#and bashir has to take care of all those ambassadors

[a-stitch-in-time-and-space]

monumentous occasion has happened @sigynpenniman , @fromgallifreytogallitep , @watchingds9forbashir , @alexisafanst

my partner said for the first time that she thinks she’s a bit in love with Julian Bashir

[deepspacedukat]

Rationale

This is one of those fics that I’ve been writing in my head that I never thought I would actually write/post. For those who want to know, Lojal was in DS9 S1E17 “The Forsaken.” I have taken liberties (obviously).

The reader’s gender isn’t specified.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Ambassador Lojal (ST:DS9) x Reader

[A/N: I...have nothing useful to put here. Brainworm strong, willpower weak. 👍 ]

Warnings: Fluff, implied interspecies romance, implied Human/Vulcan romance, mutual pining, miscommunication, misunderstanding, hurt/comfort, they both think their feelings are unrequited, they’re both idiots who should have talked sooner, mind meld.

~*~

I nearly turned on my heel at the entrance to Quark’s when I saw who was seated with Doctor Bashir. Several Federation ambassadors were being hosted by our CMO, but one in particular made me wish I could melt through the floor.

Ambassador Lojal. His eyes were fixed on the Doctor, and just when I thought I might be able to slip by him unnoticed, someone called my name. Jadzia was seated at a table with Major Kira further in, waving me over. Keeping my eyes fixed on them, I staunchly ignored Lojal’s presence. Not knowing whether he’d recognized me or even seen me, I straightened my posture and made my way over to my waiting friends.

“We were wondering what was keeping you. Why so tense?” Kira asked as I sat ramrod straight in my chair instead of the more relaxed posture I normally assumed.

“Lieutenant Commander, don’t look now, but there’s a very handsome Vulcan a few tables over who seems interested in you,” Jadzia said looking over my shoulder in her usual flirty way.

“Is he sitting next to Julian?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” She asked taking a sip of her starduster as she gave me a quizzical look. Heaving a sigh, I tried to keep the shame out of my voice.

“I noticed him when I came in.” Kira leaned a little closer.

“You don’t sound too enthused. What’s the matter? I thought you said you had feelings for a Vulcan you worked with a couple of assignments back? Oh, I know it didn’t work out, but just because it didn’t with him that doesn’t mean it won’t with this Vulcan.” The Major was trying to be helpful and encouraging, of course, but she didn’t know our history.

“Kira, that is him. Ambassador Lojal. I worked with him as a liaison for years, caught feelings for him, and one day without so much as a word of warning, he requested a replacement for me,” I explained, and both my friends looked at me with wide eyes. “He never even told me what I’d done wrong, he just...put in for a replacement, had me transferred, and that was the end of it. No offense, but I’m not exactly overjoyed to see him again.”

Jadzia put a comforting hand on my shoulder as Quark delivered the drink they’d ordered for me. I didn’t even pretend to be interested in it.

“Then I should warn you that both he and Julian are coming this way,” she murmured, and I looked at her in alarm. Before I could act on my instinct to beat a hasty retreat, someone cleared their throat behind us.

“Pardon my interruption, but Ambassador Lojal expressed an interest in meeting you all,” the Doctor said before starting introductions. “Ambassador, this is our station’s First Officer, Kira Nerys, our Science Officer, Jadzia Dax, and–”

“Lieutenant Commander, it has been a long time,” Lojal said, and I chanced a glance up at him. My heart leaped in my chest. He was just as handsome as I remembered, and his gaze was just as arresting.

“Yes it has, sir.”

“Would you do me the honor of conducting my tour of the station in the Doctor’s stead?” His request was highly unorthodox since Julian was the officer assigned to care for the four diplomats. Not to mention being near him for an extended period after he hadn’t even bothered to tell me why I was being summarily dismissed made me extremely uncomfortable.

“As you wish, sir.” I tried to keep my voice as steady and emotionless as possible as I stood and led him out of Quark’s. “May I ask what you’ve been shown so far? I don’t want to waste your time with things you’ve already seen.”

“The docking bay and that Ferengi’s bar,” Lojal replied, and I made a mental note of all the major areas on the station that he might want to see. “I have heard many promising things about your science lab. Perhaps you could start there?”

“Of course, sir.” Walking with him to the nearest turbolift, I called out the correct level to get it moving. Facing stalwartly forward with my hands clasped in front of me in the typical Vulcan fashion - a habit I’d picked up from Lojal when I worked with him - the two of us rode in relative silence.

