AU based on this post where Mila ends up moving in with Garak on DS9 after Tain decides she’s too much of liability. @the-last-dillards , @agrippaspoleto , @conceptadecency
“Elim, where is your sweater? It’s freezing on this station.”
“I am well aware of the temperature,” Garak said as he adjusted his close-cut jacket so that it fell perfectly over his shoulders.
“Then you must have actually gone insane since last I saw you. Here.” Garak managed to catch the bulky wool sweater before it hit him in the face. “I had that replicated.”
“Replicated?” Garak protested, holding the black synthetic wool garment in one hand. “Mila, I’m a tailor.”
“Then you should have put your skills to use making a warmer outfit.”
“Elim Garak, are you going to stand there and defy your…” The last word stuck to her tongue. Neither of them was used to saying it, even if saying it might have been safe to do while on a Federation-controlled station.
“Aunt,” Garak said. It was the closest he could manage on a family tree without giving away the game entirely. Plus, he’d learned from Dr. Bashir that many alien species referred to older women relatives and family friends as “aunt,” regardless of actual blood ties. “No, I will not stand here and defy my aunt.”
“Good.” Mila nodded her head sharply and exited to the main room. “And put some oil on your scales,” she called back. “You look like you’ve been wandering around in a desert.”
Garak closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“You’re looking remarkably healthy today,” Julian said as they sat down to lunch.
“Meaning?” Garak asked as he set down his tray.
“Well, your scales look a little brighter and you look… well…”
“Warm,” Julian said. “That sweater looks warm.”
“Yes. That’s about the only thing in its favor,” Garak remarked gloomily as he picked at the turtleneck.
Garak stared at Julian and tried to remind himself that the practice of baring neck ridges to show one’s virility was a Cardassian custom that no human would have any reason to pick up on. “It’s warm,” he said.
“It reminds me of the sort of thing I’d wear back in England,” Julian said, perfectly oblivious to Garak’s discomfort. “Although, I don’t think I’d wear it in black. Maybe a sapphire? Red?”
“All excellent choices, I’m sure,” Garak said, “but, if we may veer away from the topic of my wardrobe, what did you think of The Barren Waste?”
Garak let out a little sigh of frustration as Mila appeared behind him. “There you are,” she scolded. “I saw the sign on your door and guessed you’d be…” Her eyes landed on Julian. “Is this Dr. Bashir?”
“Dr. Bashir, my aunt. Aunt Mila, Dr. Bashir,” Garak said hurriedly. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind…”
“He’s more handsome than you said he was,” Mila commented with an approving glance. “I can see now why you were trying to run out in that neck-baring jacket.”
“His what now?” Julian asked, barely containing his laughter.
“That jacket of his! The one that shows off his–”
“Mila! That is quite enough!” Garak interrupted. He stood up from the table and grabbed her by the elbow, hauling her away from the table.
“He’s not Cardassian,” Mila said, seemingly oblivious to Garak’s distress as she was led onto the promenade. “But you could do worse than a doctor.”
“It’s not that…” Garak ground his teeth. “Dr. Bashir and I are –”
“Don’t try to lie to me, Elim,” she said, wrenching her arm free of his grasp. “Giving him all those Cardassian novels. Having lunch with him. I’ve even heard you’ve touched him on the shoulder in public.”
“I didn’t know both of us were intelligence agents,” Garak sniped.
“Yes, well, you’ve always been a little slow,” Mila countered. She raised her chin and clasped her hands in front of her. “I approve of the match,” she said.
“You’d better hurry then before my favor runs out,” Mila commented as she turned her back on him and left.
The wedding was a chaotic affair. Cardassia was just getting back on its feet and, as a potential head of the Cardassian government, it was determined that having a long-term boyfriend was less beneficial than having a husband. At least, that was the official version that Garak tried to feed Julian. Julian had taken it in stride, kissing Garak on the cheek and asking him if marriage was something that Elim wanted or something Garak wanted. The delineation of his personal and professional life was somewhat twisted from when he’d first used the two-names metaphor, but both of them understood when he whispered “Elim.” Foregoing the usual two year engagement, they were married on a warm summer’s day just outside of Lakarian City with a few notable members of the Cardassian government and most of the higher-ups from DS9 present. Julian looked stunning in his ruby-red tuxedo. Garak went with a more traditional Cardassian look that mirrored the military uniform, but, rather than being black with shades of grey, was a sapphire blue with gold detailing. Mila was the first to congratulate them after the ceremony.
“I told you that you could do worse than a doctor,” she said haughtily as Garak paraded his husband back into the reception hall.
“Yes, mother,” Garak said with a polite bow of the head.
“Don’t you ‘yes, mother’ me, you scoundrel,” Mila scolded. “I’ve known you too long.”
“I think, what he means, mother,” Julian said, a twinkle in his hazel eyes, “is ‘thank you.’“
Mila smirked. “I like this one,” she commented. “He knows his manners.”
“How very fortunate, especially as we’ve already signed the marriage papers,” Garak sniped.
Mila ignored him, instead turning to Julian. “You take care of him, young man,” she said. “I know he can be a handful, but, in the end, he’s worth it.”
“I know, mother,” Julian said, casting a loving glance at Garak. “I know.”
