'm a part of you, remember? I know what you know. Well, maybe a little more." "Still the man of mystery?" "Oh, you wouldn't have me any other way."

Look, we will find out that this isn't a part of Julian, but an extension of the attack. But Julian is still flirting hard. Even in his mind, he wants to flirt with the Cardassian!

"I did some checking on Letheans. Their telepathic attacks are almost always fatal. I guess I was lucky." "Cardassians don't believe in luck, Doctor. You survived because you're strong."

And we can get into the debate about Julian's genetic enhancements and whether that played a part. But at this moment, Garak is simply impressed and Julian is grateful.

"One thing's for sure, you know, after experiencing life at a hundred plus, turning 30 doesn't seem that bad anymore." "In that case, happy birthday."

Bashir gratefully inclines his head to Garak, no longer grumpy about the big day.

"You know, Doctor, what I find most fascinating about this entire incident is how your unconscious mind chose people you know to represent the various parts of your personality... And what I find interesting is how your mind ended up casting me as the villain."

Julian searches for words. I don't think even he knew if it was truly him or the Lethean who cast Garak in the role.

"Oh, I wouldn't read too much into that, Garak." "Oh, how can I not?"

And Garak seems to assume that Julian's mind painted him as the villain, but I really think it was the Lethean who made that choice.

He needed it to be someone who Bashir would keep close through the whole ordeal, and they definitely came off couple-y in that opening scene!

"To think, after all this time, after all our lunches together, you still don't trust me... There's hope for you yet, Doctor."

Garak leans forward, grabbing onto Julian's forearm. And a coy smile spreads across Julian's face. That's the Garak he knows.

Only a few short weeks later, we've transitioned from Julian's complaints about Cardassian literature and mysteries to Garak's issues with Shakespeare.

I can hear my English and Drama teaching husband cringing from here. He is still amazed by my ability to perform iambic pentameter while still struggling to understand why it exists in the first place.

"But I'm sorry, Doctor. I just don't see the value of this man's work." "But, Garak, Shakespeare is one of the giants of human literature."

Oh, how the table has turned (well, Garak didn't know this one over, yet, but you know what I mean). For so long, Julian simply hasn't connected with Cardassian literature—despite his tries! And now Garak is having the same issue in reverse.

And, of course, the Garashir conversation is set up for what is yet to come. They talk about a great military man who couldn't see what was going on right under his own nose... hmmm.

And I'm worried Siddig is going to barf. If you pay attention to most scenes where actors eat, then tend to take small bites/sips if any at all. That's because this scene that takes minutes to watch takes hours and hours to shoot.

I'm uncertain if Deep Space 9 ran an A Camera and B Camera simultaneously, but even then, there are so many takes to get what will satisfy a director, most times.

So, every time Julian had to stuff his face. And that means poor Siddig had to scarf down that food over and over and over, again.

"Oh, you're fortunate. I have more time on my hands than I know what to do with." "Maybe you could finish those trousers I dropped off last week."

Hah! I am cackling with glee. A little while back I mentioned the whole US/UK pants/trousers thing without any remembrance that Bashir says "trousers" here. Yup!

Unless there was a special case... don't think Julian would need Garak to alter his Starfleet-regulation underwear. Now, is there was something special he wanted only for Garak's eyes, that's another thing entirely.

"You're going to give yourself indigestion."

Garak, you and I are on the same page!

"If you hadn't been so late, I could have enjoyed my lunch."

Awww. He waited until his boyfriend arrived to get his food! That's so sweet of him. Even if he's throwing it in Garak's face now.

"I have to go, and I'm sorry to leave you while you're still eating." "No, no. I'm done as well." "But you've hardly touched your plate!" "If you must know, I've been nibbling on Delavian chocolates all morning."

Babe, why are you standing so close to your human companion? This is one of those things I tried to point out to my husband early about Garashir—they tend to stand like personal space doesn't exist.

Of course, he pulled out the "It's 4:3 framing" argument because Deep Space 9 aired at a time when televisions were still literal boxes that you tried desperately not to knock over while adjusting the bunny ears to get the channel to clear up.

But then I showed him a couple scenes where the aspect ratio should have zero bearing on that kind of blocking that puts them in kissing distance, and he had to admit... they like to get up close and personal!

"Where did you get Delavian chocolates?"

And the tone completely shifts. We can infer that these are a delicacy, and something that Bashir likes, as well. For all their disagreements on literature, it seems that chocolates are their shared interest.

Julian, a moment ago quite peturbed, is now all smiles and intrigued at the idea of sharing in a chocolate or two with the Cardassian.

"Well, I promised my supplier I wouldn't tell, but since I deprived you of your dessert, I'd be more than happy to bring some by the Infirmary later this afternoon." "Why, thank you, I'd like that." "Until then, Doctor."

Garak inclines his head toward Julian, which we've seen him do before. And while Bashir has answered in kind, it has never been as enthusiastic as this time. Every ounce of annoyance he possessed seconds earlier is gone.

There's something so domestic about that. Matthew and I can have a disagreement, and then one of us makes the other laugh so loud it melts away.

"Are you alright?"

Garak lies on the ground, and while I suspect some of his reaction is well-practiced and conceived for the purpose of his mission, Julian doesn't know that. He leans across the Cardassian, then starts a quick check of essential points.

"But I'm afraid your pants won't be ready tomorrow after all."

Ah, yes, the reminder that he's a simple tailor. But why would someone blow up a simple tailor's shop?

"Could this attempt on your life have anything to do with the reason you were exiled from Cardassia?"

There's something so perfect about this question directed to Garak as Julian is out-of-frame, only his hands working on Garak to remind us he's there. Sure, Julian doesn't know the full truth, but he knows more than they do.

And that means Julian never told anyone what Garak told him. Oh, you two are just building and building your trust, aren't you?

Julian waits until the others leave to hand Garak a mirror to inspect himself, to open his mouth, to say anything at all.

"Someone should do a study." "A study?" "To try and figure out why some people can't bring themselves to trust anyone even if it's in their own best interest."

I like the way Garak looks up when Bashir says "anyone". Because, he does trust Julian far more than he should, far more than he thought he would allow himself to.

But a lifetime of lies is difficult to abandon. No, it's his security blanket wound so tight around him he struggles for breath, but will never admit it.

"Why is it no one ever believes me even when I'm telling the truth?"

And Julian launches into more American literature... a children's story. He hopes it will get through, but the secondary interpretation of the classic Boy Who Cried Wolf only supports their entirely different views on literature.

Julian hopes Garak will learn to trust people instead of lying so much they don't believe him. But the practiced spy has already demonstrated his viewpoint during "The Wire" when the story kept changing—never tell the same lie twice.

"I am not Doctor Bashir and we are not sparring amiably over lunch-"

Well, everyone seems to know about these lunches, don't they? Now, of course Odo would keep an eye on everyone, but I still rather love this call-out.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Garak." "So do I." "Is there anything you need me to do while you're gone?" "Like what?"

Water your plants. Walk the dog. Plan our wedding.

"If you go into my quarters and examine the bulkhead next to the replicator, you'll notice there's a false panel. Behind that panel, there's a compartment containing an isolinear rod. If I'm not back within 78 hours, I want you to take that rod and eat it."

Woah. I mean, I thought I was going a little too far with the wedding planning, but apparently not. I mean, if Garak's gonna be out here in public telling Bashir to eat his rod, the wedding bells might be a-ringin' soon after all!

"Eat it?" "Mmm." "You're joking." "Yes, Doctor. I am." "Very funny." "I thought so."

Gosh, the staging of this is so interesting. Julian is usually a hair taller than Garak, but with Garak up a step, he's towering over Julian. It somehow doesn't make Julian look small, but it does cast a different light over his face as he's forced to look up at the Cardassian.

"Then these are for you." "Dalavian chocolates. But these were meant for you." "I know. I thought you might need them more than I do."

And, finally, they've found a gentle love language between them—chocolate. Literature exchanges lead to rigorous debate, sure. And fun as that foreplay has always been, there's something so soft about this moment.

"Thank you."

Garak says it as softly as he's ever said anything. Julian came here to see him off, to give him a parting gift, to be the closest friend he's probably ever had. What started out as a hopeful hookup has become a relationship that will transcend the borders of convention the more it grows.

"Good luck." "Hmm."

And while Garak doesn't believe in luck, he doesn't take the moment to remind him. Instead, he carries that bit of sweetness with him as he walks the rest of the way through the threshold.