“My office is not the same without your presence. Your absence has been...deeply felt.” I’d turned to look at him before I’d even realized I’d moved. Lojal’s eyes were already fixed on me with that same unwavering sincerity that I’d grown so accustomed to.

A flash of indignance arose in me. How dare he speak as though he missed me when he was the one who sent me away? Until he’d had me transferred, I’d never thought of the Ambassador as a cruel man, but this...this was below the belt even for someone like him. I’d been sent to a patrol ship on the Cardassian border, then transferred to Deep Space Nine when it had been placed under Federation administration. Those were the worst two years of my life. I was a diplomat, not a soldier, but my post on that little patrol ship during the end of Bajor’s war with Cardassia had given me my share of battle experience. Experience that I wished I could forget.

Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I faced forward once more.

“I find that hard to believe, sir.” Trying my hardest to ignore the unsteadiness underlying my words, I clenched my jaw and took a slow, deep breath. I’d be damned if I let the man who’d uprooted my entire life see me cry.

“May I ask why?”

Was he really going to play dumb and act as though he hadn’t been responsible for sending me to the Cardassian border?

“I would recommend against feigned ignorance. It doesn’t suit you. Sir.” Even I could hear the bitterness coloring my tone that time. Lojal wouldn’t have missed that.

“...I appear to have missed some crucial information. Perhaps you would be so good as to enlighten me?”

Fine. If he wanted to do this here, I’d oblige him.

“Computer, halt turbolift.” When an acknowledging chime answered and the lift had come to a stop, I turned to face him. “We worked together for three years. I was under the impression that I’d done a satisfactory job for you. You never once complained or asked me to change the way I worked. Then two years ago, you had me replaced and transferred to a starship on the edge of Federation space without even granting me the courtesy of telling me what I’d done wrong. You sent me away - as far away as was possible. You are the reason I’m no longer in your office. That’s why I find you missing me to be implausible, Lojal.”

By the time I fell silent again, the Vulcan’s lips were parted in unmistakable surprise.

I wanted to say so much more, but I couldn’t seem to get the words out. I didn’t trust myself not to sound as pained by this reopened wound as I felt. I’d spent so long sifting through my actions to try and find some explanation for why he’d had me replaced, some inefficiency or incorrect procedure that might have proved to be irksome to him. We’d just begun to get to know each other on a slightly more personal level - for a long time, I assumed that had been the problem.

“Computer, resume.”

If the Ambassador wanted a tour, I’d give him a tour. The rest of the walk to the lab was utterly devoid of conversation. I’d never known Lojal to be so quiet. He always had some sort of observation or remark on the tip of his tongue, but not this time. This time he acted as though nothing in the universe could induce him to speak.

The maintenance on the sensor arrays rendered the lab empty, so when we went inside, we were entirely on our own. I answered a few small questions as he explored at his leisure, but I got the distinct feeling that he was preoccupied. Finally, he looked up from one of the stations and cleared his throat.

“It is true that I requested a different officer, but...I thought that you had requested the transfer. I was under the impression that you wished to put some distance between us, that our...growing familiarity had finally made you uncomfortable,” the Ambassador said taking a slow step closer to me. “You were sent away so quickly that I didn’t have time to apologize or explain myself.”

“Well, you have all the time in the world, now.” Crossing my arms loosely over my middle, I leaned back against one of the empty countertops. “Was it my various attempts at initiating small talk? Was I too...Human?”

“Neither. I felt that it would be indecent for you to remain under my authority if we were to become involved in a romantic entanglement as seemed to be the inevitable outcome of our social interactions. Therefore, I requested a replacement and submitted my recommendation that you remain at the Embassy as liaison for a colleague. Such a personnel rearrangement would have accommodated both the continuation of your career in diplomacy and a shift in the dynamic of our interpersonal relationship, had you seen fit to accept me, of course,” Lojal explained as he walked closer. “Even if you had rejected me, then the awkwardness of the situation would also have been accommodated since you would no longer be required to be in my presence on a daily basis. I never considered the possibility that you would be transferred to a wholly new location.”

None of that was what I expected. My arms fell to my sides as Lojal halted barely a foot from me.

“It is obvious now that my lack of communication - both of my intentions and my actions - has caused a significant misunderstanding. I offer you my humblest apologies, not only for that poor decision, but for the pain I have so clearly caused you, as well.” Lojal bowed his head as he spoke. I could do no more than gape at him.

