Winter Sport 
By Fenris 
G/B, NC-17 

The mush factor on this one's higher than my usual, but, 
well---shit, folks, I just *can't* write an angsty holiday story. 
I'll torture them later and balance it out. 

Disclaimers- 

These characters belong to Paramount, unfortunately. I am 
merely taking them for some exercise, and returning them 
rumpled but much less tense. Not one cent is being made 
off  of this, now or ever. Adult content. Not responsible for 
personal property.  No running in pool area. Not for internal 
use. Protected by Lo-Jack. Our delicious coffee is served 
extremely hot. Moose Crossing. Bridge freezes before road. 

================================= 

Once again, Garak had to wonder exactly when his last 
shred of common sense had completely deserted him. That 
it had was the only explanation he could give himself for 
having agreed to accompany Dr. Bashir on this idiotic 
endeavor. 

< I should know better by now. Really, all it should take is 
hearing Julian say "holosuite," and I ought to be through the 
door before he's finished the sentence. > 

He looked at the eager smile that lit Bashir's young, mobile 
features as he drew Garak through the usual early evening 
crowd at Quark's, and sighed inwardly. Garak recognized a 
no-win situation when he saw it. He resigned himself to the 
inevitable, and continued to let the human tow him along by 
one elbow. 

Seemingly oblivious to his companion's distinct lack of 
enthusiasm, Bashir led the resigned Cardassian toward one 
of the holosuite doors, talking animatedly the entire time.

"Commander Sisko has this holosuite reserved for the next 
week, to give people who want to participate a chance to 
practice. I really think you're going to enjoy this, Garak."

The holosuite door opened, and they stepped into an eerily 
white, brightly moonlit landscape. Garak exhaled and 
watched his breath congeal into mist in the cold, still air with 
a touch of horror. 

"Oh, I don't think so, doctor." He took a step backward. "You 
go ahead and let me know how it was. I'm sure you'll have a 
lovely time."

Delighted, Bashir took in the pristine snowy landscape, the 
dark shadows of clustered evergreens dotting the gentle 
hillsides and the shining flat surface of the frozen lake 
before them. At Garak's words, he cut the survey short and 
turned to face the Cardassian, frowning.

"Garak, you promised me that you'd do this."

"I was obviously not in full possession of all the facts at that 
time, doctor. Surely you aren't going to hold me to our 
agreement in these circumstances? Or is it just that you'll 
enjoy watching me slowly freeze to death?"

"Garak, stop trying to pick a fight. I'm not letting you out of 
this that easily." Garak immediately assumed a surprised, 
slightly hurt expression. Bashir gamely ignored it and 
continued. 

"No, Elim, of course I don't want you to freeze. But you *did* 
promise me you would try."

Garak sighed, mentally threw in the towel and cinched his 
tunic's high neck up even higher, completely covering his 
neck ridges. Julian slipped an arm around the powerful waist 
and gave the older man an affectionate squeeze and a 
brilliant smile.

"I knew you wouldn't go back on it. Come on, Garak. I 
promise you, you won't even feel the cold after you've had a 
chance to get out on the ice and warm up a bit." 

Garak threw him a dark look and began trudging down the 
hill, heading for a long wooden bench situated a few feet 
from the frozen lake's edge. Halfway down the slope, he 
stopped and looked back over his shoulder at the following 
human, grumbling,

"Remind me again, whose idea this idiotic theme party 
was?"

Julian slipped on an icy spot and slid into the older man, 
catching himself on Garak's shoulder. As he did, the 
Cardassian reached out to steady him. "Whoa--thanks. It 
was Commander Sisko's idea, as you very well remember. 
He thought it would be fun to have some sort of event in 
honor of the season, because it's winter on both Earth and 
Bajor right now." 

"And because of a meaningless coincidence, Sisko decides 
he simply *must* subject all of us to another one of his silly 
historical reenactments."

"The baseball game wasn't a reenactment, Garak, it was a 
real competition. And winter is a significant time on both 
Earth and Bajor. A lot of holidays are observed on both 
worlds, during winter or on the longest night of the year. 
Commander Sisko wants to recreate an Old Earth style 
winter social. Evidently a skating party was something that 
was done at those a lot, at one time." Bashir paused, then 
shrugged and continued, talking faster as he warmed up to 
his subject. "I think it's a marvelous idea. Sort of an early 
Christmas or Solstice party for the people from Earth, and it 
gives the Bajorans and the other people here a little taste of 
older Earth culture. And people can dress up in costumes of 
the period, if they like."