I tend to think Julian is the one thing he misses when he leaves the station behind. The shop is his cover, and he happens to be well-skilled at it, like he is a great many things. But we already know that living on that station is torture.

Julian is the one thing that makes him truly smile, truly feel. When he's with Julian, they debate, they banter, they argue, they laugh, they go through the range of emotions and form new connections and bonds.

But, still, his heart is forever Cardassia's. We'll get to that more later...

"He hides his true feeling almost as well as you do, Elim."

A rare compliment.

"Like I used to say, 'Always burn your bridges behind you. You never know who might be trying to follow."

Hmmm. And Garak decidedly does not burn his bridges when he says goodbye at the end of the series. So, might a certain Doctor follow? Eh, getting ahead of myself, again!

"Well, I suppose Garak has taught me to think of lunch as a sort of arena for philosophical debate."

Julian and Miles are best friends, no doubt! But Julian and Garak are friends, too, just different.

I have friends I can get into deep philosophical debates with. Hell, my husband is the one who gets the bulk of it! And it seems that it's dawning on Julian that he has a different type of friendship with Garak than he does with anyone else in his life.

It's not a grand acknowledgement of romance, but it's a start. Too bad his future partner is busy abandoning him for his fucked up father. And, yes, wanting to go home is a powerful thing.

But home is often more than a place. Garak hasn't gotten there, yet. And maybe he never will fully grasp that concept. After all, it's different when you're forced from your home than when you leave of your own volition.

Back to Julian, his looks whistfully to the table. Ugh, he misses Garak. He has come to expect and enjoy their banter.

"I take it there's still no word about Garak and Odo?"

Julian doesn't know that the word is bad. Honey, your BFF is off in the stars with his manipulative, narcissistic father and choosing his true home over you.

Poor Bashir just wants to know his friend—oy, we are stretching the meaning of that word, here—is okay.

The word from Miles isn't helpful, and the Chief departs without another word to his friend. Julian looks to the table, dejected and concerned.

But he doesn't know how much Garak longs for the approval of Tain—his father. And as someone who grew up with a co-dependent, narcissistic parent... I get it. I was in my 30's before I fully broke free. I don't think Garak ever did.

"The Founders? You want to go home to the Founders? But I thought you turned your back on them!" "I did. But they're still my people. I tried to deny it. I tried to forget."

And Garak cradles his head in his hand as the Changeling returns to his true form. He did his duty to torture Odo to extract information—but that glee that Tain described earlier simply isn't there.

Yes, Garak is good at what he does. He's clever. But there's a difference between doing what you think you must do and wanting to do it.

For the first time, we really have to wonder what Garak truly wants. He has always sworn allegiance to Cardassia and to the State. He has repeatedly chosen what he thought best for Cardassia, even if it wasn't what was best for him.

But is he the same Cardassian he was? Was he ever who Tain wanted him to be? And you might think, "What the fuck does this have to do with Garashir!?" But, for Garak, his heart and allegiances will always tear him from Julian.

"What could have happened?!" "I'm afraid the fault, dear Tain, is not in our stars but in ourselves." "What!?" "Something I learned from Doctor Bashir."

And there he is, quoting the Shakespeare he so recently quarreled over with Julian.

"Welcome back." "Oh, that looks painful."

I was just thinking we weren't going to see Julian's reaction to them coming aboard, and there he is, ready and waiting. Just as he saw Garak off, he's the one who is there to receive him.

Garak stumbles a little as he walks, holding onto the railing on the wall. Then, he stumbles right into Julian as the Defiant takes fire.

Later, Garak returns to the wreckage of his shop. When he blew it up, he didn't know if he would return. Now, he has nothing on Cardassia, and he also has nothing here.

And in an absolutely stunning shot, we see Odo standing in the doorway, in the reflection, almost a reflection of Garak himself in that they both wish they could go home, but both find themselves, again, on this station—though for different reasons.

"Garak, I was thinking that you and I should have breakfast together sometime."

I include this because everyone knows Julian is Garak's lunch date. Even in this moment, Julian's somehow a part of it.

And that stunning shot is nearly two minutes long. Two minutes of continuous camera on Robinson, displaying, yet again, what a tremendous performer he is. And it's simply too beautiful a shot not to mention. Brava/Bravo to whoever conceived and executed it.

That's the end of Garak in Season 3. Though they waste no time in bringing him into Season 4! We meet him, again, in the first episode of Season 4.

"What I can't understand is their inexplicable hostility toward me... Perhaps they decided they just didn't like me." "Not like you. Impossible." "You're right. As always, Doctor."

Is it bad that my first thought watching this scene was, "Well, Julian certainly knows how to get Garak on his back anytime he wants"? Probably. But, this blatant flirting is the fun bit. And the only bit we get of the two of them, though Garak has some delicious stuff this episode.

It would be eight aired episodes later before Garak and Bashir see one another, again, but, oh, what a fun one that is!

"Who's that?" "An uninvited guest. Excuse me."

The applause has me rolling. Like, "Very good, Doctor. Excellent performance. This for sure will convince them you're straight!"

Julian crosses over the body on the floor, past the shattered glass to where Garak watches, wearing his own smart tuxedo.

"Nice tux." "Thank you." "Now, get out!"

I love that even though he is pissed at Garak, right now, he still can't miss the opportunity to compliment him.

"Ever since you received this new program you spend virtually every free hour in the holosuite. But you haven't told anyone what the program is."

His delivery on that last bit is so delicious. There's a point to every word, like a sharp edge as he takes in the ridiculous, over-the-top nature of this supposed spy tale.

"Am I supposed to?" "No, no. No. But you're such a, forgive me, a talkative man and it's so unusual for you to have secrets."

I love how he reaches out to clutch Julian's forearm and doesn't let go until he finishes speaking. And, we will later find out that Julian does have a secret, though I don't know if at this point either actor knew it.

Sometimes the actor knows the big twist or big secret, like Kristen Bell and The Good Place. But other times, they don't, like Amanda Abbington in Sherlock.

It can change up how you play something as a performer. Sometimes it's for the better, and sometimes not. It's another two seasons before Siddig beautifully monologues about Julian's childhood.

But did the writers know? Like in Sherlock, there are plenty of cases where the Writers know something and haven't yet told the actors. Happens more often than you can think! It's one of those cases I truly wonder and wish I had an answer.

"I must have picked up that habit from you."

Flirting, again, Julian!? Are you hoping it'll appease him and he'll leave you be?

"Now, if you'll excuse me-"

Julian steps over the body, but Garak steps with him.

"Is this fantasy of yours truly revealing of your inner psyche?"

Did I fall in love with a total dork, Bond-wannabe? Seriously, there's a touch of disbelief in his tone.

"What?" "Is that why you're so protective?"

Garak steps closer to Julian—far closer than needed. My husband has brought up the "It was 4:3, they had to stand close together!" argument before, but when I showed him this one, he just laughed and shook his head.

This is boyfriend space. This is, "I'm gonna kiss you if you let me" space.

"Are you afraid that I'll find out some humiliating secrets of the real Julian Bashir?" "This is a fantasy. I'm not hiding anything." "Well, if you've nothing to hide, why not let me stay?"

Somehow, Garak still finds a way to talk with his hands without brushing Julian's chest—which, let's be real, is totally on his mind at all times—and Julian keeps his eyes locked on Garak's.

Garak notes Julian's lack of quick response and quirks his head to the site, a smile crossing his features. He knows he's got him where he wants him.

He once interrogated a man by staring at him for hours. Now, those same eyes turn puppy-dog as he entices his human bae to let him get his way. And Garak gets his way.

"All right." "Ah."

And the Bond girl wannabe is pissed. Not only is she not getting laid, now she has to compete for the sexy man's attention with a dashing Cardassian.

"Now, I have to be at work in two hours, and I'd like to enjoy myself, so keep quiet and don't rain on my parade."

That last bit is pointed. This is like when I have to remind Matthew not to make fun of me for watching super cheesy Christmas movies at Christmastime. I'm so stressed with work and family drama that I need something that just makes me smile.

Julian needs his would-be hubby to be chill so he can have some much-needed fun that doesn't require him to be everything he is. For a little while, he wants to be something he isn't just to unwind.

Gosh, I feel that. So, c'mon, Garak, let your boytoy have his fun.

"Parade?" "Nevermind." "Don't worry, Doctor. I can be very discreet. You'll barely know I'm here."

Are you thinking you're going to watch him have sex? Like, just how discreet do you need to be right now!? But, even though the Earth-ian reference went over Garak's head, he has committed to this, now. The Cardassian is along for the ride.