“You mean, you–” I broke off as he looked up at me. “I thought...”

After a moment’s silence, Lojal stood a little straighter and took a step closer to me.

“Perhaps it would be advantageous if we...” A slight green blush colored his cheeks as he lifted one of his hands. He paused barely an inch from my skin and met my eyes. “Would you permit me the intimacy of a mind meld? We would be able to communicate our thoughts with complete clarity.”

I nodded my head with no hesitation. His fingertips touched me with the utmost delicacy, the tenderness of the gesture affecting me so much that I was forced to take a steadying breath.

“Breathe, ashayam,” Lojal murmured in the gentlest tone I’d ever heard from him. “My mind to your mind...your thoughts to my thoughts...”

[thepandamightwrite]

Chapter 1: The Poisoning

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Alcohol mention, poison, indirect death mention, attempted murder

Age group: Young adult

Whole Story Blurb: When Amira Bashir almost dies from hydrogen peroxide poisoning, PI Anjali Dayal must figure out who wants the president dead. Only 6 people could've spiked the glass, and with all of them having strong motives and shaky alibis, the case proves quite difficult to crack.

Notes: I’m so excited to share part one of my WIP with you guys! This idea has been nagging at me for a little while and I finally got around to writing it. Constructive criticism is always appreciated! Hope you enjoy it!

~†~

The elaborate diamond chandelier tosses tiny rainbows around the ballroom packed with drunk ambassadors. Isabella Garcia wishes she could stop working for a little bit and admire the splendor, maybe take a few pictures as well. But alas, she's still on duty and Luke will throw a fit if she stops for even a moment. As she makes her way back to the White House kitchens, she can't help but feel the familiar stab of envy at her extravagant surroundings. The people that claimed to be working for common citizens were the ones spending $50,000 on a glass of champagne.

Normally, Isabella would be able to put it out of her mind and do her job properly, but the imbalance irks her more than usual today. She throws open the doors of the kitchen and within a couple seconds, a tray full of drinks is thrust in her arms and she's shuttled back to the cursed ballroom. "Stupid ambassadors. Being treated like kings and queens instead of the entitled scums they are," Isabella grumbles as she trudges down the plush, carpeted hallways. On her way, Isabella glances at the note on her tray that guides her to the drinks' final destination, and she almost drops the glasses in surprise.

40 y/o Macallan Whiskey ---------------------------------- Ambassador William Burton

Dom Perignon --------------------------------------------------- Ambassador Irina Petrov

Orange Juice ------------------------------------------------- First Husband Aariz Bashir

Sparkling Water --------------------------------------------------- President Amira Bashir

Isabella stands in the middle of the deserted hallway, her jaw on the floor, stomach turning, and her sweaty palms struggle to grip the tray that's slowly sliding out of her grasp. Get ahold of yourself Garcia. Don't screw this up. She straightens her tie, runs her fingers through her hair, and pats the vial in her pocket. Considering her clientele, she'd need it later.

~†~

Secret Service Agent Miyoko Mori glances down at her watch, whose hands aren't moving any faster, despite her staring at it incessantly for the last few hours. 2 minutes and 30 seconds left. She drums her restless fingers against the table with the poison testing materials. No one's ever dared to spike anyone's glass, after all, there wasn't exactly a way to get anything dangerous into the White House in the first place. But still, out of a ridiculous abundance of caution, Miyoko had to test every single glass entering the ballroom for traces of toxins. Where is she?

Suddenly, Isabella turns the corner, balancing a tray of drinks and donning an endearing smile. "Agent Mori! I'm baaaack!" she calls in a singsong voice. "It's about time," Miyoko retorts. "I've been waiting for you to show up for the last 5 minutes! It's so dull here and I missed talking to you." "Aww, can't live without me can you," Isabelle teases with a flirty grin. "I mean I could, but it'd be rather boring, especially considering the only other person here is Agent Carter," Miyoko responds, gesturing at the burly man a few feet away. "That does sound rough," agrees Isabella. "But try serving drinks to drunk, pompous officers, and you'll be begging for your boring job in a few minutes." Agent Mori shakes her head disapprovingly as she places the poison testing strips inside each drink.

Then, she notices the label on the tray revealing that one of these drinks will reach the president herself. Well, the universe is certainly kind to me today, she thinks to herself. I'd be a fool not to take the opportunity that's fallen so perfectly into my lap. Once the tests come back negative, she takes the strips out of the glasses, lingering for just a second longer than she needs to in order to get the job done. "You're all good to go," Miyoko says, lying through her teeth.