"Winter social. Hmph." Garak growled, sounding eerily like 
Odo for a moment. "I still don't see why Humans and 
Bajorans have so many religious holidays held during the 
worst part of the worst season of the year."

Julian shrugged and smiled fondly at the irritated Cardassian 
as they seated themselves on the narrow bench.

"I don't think most of them are held in honor of winter itself, 
Garak. I don't know about Bajor, but Christmas and 
Hanukah are religious, and I think the Solstice had more to 
do with honoring the idea of...I don't know, renewal, I 
suppose. That people could not only survive the winter, but 
still have the spirit to look forward to spring and celebrate." 
Garak shot him a dubious look. "Personally, I think it makes 
absolutely no sense to celebrate a tradition of wasting 
valuable resources during a time of hardship." 

Having delivered his final word on the subject, the 
Cardassian began putting on the strange footgear Julian 
handed to him. < This entire arrangement is just so typical of 
Sisko >, he thought. Obsessed with nostalgia for ancient 
Earth history, the man seemed to assume that all of DS9's's 
inhabitants naturally shared his fascination for it. He should 
have known that the baseball game was only the beginning.

Bashir had wanted him to participate in that, too, joining him 
on Sisko's team, but Garak had managed to wriggle out of 
that nightmare--barely. It hadn't been easy. It wasn't as if he 
could reasonably present Julian with some ancient 
baseball-related trauma from his dark past as the reason 
he couldn't play on their team. No, in the end Garak had 
been forced to resort to outright refusal, an embarrassingly 
blunt and unimaginative tactic. The doctor had relented then, 
but only after extracting a solemn promise from Garak that 
he would participate in the next holosuite event with Julian, 
whatever it might be.

He finished lacing up the odd, bladed boots and looked up 
expectantly at his companion. Julian, already finished, was 
standing by the lake's edge watching him. Spreading his 
hands out, Garak said,

"Now what?"

Bashir smiled at him. 

"Now, just watch." 

Julian pushed off and skated toward the center of the lake. 
Garak watched, fascinated, as the slim figure flew across 
the ice, gathering speed. Then he gaped in open 
astonishment as Julian leaped into the air, spun completely 
around and landed neatly, his arms and one leg 
outstretched, swooping seamlessly into a smooth turn. It 
was one of the most graceful things Garak had ever seen. 
He looked at his young lover with new appreciation as the 
human skated back toward him. 

Julian pulled up sharply a few feet away from Garak and 
grinned at him. The Cardassian was sitting very still, looking 
at the doctor as if he'd sprouted a third arm. After a few 
moments, Garak snapped out of it and fixed him with a 
disbelieving look.

"You cannot be serious. You expect me to do *that*?" 

Julian laughed. "No, no, no, of course not, Garak! I just 
wanted to see if I could still do it, that's all. It's been a long 
time since I practiced." 

Garak nodded, relieved. "That was really quite beautiful, 
Julian. I've never seen anything like it." 

Obviously pleased at the compliment, Bashir ducked his 
head and waved his hand modestly. 

"Oh, no, you should see someone who's really good at it. I 
never got beyond being able to do a single loop, not reliably. 
There are people who can do three or four--now *that* is 
something to see. I was interested in playing hockey for a 
year or so when I was younger, and one of my instructors 
taught me a few figure skating moves." He reached out and 
grasped the tailor's elbow. "All right, my Cardassian friend, 
time to do, not watch." With that, he towed his unsteady 
victim onto the ice.

------------------ 

"Garak, now just watch me and do what I do. Remember 
where your center of balance is...watch me...no, don't bend 
your--whoops!" Julian grabbed Garak's arm as the 
Cardassian's feet slid treacherously from under him and 
managed to ease the larger man's fall to the ice. From his 
prone position, Garak looked up at Julian and said, 

"I have an idea. Let's pretend that I've already mastered 
skating and override Sisko's ice planet with a lovely, 
decadent Risa program for the next two hours." 

It was a tempting idea. For a moment Julian considered it 
seriously. He and Garak had only recently become lovers, 
and working off six years worth of frustrated desire was still 
a full time job for both of them. But, he *really* wanted 
Garak to skate with him at the party... 

"Sorry, not until we get you moving on the ice." 