"She seemed so interested in your advances just a moment ago. I wonder what scared her away."

Julian and I have the same thought: Really Garak!? As if you don't know what scared her off?

"Oh, no. I do apologize."

Now, in another version of this show, Julian would realize that the reason that things just keep not working out with him with other people—virtual or otherwise—is that he's got it bad for a certain lizard man.

"You must be incensed! In fact, if I were in your shoes, I'd grab a bottle of champagne, and shoot me." "I can see I'm going to regret this."

First off, Garak's interpretation of Bond films isn't too far off my own circa 1990's era Bond. Also, way to be transparent about your kinks, Garak!

Now, Julian could just rescind the permission to hang out, but he doesn't. Why not? I don't think he's worried about being rude to the Cardassian. Perhaps, though, he wants to prove to himself that he has nothing to hide.

Garak claps a hand on Julian's shoulder as they walk.

"Don't worry, Doctor. We're going to have a wonderful time. After all, what could possibly go wrong?"

Classic line, here. Famous last words. If ever you're watching a movie or television show and someone utters a "what's the worst that can happen?" or "what could possibly go wrong?" just know—the worst is about to happen and everything is going to go wrong.

"You live here?" "That's right." "Decorate it yourself?" "The decor is appropriate for the period—1964."

I love how much fun Garak is having with this. He's taking it all in and soaking it all up. This place is far more cluttered than Bashir's quarters in real life, which Garak broke into and probably memorized in case he ever needed to plant something on the unsuspecting Doctor.

"I think I joined the wrong intelligence services."

It's so nice to be so far beyond Garak having to hide his past allegiances. Yes, there's intrigue left with the ole Cardassian, but I like how casual these two are conversing.

And I love how Julian is lounging. Maybe it's his character. Maybe it's simply the way he sits on a couch like this. Who knows!? But, is suggests an openness and swagger that isn't forced like his earlier characterizations, but simply an extension of who he is.

"Yes, this should do nicely. Though I'm not too sure about the collar." "It's perfect."

I have so many questions. Look, Holodeck stuff has always been a little fuzzy to me. Like, did they replicate some clothing? Or did they ask the system to assign them new clothing? Can they wear these clothes off the holodeck?!

And if these are completely new clothes, would this mark the first time Julian's seen the Cardassian in a state of undress? We know Garak woke Julian in his jammies, once, and that he's fitted him for trouser alterations at least twice. But there's been no opportunity for Julian to see Garak in a state of undress until now.

Also, this is such a spousal exchange. Garak is the one fussing over his attire and aching for perfection, while Julian is the assuring one, telling him that he looks fine.

"Very funny."

Aw, nice to see the return of this phrase from Julian. But, no, honey, this isn't a joke. Garak really isn't trying to rain on your parade.

"You're bleeding." "The Holosuite safeties must be off."

Ever the Doctor, Julian's concerned about his favorite patient before he has to save another life.

"Try to stay cool, Mr. Bashir."

I love how as soon as not-Sisko leaves, Julian looks to Garak, who is definitely concerned about this situation.

"I'd give you both some privacy, if I could."

Garak, my love, you know you can at least turn around. No, you want Julian to know you are watching him.

"Kiss the girl, get the key. They never taught me that in the Obsidian Order."

I love how impressed Garak is with Julian. He just picked a freakin' 20th century lock! Like, that isn't an essential course at Starfleet Academy!

"Yes, they might be killed, and that is unfortunate, but there comes a time when the odds are against you and the only reasonable course of action is to quit." "Quit?" "Yes!" "Is that what they taught you in the Obsidian Order? To give up when things get tough?" "As a matter of fact, they did."

It's a real argument. And I'm one of those that things disagreements are healthy in relationships. Now, this exact scenario is a bit specific, but it still stands. These two were due for their first real fight.

"Don't." "Or what? You'll kill me?"

He really doesn't believe Julian will pull that trigger. Much as Garak recommended shooting him earlier, that was before the security protocols went down.

"You'll be fine. It's just a flesh wound."

And here, Garak sees that Julian can make that call. Garak told him earlier that he might have to make a hard choice, that he might not be able to save everyone. And while I don't think Garak thought he'd be the one going down, he's impressed. And all the fire of their argument has died.

"That was awfully close. What if you'd killed me?" "What makes you think I wasn't trying?" "Doctor, I do believe there's hope for you, yet." "I'm so relieved."

Garak's impressed. Garak's surprised. Garak's really turned on.

I mean, Julian's dropped his voice into this husky range he hardly ever uses, and it is working its magic on the Cardassian. If they weren't in mortal danger, he might've asked the Doctor to take him right then, right there, against the wall.

"Now, we have to get to the control room. Are you coming or not?"

And like quarrelling lovers, they don't have to discuss or announce the end of the fight. Both of them know it's over, and Garak won't be calling for the door, again.

"Well, who am I to question Julian Bashir, secret agent? Lead on!"

The way that Cardassian is looking at that Human... he wants to lick him up with a spoon. He wants him in every way and none of them clothed. He's too horny to protest the mission.

Shoot me? Oh, darling, I'm yours! Look, everyone has their kinks. No shaming Garak's!

"I'm an intelligence agent,a nd if there's any one thing I've learned it is that there comes a point when the odds are against you, and there is no reasonable course of action but to quit."

Oh, darling, you were listening! Seriously. That's Garak's look as he watches with pride.

"How do you think I've managed to stay alive so long when all of my compatriots are dead? It is because I have known when to walk away."

I have a somewhat photographic memory...but it isn't that good. Yes, I'm aware this is a television program, Julian has a genetically altered brain, and it's all a flight of fancy. But, it's still dang impressive.

I mean, if Garak wasn't already horny for honey, he's positively bursting with desire, now!

"I suppose the only thing left to do, now, is to kill you."

Watch how Garak responds to that, ready to leap, surprised by how steady Julian is standing, waiting for the shot. It's only a simulation, sure, but one with the safeties turned off. The good Doctor could die. And he's not running from it.

"You can leave the Holosuite, now." "Thank you."

It's another long Garashir shot. But these two seasoned pros can handle it, and they carry each beat of the scene through—from returning to the banter of who's teaching who, to their next lunch.

"Lunch tomorrow?" "Of course."

Julian's the one to broach it, signaling he'll forgo a lunch on the holodeck if it means time with Garak. Then, Garak turns it on his head, offering to return to the Holosuite with him.

This is so fucking couple-y. How many times do we go back and forth with our partner, both trying to make the other happy? Both trying to make the other feel seen, and heard, and valued?

"Oh, I think it's safe to say Julian Bashir, secret agent will return." "Mmm."

And while it's not a full minute on this shot, it's still another delightful one where these two nail blocking with no markers I can see, and remind us just how good they are.

I think this episode was important for them both. The first time Julian stood up to Garak in "Cardassians" was important. He needed to demonstrate he wasn't subservient to the Cardassian, that he was a critical thinker.

This, too, was important. Because from the moment they relaized the safety protocols were disengaged, the game changed from harmless to extremely dangerous. And Garak didn't know if he could trust Julian to make the tough call.

Nothing in their relationship has ever put them in this place—where they are actually facing down death side-by-side.

When Garak chooses to save himself, it is a bit selfish, sure. He has made these choices, before, to stay alive. But once he knows that Julian is solid, he's solid.

Yes, he's horny as fuck when Julian grazes him with a projective object. But he is also impressed. If Julian was willing to shoot him, who he knows considers him a friend, then he's ready for whatever they are going to face.

Garak needed that assurance. And then when Julian was willing to let Sisko kill him if it meant saving everyone else, he got to see what a hero truly looks like. Like he said, he's no hero. But Julian just might be, at least in Garak's eyes.

The next time these two get to share a scene it's been months and... it's weird. Look, I never got the whole "Let's pair Garak with a probably-teenage girl" plan. It's creepy. It's weird. It's a fucked up plan to try to convince anyone he's straight.

Like, would he get with a woman? Sure. But that lizard wants to be with adults, please. And he's been pretty fixated on Bashir for a bit, hoping the good Doctor realizes his horizons have already widened and when he does, spreads his legs in kind.

As a girl who was 13 when this aired and who was assaulted by her grandmother's friend the year before, this just didn't play. So, maybe my perceptions are a bit colored on this one, but I just couldn't get behind it. It creeped me out.

Let's get back to flirty Garashir, shall we?