~†~

Why didn't I wear heels, laments Russian Ambassador Irina Petrov as she waits for her drink. Most people would be glad to don comfortable flats instead of piercing stilettos, but the cursed shoes give her the 2 inches of height she so desperately needs. Especially considering her peers are at least a foot taller than her, Irina could use the heels to make people take her seriously. Sometimes, she wished Ambassador Burton wouldn't be listened to either, after all, he did spout nonsense most of the time. At the moment, he was debating the president and her husband about some stupid topic Irina couldn't bring herself to care about.

In that respect, Amira is commendable to say the least. Even though she's only a couple inches taller than Irina, Amira Bashir has a certain air of power and influence that makes even the most stubborn man pay attention. If only circumstances were different, I could actually learn a thing or two from her.

The British Ambassador, William Burton, starts yapping about drug prices and Aariz Bashir looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. Or maybe he was babbling about the military. Irina had already consumed a few too many drinks. She would look better with pale skin and glassy eyes. She shakes her head vehemently in an attempt to banish the distasteful thoughts from her mind. "Really Ambassador Burton? I would've thought you of all people would be in support of the Bashir Trade Deal. After all, the trade routes it proposes would make it far easier to distribute goods all over Russia," challenges the president. Oh no. Irina stammers an excuse for her absentmindedness, hoping that it could all be blamed on the 4 glasses of champagne she'd consumed earlier in the evening. One glance at Amira told her that wasn't the case and her stomach churned in apprehension.

The president was intimidating on a regular day, but seeing her angry was even worse. Ambassador Petrov could never forget that fateful day when she'd been more terrified of Amira than her, or probably anyone, had been in their lives. If the president could hold a grudge just like she did her secret, Irina was in big trouble. Amira's strategy was to let the information fester until it drove everyone to insanity. Not for much longer. Right on cue, the waitress arrives with the drinks and after William takes his whisky, Irene reaches for her champagne with shaking hands, hesitating longer than necessary.

~†~

Amira eyelids feel like they are 250 pound weights, as though she would fall asleep any minute. Although she's never consumed any alcohol, she still felt rather hungover from all the useless conversation. Back when Amira first ran for president, she hadn't realized how many meaningless balls and galas she'd be subject to. Naively, she'd taken the job thinking she'd be transparent about everything and only do things that would help regular, working class people. Unfortunately, that childish dream had been extinguished after a few months, when the AI war took place. The casualties still weighed heavily on Amira's conscience, but if she could go back and make those difficult decisions again, she probably wouldn't change anything. That truly scared her.

"President Bashir, you have a meeting with the Secretary of State in 15 minutes," chirps Alyssa Miller, her personal assistant. "Very well. If you could get the necessary technology ready, I'll meet you in the Oval Office in 10 minutes." "Absolutely," Alyssa replies as she scurries off, leaving 3 broken vases and multiple squashed toes in her wake. President Bashir shakes her head, but laughs to herself as the waitress brings their drinks.

"Here you are, dear," says Aariz as he hands Amira her sparkling water. The president knows her husband is quiet to begin with, but this was the first sentence he'd spoken for the whole evening. Something was off, and Amira intended to find out, right after this stupid gala was over. As she reaches for her glass, Agent Brown swats her hand out of the way and takes it for himself. "Lucas!" "Sorry ma'am, it's protocol," he responds with an apologetic expression on his face. President Bashir rolls her eyes at the unnecessary precautions, but waits for the glass to be tested for poison. She looks around the room, noticing the nervous, distracted, apprehensive expressions of the people closest to her. Something seems a little off about everyone, but before Amira can think about it too much, Lucas yells the fateful words that sends her life spiralling. "There's poison!"

