The BLTS Archive - Garak/Worf Scene
by Mary K. (mkk2@csd.uwm.edu)

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DISCLAIMER:  Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and the characters
created within are property of Paramount.  However, the story and
those parts not used by Paramount are COPYRIGHT 1996 by Mary K.

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The upper level of Quark's bar was almost deserted; two solitary
drinkers, each occupying a separate table, were its sole inhabitants.
Garak stared diconsolately into his glass of kanar.  His recent
conversation with Julian Bashir had not gone well.

"We should both start spending a little more time away from each
other," the doctor had urged.  "I don't mean forever, I just mean for
a while, to make sure this relationship we have is meant to work."

Garak had scoffed furiously at that, which only irritated Bashir and
ended the meeting on a sour note.  But then everything about their
relationship was a little sour lately, Garak mused.

Three tables away, Worf was staring into his bloodwine, a hostile
expression on his face.  His recent conversation with Jadzia Dax had
not gone well.  "You're smothering me, Worf," the Trill had
proclaimed.  "I know you're a Klingon, and Klingons are supposed to be
powerful and aggressive, but this is ridiculous.  I had a satisfying,
full life before I met you.  I think we should start spending a little
more time away from each other - I don't mean forever.  I just mean
for a while, to make sure this relationship we have is meant to work."

Worf, remembering, snorted in disgust, then took a long drink and
slammed his glass down onto the table.

"Waiter!  Waiter!  More bloodwine!"

The bellowing startled Garak out of his reverie.  He called over to
Worf, "Don't bother - I saw Quark send all the waiters home for the
night.  If you want more, you'll have to go down to the bar to get
it."

Worf growled impatiently, then rose unsteadily to his feet and
staggered over to Garak's table.  "Want - want - more... kanar?" he
slurred.

"Why thank you - yes!" Garak beamed.  Worf's courtesy in remembering
him was somewhat startling.

Worf had begun to turn away but then collapsed into the chair across
from him.

"I think I'll get the drinks," Garak decided.

Worf placed a hairy hand on his arm.  "Wait."

Garak waited patiently.

"Mr. Garak."

"Yes?"

"Mr. Garak," Worf began again, obviously searching desperately for
words in his intoxicated Klingon brain.  "What do you do when the
person you want - doesn't want - doesn't want - YOU?"

Garak blinked, confused.  "Ah!  You're referring to Dax."

Worf nodded.

"Well, I'll tell you," he began, warming to his subject as Worf stared
blearily at him.  "I HAVE had similar - difficulties.  And I think the
best thing to do is to put the person out of your mind and just work
on being happy without them.  After all, what's the old human saying,
'Living well is the best revenge'?"  He smiled charmingly.  "Now -
shall I see about those drinks?"

Garak slowly began to slide his chair away from the table; Worf's
stare was beginning to make him strangely uncomfortable.  With a
muffled roar,  Worf leaned over and grasped Garak's face in his large,
rough hands.  "Forget the drinks," he rasped, as he brought his lips
close to the Cardassian's and kissed him, then plunged his tongue
deep into Garak's mouth while Garak, struggling for breath, tried to
protest.

"Mmmm," Worf moaned, as Klingon and Cardassian struggled against the
table; Worf had managed to turn Garak so he was leaning back against
the tabletop with no way to brace himself. Worf's sharp, jagged
teeth were scraping his lips and his tongue raw - as he tasted his
own blood, his arousal flared and he reached up and pulled Worf even
more tightly against him.  The taste of bloodwine, kanar, and
Cardassian blood mingled in both their mouths as each wrestled for a
dominant position.

One level below them, at the bar, Quark watched the entire scene with
horrified fascination, his arms folded.  He shook his head
disgustedly, muttering to himself, "I can't for the life of me imagine
how they'll both manage to be on top at the same time."  He went back
to polishing glasses.

Moments later, Garak and Worf, breathless and disheveled, practically
fell down the stairs and lurched over to the bar, where they stood,
panting.

"Holosuite?" Quark asked, a lascivious twinkle in his eye.  Both men
nodded.  "Suite Two is free - how shall I program it?"  Worf and Garak
looked at each other, confused.

"Oh, *I* know!"  Quark beamed.  "Battlefield.  You're his prisoner - I
mean, he's your prisoner - I mean..."

The two men had already raced for the stairs leading to the
holosuites; Worf was clawing Garak's arms so tightly that Quark winced
in pain, while Garak had bitten a rather large slice out of Worf's
neck and was lapping at the trickle of blood.

Quark finished programming the computer and again resumed his
polishing chores, trying to put the image of the activity that was
taking place in Holosuite Two out of his mind.

The door to the bar slid open, and Julian Bashir, rubbing sleep out
of his eyes, approached Quark.  "Hello," he mumbled.  "Have you seen
Garak?  I know he was here this evening - I need to find him.  He's
not in his quarters, and I want to talk to him."

"Ah -" Quark began, but Jadzia Dax had also entered the bar.

"Quark - have you seen Worf?"  Quark stared at her, speechless.  "The
last I saw of him, he was having a drink here," she continued.  "I
need to talk to him - I have to apologize for a little
misunderstanding we had earlier."

Quark swallowed rapidly several times until his naturally quick
tongue could reassert itself.  "Garak and Worf are in Holosuite Two,"
he finally announced.

"Ah!  Engaging in some Klingon exercise program, I presume?" Bashir
smiled, relieved.

"You could say that, yes."  Quark swallowed again.

"Well, Julian," Dax smiled, turning toward him, "I think it would be
fun to look in on them while they exercise - I love to watch Klingons
and Cardassians in physical combat, don't you?"

"Oh, absolutely," Bashir agreed.  "All that struggling, all that
huffing and puffing, all that shouting -  Let's go."  He pulled Dax
toward the stairway, anticipating how surprised and relieved Garak
would be to see him and to be rescued from Worf.  Similar thoughts
were racing through Dax's brain as they approached Holosuite Two.
Judging by the sounds emanating from within, the program the two had
chosen was even more strenuous than usual.  She and Bashir stood side
by side, smiling happily, as the door to the holosuite began to
open...

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The End