Now, we are setting up the above-mentioned quesitonable relationship. Now, my husband and father both said they always saw it as Garak wanting to take care of her in a parternal way. But as a girl, I saw it as something far seedier. Let's see what I think on this watch, shall we?

Y'know what, screw it, I'm just focusing on the Garashir. Because these two are being adorably married right now!

Garak and Bashir are doing something social besides lunch. They're attending a sporting event together! And this definitely feels like one of those things that one attends for the sake of one's spouse.

Matthew and I are blessed to have a lot of overlap in our interests, but there are times one of us is in a sitution—usually Matt—where there are definitely other things he could be doing, but his want to be with me overrides his desire to be elsewhere.

In short—Garak tagged along for his boytoy's choice of entertainment.

"Stop watching her."

Oooh, someone's jealous! Julian, darling, Garak had to watch you make out with half the senior staff. You can simmer down about him glancing at someone.

"What does she expect? She's the only Cardassian woman on the station. She's must know she's bound to attract some attention." "Some, yes. Yours, no."

Wow, Julian! Getting a bit possessive of your favorite Cardassian, are we? Or do you worry Garak's just trying to stir shit up with his favorite rival, Gul Dukat?

And that pointed look Bashir offers Garak reminds me of the last time he had to be firm with Garak (that time in front of Gul Dukat) about something. This is partner-level shit.

"I simply thought it would be polite to say hello, but clearly you don't think I'm capable of conducting any kind of pleasant discourse without some kind of nafarious ulterior motive."

Garak is getting a bit defensive and worked up about this. But, I'm focused on Julian, who is giving the, "really, now!?" look that any spouse knows well. Like, we're arguing about this now!?

And Julian gets so into Garak and giving him his full attention that he misses the big finish.

"What happened?" "A brilliant move on the part of the Major. You should have been paying attention."

Yeah, you cannot tell me Garak suddenly developed a love of the game. He did that to be bitchy because he's annoyed with his human boytoy.

Garak is used to having the upper hand in most situations. There are a few who he treats on a more equal footing—most notably Odo, Quark, and Bashir—and I find it interesting that those are the only three actors I truly think can match Robinson in skill and performance.

This is not to speak ill of any of the other performers. Not at all! But there are always standouts in any production. As mentioned before, that's how I first noticed my husband on the stage—he was mezmerizing.

Andrew Robinson is exceptional. The layers to his performance are what makes Garak really pop off the page and onto the screen. Garak was my father's favorite character of the series and he was not even a series regular, but a guest star whose impact on the show is unmistakeable.

Julian was my favorite character of the show, as mentioned before, but part of what made him thus was Siddig's performance. We'll get to some more meaty episodes for him later, but he has that defining trait of every great actor—we believe him.

So, when you put these two on-screen together, it's exciting. Even in this scene where we're setting up Garak and Gul Dukat's daughter, I can immerse myself in the relationship between these two characters because they never lose sight of all the moving pieces in the scene.

Yes, there's a sports match. Yes, we are reminding a 90's audience of who the fetching young Cardassian woman is. But there's also the interpersonal relationship between Garak and Bashir that is at play. How they relate to one another as characters informs how they react to the outside stimuli. As I said—masters.

"Garak to Doctor Bashir, I need a medical emergency team sent to my shop immediately."

There's so much at play, here. This is just expertly written. Someone who really understood Garak's character.

Annnnd, I just checked and it's Robert Hewitt Wolfe, again. Of course! But, honestly, this just encapsulates so much about Garak in about three seconds.

Yes, he is calling his darling directly and not the Infirmary. But that's not just because he thinks Bashir is cute. Let's break this down.

First off, Garak immediately reaches for Odo's combadge instead of leaving the shop to get help. That's quick thinking. Second, he called Julian directly and then asked him to send an emergency medical team to his shop.

Garak is thus reaching out to someone he knows will take him seriously, who won't ask questions, and by being vague, the Cardassian has protected Odo's privacy.

Think about it—he doesn't know where Bashir is when he calls. What if he is with a criminal who might want to take advantage of Odo being out of commission?

This is all of Garak's skills at play, here. And it's all done in about three seconds. Fucking masterful.

"As I recall, Proconsul Merrock was poisoned." "Funny, I don't remember that. But, then again, so many Romulan dignataries died unexpectedly that year." "Must be hard to keep them all straight."

Wait... is Bashir in on this? I mean, I imagine he must have some idea of why the Cardassian was allowed on the trip, right?

"Maybe we should let the Constable get some rest."

Oooh, he's got his "honey, not now" voice on! So, Julian's not in on the game. Which means a moment ago he really was getting caught up in the story, true or not.

But with that glare, he is clearly trying to silence the Cardassian. And it drips with the sexual tension between two people who are banging and look forward to some makeup sex after the argument, or two people who probably should be banging to cut through some of that sexual tension.

And after Odo dismisses him, you can hear Julian hiss out an annoyed sigh. It's not at Odo—it's at Garak. Because he's blaming Garak for winding up his patient.

So why does Bashir think Sisko allowed Garak on this mission? Out of the goodness of his heart?

"How do I look, Doctor?" "Does it matter?"

Honey, your Cardassian lover is asking you if he looks cute and you respond with does it matter?! What is wrong with you!? Tell the man he looks fashonable and kiss him full on the mouth, already.

"Then, I'll be right outside... it can wait, Garak." "Of course."

It's another case of Julian getting the upper hand with Garak—and he lets him. Oh, we all know that Garak doesn't willingly give up the upper hand unless he wants to. And he likes when Julian is the dominant one between them.

Yes, there are times when Garak likes to be the authority—always trying to teach Julian things. But theres a shift in Our Man Bashir where Garak realizes he may have a thing or two to learn from the handsome Doctor.

I think it's the one relationship in his life where he enjoys someone else being on top. *ahem* And, no, I didn't write that sentence intending the inuendo. But once it was written, it was right there!

It takes until episode 8 of Season 5 for us to see Garak, again. Julian beams onto the Runabout and does a cursory glance over the crew. His eyes hang noticeably on Garak.

No, I'm not making this up, folks. He really does linger on looking at Garak before shifting to the crew member nearest him to start scans, which is what he should do.

"Could these stimuli cause more serious injuries?" "I don't think he could spontaneously break a bone, but he could certainly stop his heart or break a key blood vessel in his brain."

What the fuck was that, Siddig!? I mean, rewatch that last bit. I know I did several times. Yes, Bashir is listing off factual information, but at the very end there is a tinge of sadness.

Because while only Garak has demonstrated this so far, it could happen to any of the four. But he's still talking solely about Garak. And he's looking right at him.

That has to be actor choice, right? That he played it with such softness and sadness while looking in the direction Garak would be.

Fun Fact: Andrew Robinson likely wasn't even in the room. The way film and television is staged, the best way to do it is to shoot out the actors you don't need. Start with the angles that need the most people and then whittle down to the shots with the fewest cast members.

So, those eyelines are often an actor looking at nothing. Even looking at nothing Siddig lends a weight to that fraction of a moment that has me kicking my feet, giddy as a schoolgirl.

Another few episodes, and we get to the episode where we have the Changeling playing Bashir.

Now, the last episode Julian was wearing the uniform the real Julian is wearing later, so I like to think that the Bashir who was so concerned about Garak was our Bashir, and that he was replaced shortly after.

Timeline-wise, that about lines up. And while we will come to know that the Bashir that Garak addresses on the Runabout isn't our man, Garak doesn't know that at the time.

"I really must remember to stop underestimating you, Doctor... You've come a long way from the naive young man I met five years ago."

A compliment. Trying to smooth things over with his darling.

"They're releasing him from isolation." "Good." "Who?" "A friend."

And as they shove him into a wall, who should look up but the real Bashir. And who does he see? Garak. I mean, look at the laser focus here. Julian's eyes don't shift once they find Garak's.

And as Julian pricks his finger for blood, it's Garak who watches with the most interest. He needs confirmation that this is his dear Doctor.

And as soon as they are reunited... they can't stay apart.

"I should never have come here. I should have let that monster die forgotten and alone." "Frankly, I'm glad you came. Misery loves company."

And Julian truly is miserable in a way he's probably never known before. But now he has one of his best friends, at least, in this darkness.

"All my life I've done nothing but try to please that man. I let him mold me, let him turn me into a mirror image of himself. And how did he repay me? With exile."

I know this doesn't seem like it's Garashir coded, but it is. And I will explain why... in two episode's time.

Look, you don't have to wait two weeks and watch a thirty second clip looking for clues! It's just a scroll or two down and I'll explain why I transcribed Garak's rant about his father.

