The BLTS Archive  Infatuation
by Colburs (colbyucb@gmail.com)

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Published: 05-16-07

Updated: 05-16-07

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"Garak, this... infatuation you seem to have with me is beginning to 
get a little distracting." Julian Bashir sighed and scanned the 
length of the Cardassian's prostrate body.

"Infatuation? Doctor, you wound me," Garak said as he sat upright on
the examining table. He was wide-eyed, as if wholly shocked at the
insinuation.

Bashir shook his head, the corners of his mouth betraying a hidden
smile. "Well, despite that, you're perfectly fine," he snapped the
tricorder shut, ceasing at once the shrill blips it emitted. "This is
the second time in as many days that you've come to the infirmary when
nothing's been wrong." He turned around and began to record what
medical data he had acquired from the scan onto a PADD. "I do have
patients who actually require my presence, you know," he said softly.

"My dear doctor," Garak swung his powerful legs over to the other side
of the biobed, "I simply miss the - dare I say? - thought provoking
conversations we share."

Bashir whirled about on his heel, arms akimbo. "Garak! We have lunch
once a week, every week. What's there to miss?"

Garak tilted his head slightly. "Are you aware that there are seven
days in a week?" The words slid off of his reptillian tongue as if
they were oil.

"And are you aware that I couldn't possibly have lunch with you every
day? Regardless of my desire, or lack thereof, to do so, it simply
isn't feasible due to my schedule." Bashir shifted on his feet,
nervously adjusting the collar of his uniform.

"It doesn't have to be lunch," Garak persisted, "I do understand that
you're a very busy man - as am I! However, I merely wish to engage you
in conversation on a more regular basis. Have you any idea how tedious
hemming trousers all day is?"

"Not in the slightest." Bashir circled the biobed, watching as the
other man's eyes tracked even the most minute of his movements. "But I
do know that I'm not the only one on this station with a mouth. If
it's conversation you're after, I'm sure you can find another suitable
partner."

"I can't argue with that sentiment, yet I don't believe there is
anyone else as stimulating as yourself aboard Deep Space 9."

"What about Odo? He's a rather intriguing fellow."

"The constable?" Garak nearly snorted, "Of course he's intriguing,
though he isn't what I would consider a conversationalist. Frankly, he
isn't much of an ideal listener either. At least not to me."

"Why not?" Bashir crossed his arms guardedly over his chest. "Because
he's not impressed by your duplicitous nature?"

"I prefer the term mysterious, doctor," Garak rose off the biobed,
smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit as he did so.

"At any rate, as I mentioned before, I do have other patients to tend
to," Bashir made an attempt to usher Garak out of the room. "And, from
now on, please come to the infirmary only when you're actually in need
of care."

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise." He clasped his moderately
scaled grey hands at his waist.

"I mean it, Garak," Bashir called after him, "Doctor's orders."

Garak stopped at the entryway for a moment, and craned his head
backward, "There's hope for you yet, Julian."

"You always say that." A grin crept onto the young man's face.

"I always said you were perceptive, as well," Garak took a few more
steps toward the Promenade, "If you're going to bar my visits to the
infirmary, you could do at least to patron my shop. As I recall, you
wanted to commission a jacket not long ago. I did draw up the pattern,
I presume you're still interested?"

"Oh?" In truth, Bashir was somewhat taken aback that Garak had
remembered his off-handed comment about the garment at all. It had
been a month ago, at least, because he had only mentioned it due to
the fact that he was getting some alterations done to his new and
rather ill-fitting uniform. "I'll try to come by soon then." He
slicked his hair back absently with one hand.

Garak only nodded slowly in response, then left the infirmary.
Bashir's eyes were on his back for a short while until he was out of
view, having rounded a bend in the Promenade. The doctor shook his
head, as if waking himself from a trance. He rubbed his temples and
got back to work.

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The End