~†~

[kelasparmak]

garashir for the ask meme? :)

full disclosure i don’t remember which ask meme this was because as has been established i’ve been a Mess, but i’ll assume it’s this one:

Fake dating/marrieds: it is COMPLETELY unnecessary. there is no need for them to pretend to be dating or married at all, but julian suggests it because that’s what happens in Spy Books, and garak goes along with it because a) he’s pining and/or b) this is bound to be hilarious. then they both realise they’ve signed up for more than they intended to, but of course they are fucking stubborn as hell so they just keep making it worse for themselves (and, though they’re probably completely oblivious to this, each other). if this were a fic i was writing, i would end it with them not getting together and just having the bluest balls in the world, because they’re fucking idiots. (but maybe i’d write an epilogue a few weeks later, where jadzia and kira are loudly rolling their eyes about how those dumb fucks who are now dating didn’t realise they were in love with each other despite unnecessarily making out in front of an ambassador to ‘prove’ they were married even though said ambassador had had no reason to doubt it and didn’t give a shit until they started with the pda on the bridge and sisko had to pull them apart because it was just making the situation less believable)

Bodyswap: julian is THRILLED - cardassian doctors are super secretive about medicine and anatomy so this is a great way for him to find out things like how a cardassian body reacts to penicillin! garak is initially worried about being super fragile and squishy in a human body but then realises that actually he is much safer in julian’s body than his body is under the care of Excitable Knowledge-Hungry Pupppy Dr Julian Bashir. the episode is basically everyone trying to stop julian from killing himself and garak by performing medical trials on himself.

Telepathy: again - it’s sad. it’s unavoidably sad. they probably just go get drunk and have sad sex. boohoo.

OH NO only one bed at the hotel: julian probably volunteers to sleep on the floor (and probably puts his foot in his mouth by implying that garak is old and will hurt his back if he doesn’t take the bed) but fortunately garak is used to him being a doofus and convinces him that it is in everyone’s best interest if they share the bed. the room has a thermostat which julian has considerately already turned up, but garak ignores this in order to make the body heat argument. they end up both being too warm and uncomfortable. they’re disasters.

Accidental time-travel: BISEXUAL DISASTER TEEN GARAK. always my fave. alternatively, i kinda like the idea of them meeting as kids - like, before jules’s engineering, before garak finds out tolan’s not his dad and he doesn’t get to be a gardener when he grows up. it’d be super poignant, esp if the time travel incident was fixed within the episode but they both remembered it afterwards and had a tiny little piece of ‘before the world happened to him’ of each other to hold onto.

Their first kiss: awkward, uncomfortably positioned, probably in a near-death scenario that they definitely could’ve avoided. julian says something dumb.

Meeting the parents: well, again, julian has met tain and that was…. something. probably better than most would manage with tain. i like to think that garak subtly made richard bashir’s life difficult, not so much because of the engineering (which i personally, as a Real Life Autistic, think is awful, but garak, as a Fictional Cardassian, might understand the motivation behind) but because of his attitude when he talks to julian. if this child is your legacy and you really just want the best for him and will break the law and do immoral things to give him the best opportunities in life that you can, at least do it in such a way that he appreciates it, you idiot. (or, going off garak’s own experiences: if you’re going to give your son horrible lifelong trauma for your own purposes, you have to at least go through with making sure those purposes work, or it’s just a waste!). garak’s perspective is fucked up but ultimately, even if it’s largely for different reasons, i can see him being just as disgusted w richard bashir as the fandom is.

Moving in together: again - a disaster. they’re both very particular about their living space, but julian at least has a very meticulously planned chaos sort of thing going on. ‘yes, i know all my clean shirts are under the left cushion on the sofa, that’s where they’re supposed to be, it keeps them pressed just right’. ‘yes, i know there’s been a half-eaten scone on my datapad for six hours - i’m saving it for later’. et cetera, et cetera.

A crossover of my choice: fuck. uhhh - all i can fucking think of (and i don’t know why) is jane austen novels. semi-canonically, garak adores them, and i think they fit really well. the only question is which of them fills the plucky and a tiny-bit-obnoxious heroine role, and which fills the awkward and extremely obnoxious hero role. i think maybe neither of them are either one. i think maybe they’re background/side-characters who have their own thematically fitting adventure and love story while the main drama is going on.

An au of my choice: i’m always a sucker for section 31 julian! whether the semi-reluctant, taking-it-down-from-within version that we get in the eu, or an initially-idealistic ‘i’m a spy! wow! so cool! … fuck, my actions have consequences!’ version, or a full on ‘ends justify the means’ version. this could be the only change from canon, or garak could still be with the order, or it could be a situation swap where julian’s an outcast spy and garak has a Big Secret about his childhood but actually never got involved with the order.

If you like, another trope/scenario of your choice: predictably, i’m gonna go with polyamorous domestic bliss on post-canon cardassia. just let my middle-aged disaster son be happy with his idealistic traumatised doctor husbands! …. no but for real, please let this happen, it’s all i want in life.