Yes, this is a spoiler-sprinkled Meta, so if you didn't know: Tain, you are the father!

"But I forgave him. And here in the end I thought maybe, just maybne he could forgive me."

This takes me right back to The Wire and a dying Garak saying he needed to know that someone forgave him. So, we can infer that if anyone's opinion matters anywhere close to his father's to him... it's Julian's.

"I've been a fool. Let this be a lesson to you, Doctor. Perhaps the most valuable one I can ever teach you. Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all." "If that's true, it's a lesson I'd rather not learn."

Listen to the softness of Bashir's voice. Look at how he looks over Garak in that moment, clearly pitying whatever drove him to say such a thing.

And the director gives them a beat, here, where they regard one another before the moment is broken. Look how Garak pulls his head back ever so slightly and his eyes widen as he takes in Bashir's words.

There's a charge here between the actors. A moment. A beat. A breath where something is given that others might have taken.

A lesser director might have broken the moment too earlier. A lesser actor might have missed what was there. This is about so many factors coming together to deliver a beat that means something.

Great television isn't about awards and acclaim—it's about something undeniable on the screen that is the culmination of hundreds of folks working together to produce something that steals our breath.

You don't see the gaffers, electricians, camera folks, Production Assistants, Craft Services people, writers, directors, makeup artists, hair stylists, costumers, Directors of Photography and more that bring every second of screen to life. But you see their work without realizing how much went into it.

That beat between Bashir's line and the door opening is important. It tells us who Julian is and the lines he isn't willing to cross. This is a lesson he refuses to learn. And Garak doesn't hate him for it. No, he envies him.

Julian's optimism and can-do attitude sometimes drive Garak nuts. Garak tends to think he lives closer to reality than those who drank the Starfleet Kool-Aid (or Root Beer, as the case may be). But there are times he must think, wouldn't it be nice?

"I thought you might want to know... if you wish to speak to Tain, do it now before it's too late."

There are no words exchanged between Julian and Garak. The Cardassian looks briefly to him before taking off for the door, the human close behind.

"Everything's gone dark. I can't see you. Are you alone?"

Garak could ask Julian to leave. But he doesn't. He doesn't know what type of conversation is about to come... and yet he trusts Julian completely.

We've talked about trust and Garashir before, back on the Holodeck. Of course, Garak hasn't had many people he could trust in his life. But much as he wishes he was as hardened as his old man—he's a bit sentimental.

Sentimenal about Mila. Sentimental about Tain. And sentimental about Julian. He's even started to care for other members of the crew... but not like this. No, this is intimate. This is trust.

Garak looks back to Bashir, making it clear that he wants him there, that he needs to be silent, that he's not asking him to leave. Julian widens his eyes briefly to let Garak know the message was received.

"Yes. There's no one else but you and me."

Tain goes down his list of grievances, and Garak tells him everything's in order.

"All your enemies are dead."

He says this, again, to Julian. It feels like part of the show. Are they really all dead? Who's to say. But Garak tells Tain they are.

"Then you can die happy... unless you still consider me your enemy."

He's fishing for that apology he so desperately wants. And the view shifts to a three-shot. It's the first time we get a really good look at just how intimate this is, Julian looking on as these two men share a private conversation.

It's an interesting choice to pull out right then, right before it gets incredibly personal. The staging reminds us of just how close Bashir is to the action.

"I'll do as you ask... on one condition. That you don't ask me this favor as a mentor or a superior officer, but as a father asking his son." "You're not my son!" "Father! Father, you're dying. For once in your life, speak the truth."

Julian leans forward, taking in the new information, looking between the two of them. He's absorbing what Garak's just done—and he's realizing it's intentional. Garak purposefully let him in on one of his greatest secrets.

For all the times Julian asked for truth and found it wanting... here Garak offers it wholeheartedly.

For goodness sake, we never even saw Julian comment on Garak's first name. But Tain calls him "Elim" repeatedly, here. So, if Garak hadn't figured Julian already sussed out that little nugget, he was willingly offering that Elim wasn't a friend at all... but him.

Death beds are often a place of truth, right? But for Garak, the truths told weren't the ones he needed to hear, but the ones he wanted to tell.

"I should have killed your mother before you were born. You have always been a weakness I can't afford." "So you've told me. Many times."

And now the impact of Julian's words hit the viewers anew—Garak learned the lesson of sentimentality as weakness from his Father. He tried to pass that lesson on to the person whose opinion matters most next to Tain's—and Julian rejected it.

Bashir stopped the cycle. And I think that caught Garak off-guard. Like on the Holodeck when he admitted there were some things the Obsidian Order never taught him... he's learned something, today, from the good Doctor.

And, look, I know this is a Garashir meta, but I have to call out Andrew Robinson for this scene. It's fucking gorgeous.

We already know he is just one of the finest actors to ever grace Star Trek with his presence. But the weight of this whole scene hits so hard. The emotions. The breaths. The emphasis. The line reads. Oh, it all hits the mark.

My mother never said, "I'm proud of you" when I was growing up. I rarely saw pride on her face, even. There was always some problem, some critique, some improvement. She wanted me to be like her, and lamented when I wasn't.

She's not the same person, now, but that doesn't change the past. And in this moment with Elim and Enabran where the son hears his father utter the words that he was proud of him. Oh, it aches in a way that only those of us who grew up craving that approval and always falling short despite our best efforts can grasp.

And Robinson nails it.

Julian hears this whole exchange. He hears every word. And he only speaks after Tain has fully faded. It's a single word:

"Garak."

It's wise of the production team to keep Bashir out of this intimate exchange until after Tain dies. We don't need the distraction of seeing Julian there.

Yes, yes. I love Julian, too! But that wasn't his moment. And the way it was edited and shot was brilliant storytelling that allowed us to invest in that intimate moment before pulling back out to the continuing plot of the episode.

I seem to remember something about non-Cardassians seeing a dead Cardassian body, so it's appropriate that Garak covers Tain up before anyone else comes in—but Julian saw.

This. Is. Trust. This is family. This is an intimacy that transcends, "I wanna fuck this guy" from Episode 1. Garak wanted Julian to know him in a way that probably only his mother and father ever did.

Tain is now gone. Mila is on a planet he cannot visit. But he still has Julian. And now Julian knows one of his greatest truths. Beyond things he's done and places he's been, the truth of being known for who he is... that is truly dangerous. But Garak trusts Julian.

And though the two Klingons don't know exactly what has transpired, they do know that Julian was present as Tain died. They do knot that whatever Garak had to say to Tain, Julian was present.

As much as Odo knew better than to invite Garak for lunch, I think Worf knows better than to ask why Garak would allow Julian to be present for such a thing. Really exemplifying the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" of the era.

And if you're too young to remember that particular Military Policy, I'd recommend checking out the Wikipedia entry on it, because it's pretty thorough.

By the next episode, we're all ready to learn how they get out of this one. And while the gang explains to the newcomers what needs to be done, we get treated to this adorable two-shot of Garak and Bashir.

Look, there is no reason for them to be in this cute two-shot besides the fact that they look adorable together. We trade Garak out for Worf, which isn't as cute (no offense, Michael Dorn! You're amazing!).

"You, on the other hand, my dear Mr. Garak are a man of many hidden talents." "Mmm."

Look, I know we're all on a hurtling asteroid waiting to die, but did anyone else's brain get broken by that statement?

We've had at least four "My Dear Doctor"s, but this is our first "My Dear Mr. Garak". Also, the return of "Mr. Garak" for the first time since the first episode. And my brain totally added the classic fortune cookie add-on of "in bed" to Julian's statement.

Especially with Garak's reaction? C'mon! That's a total, "you would know, dear" look!

"As of today, Cardassia has joined the Dominion."

For the brief second that Garak thinks he's going to be released, he looks back to Bashir. And the two have an entire conversation with glances.

There's the, "Is this okay? Should I go?" and the "Yes, dear, go!" and the "Alright. I'm going". And I can't help wondering if this was in the script.

This one owes its existence to Ira Steven Behr and (of course) Robert Hewitt Wolfe. So, one of them could tell us, of course! But it's one of those moments that is so amazing, but really could have come from anywhere.

An actor making a choice. A director spotting an opportunity. A writer making a point.

Wherever it came from, I love it. We don't see what Worf thinks about this possibility because we don't need to. Garak and Bashir have the conversation without words and say all that needs to be said and heard.

Side Note: Before we get into the first "Garak in the wall" scene, I have to call out Alexander Siddig (again) for how fucking dead-eyed he is as the Changeling. Like, one shot and I'm reminded that this is not our Julian and that fucker needs to die. Oy vey!

"Garak? How's it coming along?"

I love that Julian is the one who opens the door. Julian is the one who keeps the path out open. Julian is the one who sits there, calling in to Garak. And I love that he's playing with his fingernails when the scene opens.

It's those bloody details that have always stood out to me about performers. When they do something so human in the midst of all the posturing of performance. When the character becomes as real as the actor. It could just be that Siddig was annoyed by a hangnail and I'm reading too much into it, but I love it, nonetheless.

Also, the establishing shot of Garak is so gorgeous. That pan up? The full body shot so we can see that there's no room to sit, no room to rest, no room to shift into a more comfortable position.

We can visually connect with the claustrophobic nature of the setting even before we know Garak has an issue with tight spaces.

And that lighting. They found a way to make that read as a single light source in such a beautiful, believable, and stark way. We see the darkness threatening to envelop Garak if not for that blossom of lights at his face.

Yes, I know this isn't necessarily Garashir. But we need to know what this space looks like for later.

"Oh, come on!"

Julian is anxious to get Garak out of the wall, and this is before he knows about the Cardassian's claustrophobia.

They already said that Garak was taking too long because they don't want him to be caught in the wall. The guards are already asking questions, so they need to get him out.

As soon as they can get him out, Julian is there to help him stand up, holding onto him, being there for him.

"That was thoroughly unpleasant." "Are you alright?"

Until Garak takes a step back with his patented "I'm fine" lie, Julian still has hold of him with both his hands.

"It's just much hotter in there than I thought. I go ta little light-headed."

Elim [No Middle Name] Garak! That didn't work before Julian had a better understanding of Cardassian biology and physiology. Do you really think you can fool him, now?

Before Garak can finish the sentence, Julian has his hands on him, again, this time checking his pulse. And I cannot recall him ever doing so this way before. Really putting his new knowledge to work!

But theres also the steadying hand on Garak's shoulder. It reminds me of him trying to put a hand on that same shoulder in The Wire and Garak shying away in his withdrawal state. Here, he doesn't move away.

"Maybe you should wait until tomorrow."

Julian's hands trail off of Garak, but they don't fall away. They glide down him before Garak allows his fear to turn to anger.

"Do you want to get off this hell hole?" "You know I do." "Then let me get back to work."

The couple-y bickering is back. And they are standing way closer than needed for this shot, 4:3 framing, indeed! But Julian is in protective mode—both the doctor in him, and the lover friend.

"Rest. For five minutes. And from here on in, you can take a 15 minute break every hour. Doctor's orders."

Garak nods. He's relenting. He's giving in. He'll take whatever break he can get and he knows Julian well enough now to know that he won't give up on him.

But look at the concern in Julian's eyes. He knows Garak isn't telling him everything. He doesn't know what Garak is concealing this time. But it's incredible how this mirrors The Wire.

In both cases, Garak is trying to conceal something about himself and lashes out at Julian when the Doctor tries to push the issue.

But this time when Julian tries to help, Garak lets him. He doesn't fully let him in. But he doesn't push him away, either.

"I'm sorry, but that's absolutely unacceptable. I'm under enough strain as it is. I can't have you quitting on me!"

There are already tears in my eyes. For anyone who has ever had a panic attack and wishes desperately their rational mind could circumvent it, this is familiar.

I've struggled with panic and anxiety attacks my entire life. But growing up, I wasn't allowed to show negative emotion. I had to learn to contain it as best I can.

But no matter how much your rational mind protests, that suffocation comes and you find yourself trapped in its grip, unable to escape. And this is another case where you can trust your actor with the material, and he's going to fucking deliver.

Robinson is talking to a dying light. He has no one to feed him anything, to offer him anything, to draw focus in case he should flub it. No, the seasoned and practiced actor monologues on a Star Trek show to a dying light and to himself.

"Your friends are nearby."

Truth. Garak speaks truth. And even if some part of him isn't willing to trust it, he closes his eyes as he internalizes it. His friends are nearby.

Because in this tight, enclosed space... there's no one to overhear. There's nobody listening. There's nobody for whom he has to perform. These words are for him and him alone. And in them he speaks of Julian and Worf as friends.

I won't transcribe the whole thing, but even from the outside, the others know something is wrong. Of course, it's Bashir who shimmies into the wall to join Garak.

"Garak, you have to stop. You're making too much noise. Garak!" "The light. The light went out."

And that's when Julian starts to put together the pieces. He sees the vacant look in Garak's eyes. He notes the sweat and strain.

"I know. Come on. I think you can take your break a little early."

Julian puts an arm around Garak, clasping his hand on the Cardassian's shoulder. And as they shimmy, Bashir's thumb grazes in a comforting manner over it.

Garak doesn't fight him. In The Wire, when Bashir tried to comfort him and touch his shoulder, he jerked away. But here, even as he is not fully himself, he allows the Doctor to care for him.

Growth. Character development. Trust.

"We have to come up with a new escape plan." "That won't be necessary."

Julian's eyes shift to Garak with immediate concern as the Cardassian stands up. He doesn't move the blanket, but allows it to slough off his body like old skin.

A similar blanket covered his father's dead body. But as Garak sits up, he rejects that fate. It isn't the defiant move of throwing the blanket away, because that's not what Garak is doing, here.

He isn't trying to be the hero. He's trying to overcome his fear long enough to save them.

Where before he might have tried to save himself, he's trying to save all of them. He could program the runabout transporter code just to get him out of there. Garak of Season 1 or 2 might've done that. But this Garak has friends—friends he wants to save.

It isn't about being the hero. It's about each of them doing what they can to help each other get out of there alive.

"I just have to finish what I started. After all, a verse about the Cardassian who panicked in the face of danger would ruin General Martok's song." "That would be unfortunate."

And while Julian is further back in the shot, I cannot help but notice the way he looks at Garak—with a touch of awe and pride.

"Now, if you'll excuse me... my dungeon awaits."

Julian and Garak exchange the briefest of glances as the former moves to open the hatch, again. They're past the point of needing words. Over and over, this episode demonstrates how far they've come on that front.

They know one another. They trust one another. They've learned when to push and when to pull back. It's an incredible foundation for a romantic relationship, right?

Season One Garak was looking for a good fuck and a little less loneliness. Season Five Garak knows the value of friends—especially his friendship with the good Doctor.

As Worf fights, likely to the death, Julian is rocking and wringing his hands on the cot as Garak works in the wall.

"Can we get him out?" "No time."

And Julian knocks twice on the wall to prepare Garak. Garak closes his eyes and steadies himself. No words needed.

"Take it to maximum warp, Garak. We've got to get a message to the station."

And he leans over Garak's shoulder as the Cardassian gets them the hell outta Dodge. What they've just endured was terrible. They may never speak of it, again. But the trust they've forged over the last five years is only deepening.

Which makes it mildly infuriating we never get the full response from Garak to Julian's big secret. Yes, he gets to tell Miles. But I want to talk about that scene a bit.

And, yes, this is what I mentioned about fathers and pride coming back around from literally two episodes earlier. Tain was a man who was rarely proud of his son, who practically disowned him to protect himself from a "weakness" that he couldn't afford.

As we mentioned, I grew up not really hearing "I'm proud of you". I never felt like I was good enough. I tried to mold myself into who I was supposed to be.

And it was my darling husband who helped me learn to stand up for myself in my 20's so by the time the children came around in my 30's I was strong enough to protect them properly from those who hurt me.

Now, we get a glimpse into what it was like to be little Julian.

"The word you're looking for is 'unnatural' meaning 'not from nature'."

Yes, we're going to get into it. Partially because it's such a fucking beautiful scene, practically a monologue, delivered by a skilled actor who didn't need a thousand cuts to get it right.

And, let me say this—sometimes a thousand cuts is just what a scene needs. But the Director deftly understood that there was strength in the stillness, here. Without a series of cuts, we can really focus on Julian (and Colm Meaney doing brilliant reaction-without-drawing-focus in the background).

"'Freak' or 'Monster' would also be acceptable. I was six. Small for my age, a bit awkward physically, not very bright. In the first grade when the other children were learning how to read and write and use the computer, I was still trying to tell a dog from a cat, and a tree from a house. I didn't really understand what was happening. I knew that I wasn't doing as well as my classmates. There were so many concepts that they took for granted that I couldn't begin to master and I didn't know why. All I knew was that I was a great disappointment to my parents."

My Middle child is Autistic, ADHD, Auditory Processing Disorder, suspected Reading Processing Disorder, with Anxiety Disorder. In second grade, he was reading at a Kindergarten level. His twin excelled and he struggled.

And I, as mother, repeatedly told them (and their little sister) how proud I was of them, not for a grade on a paper but for who they were. And I meant it.

Little Julian never had that acceptance.

The Flowers for Algernon part of my brain wonders how jarring it must have been for Julian at nearly 7 to know how he'd understood the world before, and then to go through the process of seeing it anew. He transitioned from grasping for concepts others easily understood to moving beyond them.

But he never had a choice. He couldn't understand what was being done until it had been done.

By the way, that shot of Julian? Where Siddig acted his ass off? Nearly two whole minutes of performance. It's Masterful.

Garak and Julian both grew up with parents who were impossible to please, who wanted their sons to do what they would have chosen for their lives. Neither man had a good relationship with his father. So, though Bashir and Garak are set up as very different—and in some ways they truly are—there are other places where they can relate to one another that are special, intimate.

"What's the matter?" "Well, it's just that lately I've noticed everyone seems to trust me. It's quite unnerving. I'm still trying to get used to it. Next thing I know people are going to be inviting me to their homes for dinner."

Because everyone knows better than to invite you anywhere for lunch. Right, Garak? That's Bashir time! Okay, fine. I know it's a bit of a reach. But that was my first thought when he said, "Dinner". So, into the Meta it goes.

"It's hard to believe he's the same man who attacked us." "In a way... he's not. The drug brought out the worst parts of him and allows them to take over. He wasn't in control of his actions."

This is a very... interesting way of attacking this issue. I mean, accountability is a very important thing, and I feel like we're kinda skirting that, here. And there is going to be an inquest. I'm just not a fan of the framing, I suppose.

But, if I pull out of the part of my brain that tries to analyze societal impact of Star Trek and its eras (I gave an entire persuasive speech about Star Trek at University, so I come by this honestly), I see a man trying to protect Garak.

Yes, we set up the "trust" others have for Garak in the beginning of the episode and showed how swiftly it could be broken. There was a throughline, here.

That's it for Garak and Julian in Season 5. Season 6 gives them the bitchiest of bitchy moments and I love the writers for it! Let's see, that would be... Ira Steven Behr and Hams Beimler. Thank you both for your service.

"Ah, there you are. I was beginning to give up hope, Doctor."

Oh. My. Gosh. Look, I'm bloody asexual, but even I can see that this is the most snack-a-licious Julian has ever looked, and he's sauntering right up to Garak with a lot of skin exposed. Oy vey!

And he walks right by because he is having none of this shit while he's out there trying to save lives.

"I would think that all those lunches we've shared would have entitled me to preferential treatment."

Are you two gonna kiss? You're standing like you're gonna kiss. Just sayin'... it might be good for you... for your morale? If you... y'know... kissed. I mean, come on this blocking is not to account for the 4:3 format.

"Look, I have 12 wounded officers and crewmen out there, all of whom are in a lot worse shape than you, Garak." "Well, if you're trying to cheer me up, it's working."

I had to add that comma between "up" and "it's" and I wish I knew if that was Robinson or the script because it's just so bloody... Garak. Taking those breaths and breaks where nobody else would.

Also, can we talk about this shot!? This is a continuous shot that follows the two of them to multiple blocking points in the room while changing their positioning, the dominance of one over the other, the framing of one closer to the camera, etc.

It's bloody masterful. You have to have lighting in all those areas so they aren't in weird shadow. You have to have the blocking marked out so they aren't out of focus. You have the have actors who can carry that long a shot without needing to reference a line or struggling with the giggles.

"I'll admit the odds are not good, but they coudl be worse." "Ah, let me guess. You've used your genetically enhanced brain to calculate our chances for survival... I'm really not interested Doctor. Ever since it's become public knowledge that you're genetically engineered, you've used every opportunity to show off."

First off, this reminds me that we never got Garak's reaction to that whole revelation, and I ache for it. It would have been interesting to see if Garak suspected all along, or if he was truly proud Julian hid something, even from him.

Also, damn this bitch is salty. Honey, it's okay that you're not always the smartest in the room. Your human boytoy can one-up you sometimes. It's not a bad thing.

And I love how Julian keeps working, even adjusting Garak's head gently with his fingers as he tries to repair the damage to his head. There's a "darling, just do what I need you to do" feeling to it.

Seriously, this is a couple bickering. And if Cardassians flirt by bickering, Garak is waving pheremones thick enough to nosh on as aphrodesiac appetizers to an adventurous night.

And after an entire minute of a single shot, we change angles. Damn, I love these long Garashir shots!

"You're certain about that figure?" "Do you want me to take you through the entire set of calculations?" "Not really."

Bashir smirks as he shifts past Garak, and you can feel just how much they are enjoying this. Their time for rigorous debate at lunch has long since passed. Hell, we haven't seen them share a dining table in years, now.

Yes, the Changeling and Garak sat together, but that doesn't count. It was Season 4 when last these two sat and ate together, and now we're at the top of Season 6.

So, it's not surprising Garak has found a new topic for spirited conversation.

"'Genetically Engineered' indeed." "Excuse me?"

Okay, the way Julian pops into frame there cracks me up. Like, he had to answer that and Garak knew he would. Garak is baiting him into debat and Julian is falling for it. And at 4:06 we started another long shot of these two.

"Well, look at you. You act as if you haven't a care in the world. It's exactly that kind of smug, superior attitude that makes people like you so... unpopular." "Are you trying to insult me?

Yes, darling. Flirting with you helps distract him from all y'all's impending doom.

"A 32.7 percent chance of survival, I call that insulting." "Don't take it so personally, Garak. It's strictly a matter of mathematics." "No, it's strictly a matter of our lives. You're not genetically engineered. You're a Vulcan."

I love how Julian appears to rest his arm on Garak as he scans him, likely making sure that the treatment he did a moment earlier took, despite Garak's inability to stay still.

"If I'm a Vulcan, then how do you explain my boyish smile?"

Damn, Julian! You are finally catching up to the flirting, here. And I love that the smile he offers him definitely has the edge of flirtation to it. This isn't his dopey grin when he watches Garak rewrite Cardassian security code, or his big smile when Garak joins a mission.

Look at the way Julian's eyes seek out Garak's.

"Not so boyish anymore."

And, oh, you can hear the way he rocks back on those boots before sauntering off... a few feet away. Like, seriously, where the fuck is he going?

It's not about the destination. He really just did that to be petty to Julian, who is left definitely feeling that. Because, he wants Garak to think he's handsome, damnit.

Julian shakes his head to shake it off. But this remains one of my favorite scenes of the two of them.

And while that shot was roughly 40 seconds, and not as long as the last, it still constantly amazes me how little cutting they often do with these two.

I've done both stage and film/tv. They often take completely different skillsets, but there are times where they overlap, or where a strength in theater really comes in handy.

Remembering dialogue is part of the game with theater. Remembering blocking is integral. Remembering to listen and not just speak is essential.

Both of these two actors have experience in both, and that's why scenes like these sing. They know how to feed one another without drawing attention. They know how to react and not only act.

Yes, they have insane chemistry on-camera. But they also know how to use that along with their other skills. They deliver on every level, and it's a fucking shame they're used together so little after this episode.

Also, it's such a fascinating choice to see Julian debating so dispassionately with Garak while losing his cool with Sisko. This has to do with the different relationships at play, sure. But I find it fascinating.

One could consider it a coping mechanism—that Julian needs that rigorous debate as much as Garak does in that moment. And Julian knows Garak has no trouble making the tough decisions. Maybe that's what he hopes Sisko will do... but it's not his place.

"Garak? Come to see us off?" "Not quite."

And as the two turn to face Sisko... this could really be their wedding. I mean, yeah, not the best venue. The food's nonexistant and the music sucks. But, Sisko does have the power to perform the ceremony if they're so inclined.

"I invited Mr. Garak to join us considering we're heading into Cardassian territory I thought he might prove useful."

Julian is beaming. He's beaming. Earlier these two were verbally sparring, and now he couldn't be happier that Garak is onboard for this dangerous mission.

"Well, it's been known to happen."

Julian grasps Garak's shoulder and pats it several time before moving on, still smiling. Just moments ago each of them was lamenting what they didn't have on the ship. But now he has Garak.

"Captain, may I make a suggestion?" "Only if you talk softly." "We saw Dukat-" "Shh." "Wearing one of these headsets during the attack on Deep Space 9-"

This is so married. I have a friend who is Autistic who has a lot of trouble with self-monitoring when it comes to volume, so she and her husband developed a hand signal so he could help hold her accountable in spaces where she needs to be more aware.

I thought of that as soon as I watched this. God bless Garak, but he missed the memo entirely when Sisko said to speak softly. But, one glance at Julian's finger raise to his lips and he gets the message.

"Perhaps Cardassian physiology is more... compatible."

Julian's head swivels to Garak as he processes what the Cardassian is offering. It's a good suggestion. And, honestly, what was Garak adding to the mission besides eye candy for Bashir?

Of course, when the episode was written, this was all planned out. I'm not coming for the writers! No, I'm looking at it purely from the point of view of the characters, who got to enjoy Garak's personality while waiting for him to be useful.

He's a good little Swiss Army Knife of a character, where you never quite know how he's going to be useful. But Sisko's seen enough of him by now to know it's better to bring him along than not.

"Are you volunteering?" "I suppose I am. This ship is equipped with two of them. If I wore one, then you wouldn't have to. At least, not all the time."

Julian puts it together quicker than Sisko, and he likes this idea. Sisko is his patient, at the moment, and as the Captain, he needs to keep him physically fit.

"I agree with Garak, Captain."

And Sisko hands over the headset. But watch how Julian follows the headset to Garak, then waits to be sure he's okay. Yes, of course, he's a bloody Doctor. But, I still love the choice as a performer.

"We have to go to full impulse 1.3 seconds before the bomb detonates."

Bet you're not complaining about his super brain now are you, Garak!?

"Dax?" "The computer agrees with Julian." "Of course it does. They think alike."

Damnit, Garak, I was giving you some credit on that one! Nevermind. And the look Julian gives Garak! Gosh, these two are reading old married couple so much in this episode.

"How long?" "17 Years, 2 months, and 3 days, give or take an hour."

This time, Garak looks to Julian for the answer. This time, he knows that genetically engineered mind will have the answer he needs, even if it's not the one he wants.

And Julian delivers the whole thing directly to Garak. His eyes don't move from him. Theirs is such a fascinating connection, and I wish more of Season 6 between them had been like this.

There's a heat and energy that's obviously couply, but so electric and different from what they had before. It's grown and shifted and they're on a more equal footing, by this point, and they see each other on a more even playing field.

"Garak! I need a hand."

Julian calls out for him as help to carry Jadzia. He trusts him to help him with this. A few years ago, all of them considered Garak a spy and wouldn't trust him with anything. Oh, how far they have come.

Also, are they actually outside!? I love when they let the Star Trek characters bust outside the sound stages and breathe fresh air and have actual sunlight for a bit!

And I'm not going to comment much on the whole Nog/Garak adventure of this episode because, honestly, hearing Garak say words to Nog that hold such meaning for Garashir does irk me.

Now, Robinson is a pro enough to deliver them in completely different ways. "There may be hope for you, yet" to Bashir was sultry and horny. To Nog, it's upbeat and slick.

But it's not my favorite choice when it comes to resuscitating previous dialogue in a new setting. I will admit that much.

"That's the eleventh ship to fall out of formation." "Nice of you to keep track, Garak." "He can't help being negative. It's in his nature." "On the contrary, I always hope for the best. Experience unfortunately has taught me to expect the worst."

Garak turns fully to face Julian to deliver this one. Wow, these two are in a catty phase!

"They outnumber us two to one." "Now who's being negative?"

Julian doesn't acknowledge him, but I love Garak trying to get that little jab in there. Seriously, Season Six is all about the snark. Would've been nice to watch that tension build to some sort of release, eh? But, yeah, nope! Because that's it for Season 6 for these two.

"Thank you for your company, gentlemen."

His first scene with Julian of Season 7, and it's a group get-together where he starts to tap into his claustrophobia. Of the three men across from him, only one has seen that in action before.

"He checks out fine." "Well, I don't feel fine."

There's an intersting turn. Garak used to put up a front, but this time he isn't. But Julian won't be the one to help him. To endear one of my least-favorite characters to the audience, we pair her with one of the most beloved.

And, nothing against the actress. I've seen her in other things and loved her. But young Rachel abhored the character, and grown Rachel's opinion has not wavered.

Oh my gosh. Season 7 Episode 16. Finally a complete scene between these two! It's been since the beginning of Season 6! And they are so in sync they tap the table at the same time, order their drinks simultaneously, and sit down while chatting with some animation we haven't seen in some time.

Bitchy, old couple Garashir has given way to an old, familiar rhythm. And I think part of that is because Julian is back to pursuing what is expected of him—a Dax. But that's a subject for someone else's Meta.

"The eternal optimist." "Guilty as charged." "How sad."

Alright, there's a little bitchiness still in there.

"But, I live in hope that one day you'll come to see this universe for what it truly is rather than what you'd wish it to be." "Well, I shall endavor to become more cynical with each passing day—look gift horses squarely in the mouth, and find clouds in every silver lining." "If only you meant it."

Anyone else feel a little lighter? I feel a little lighter. Because this? This is fucking gorgeous! I ache that it's been since the first episodes of Season 6 since we've seen these two interacting and sparking and reminding us why we love them together. Such different people who challenge one another, excite one another, and make each other smile like no one else can.

But, yeah, sure. Let's give Julian to the bloody Dax. Look, Little Rachel didn't clock Garashir and I was still anti Ezri/Julian. No hatred to those who loved them! But I never understood it.

And thank goodness someone somewhere realized who Garak had to share his last scene with—Julian. It wouldn't have been right if it had been anyone else, despite their distinct lack of screentime together in Seasons 6 and 7.

"Well, aren't you going to congratulate me, Doctor? My exile is now officially over. I've returned home... or rather, to what's left of it." ... "You and I both know the Cardassians are a strong people. They will survive. Cardassia will survive." "Oh, please, Doctor, spare me your insufferable Federation optimism. Of course it'll survive... but not as the Cardassia I knew."

Garak is right. And if he wasn't so (rightfully) upset, he would see that Julian's heart isn't in what he's saying. He just doesn't know what to say.

"We had a rich and ancient culture. Our literature, music, art was second to none. And now... so much of it is... lost. So many of our best people, our most gifted minds."

Robinson is pulling us apart, here. The anguish is palpable, and Siddig is feeding off of it. We can see Julian's plastered on optimism peeling away as the tears fill his eyes. He knows his words hold no meaning, here. So, he finally reaches out.

It's the shoulder touch. It's their thing. But Garak's not in the right place to receive it.

"You've been such a good friend. I'm going to miss our lunches together." "I'm sure we'll see each other, again." "I'd like to think so. But one can never say. We live in uncertain times."

Garak places his hand on Julian's shoulder, now. Their thing. But while Julian's was offered as comfort, Garak's is a goodbye. Garak lets his hand slide off Julian's shoulder, and the human can do nothing but stand there.

In the end, Garak was always going to choose Cardassia. In my mind, the only way he and Julian end up is if the Doctor follows him there. But, Bashir just began a relationship with Ezri, a comfortable relationship in an uncomfortable time.

Love comes in many forms, and sometimes when you find it, you don't even know it's found. That's Garashir. That's the story of missed opportunities and all the things that held them back from finally crossing that final line to becoming the lovers they might have been.

I've heard the rumors, of course, for why that was so. But, since I don't know what's true, I won't repeat them here. Instead, I'll lament what wasn't, and be grateful for a relationship that was so beloved and enduring that Robinson and Siddig themselves championed it, fed it, fostered it, developed it, and supported it so long that it found itself canon in another Star Trek show.

I like to imagine that someday Julian followed Garak to Cardassia, that they realized what they had and couldn't do without. Imagine them both separated so long that their missed lunches grow from an ache to an agony—that the walls of expectation and convention break down enough that they find themselves in one another's arms.

Sometimes we aren't ready for something in life—a career, a move, a great love. And at the end of Star Trek: Deep Space 9, these two aren't in the right place to start something. There are too many other factors at play.

But love at last is often sweeter than the right love at the wrong time. Maybe that's where Garak found Julian—the moment they were both finally ready.

Thanks for reading, loves. I know it's long and likely riddled with typos. But, it's late and I have a Strike Book to resume. This little obsessive ride was a blast, but with my OCD once it's written, it's done. I feel released, and I'm thankful.

And, remember, you are beautiful inside and out. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.