He reached a hand down and carefully helped the 
Cardassian back to his feet, then pulled himself tight against 
the sturdy body and placed his lips against one of the 
silver-gray ears.

"Elim," Julian breathed against the double-ridged scales, "I 
promise I will make this up to you later. It'll be worth it, don't 
worry." 

Outwardly, Garak looked doubtful, but inwardly a warm glow 
of anticipation sparked in his belly. The younger human 
chuckled as he saw the pupils dilate in the vivid blue eyes as 
the mobile gray features arranged themselves into a mask 
of skepticism. 

"I don't know, doctor. I'm afraid this is going to require some 
extensive making up." 

Julian laughed. "I'll do my best. Come on, back to work." 

------------ 

During the next quarter hour, Garak became much more 
intimately acquainted with ice than he had ever dreamed 
he'd be. Fortunately for Julian, by his eighth fall the 
Cardassian had begun to see it as a personal challenge. 
Grimly following Julian's example, Garak lurched uncertainly 
along in the human's wake, trying very hard not to think 
about what a ridiculous picture he made. It didn't help that 
lurking at the back of his mind was the certain knowledge 
that Tain, were he alive and watching, would be laughing 
himself sick. 

Their lesson progressed, and Garak fell less and less often. 
He did not have Julian's enhanced reflexes, but he was 
naturally agile and quick to learn, both traits honed to 
preternaturally high levels during his years in the Order. 
That, coupled with his innate Cardassian ability to observe 
and remember, allowed him to quickly absorb Bashir's 
teachings. After the first hour, he was skating a straight line 
almost as swiftly as Julian, and was making excellent 
progress with turns. For a while the only sounds were the 
scrape of their blades against the ice, echoing faintly over 
the hushed landscape.

Garak was beginning to see the charm of this sport. He flew 
over the ice, feeling like a bird skimming over the water. He 
had to admit, now that he was getting the hang of it, that the 
sensation was exhilarating. 

Skating a wide, careful circle as he reached one end of the 
ice, he started back toward the center of the ice. Garak 
concentrated on building up speed. When he'd attained a 
suitable momentum, an idea struck him. Stretching his arms 
out for balance, Garak closed his eyes and simply glided. 
As he'd thought, it made the illusion of free flight even 
stronger. The Cardassian grinned to himself, enjoying every 
sensation, even the cold air rushing by his face, blowing his 
jet black hair into wild disorder.

------ 

Julian drifted along, absorbed in thinking about how 
interesting he intended to make the rest of their evening. 
< Hmm. I'm going to have to do something extra nice 
tonight, to reward him for freezing his scales off and going 
along with this just to please me. Well, he always likes 
playing Replimat, that sounds fun for tonight. Let's see, what 
type of condiments? Mmmm---something sticky and 
warm---and sweet, no repeat of that yamok sauce thing, 
ugh, what a disaster---oh of course, honey! First I'll take, oh, 
an hour or so to lick it off his --- > 

His train of thought was rudely derailed as almost half again 
his own weight's worth of very solid Cardassian plowed into 
him, knocking him clean off his feet. Bashir came down on 
his back, hard, knocking the wind out of himself. An instant 
later Garak hit the ice a few feet away.

Julian rolled onto his back, blinking, the bright moonlight a 
silver dazzle in his eyes. Something dark moved into his 
vision, cutting off the light. He gazed stupidly up at the 
familiar ridged silhouette.

"Doctor! Julian, are you all right? I'm so sorry, I didn't realize 
you were there, I didn't hear you." 

Wind partially knocked out of him, Julian gasped for breath a 
few times before wheezing, 

"Didn't *hear* me! Garak, wasn't *seeing* me good 
enough?" 

The Cardassian hesitated for a moment, then quickly said, 
"Ah. Well, I must apologize for that. Some ice flew in my 
eyes and I was momentarily blinded. I'm surprised you didn't 
see me yourself, doctor." 

Bashir groaned and struggled up onto one elbow. 

"I was thinking about something else, if you must--never 
mind. I'm all right, just got the wind knocked out of me. Give 
me a minute, I'll be fine." He paused, then groaned. "Oh, 
God. Trust me to collide with the only other skater on a 
square mile of ice." 

"Oh, don't be too hard on yourself, doctor. Sometimes the 
mind just wanders, it's natural." 

Julian nodded, sat up and flexed his shoulders, testing the 
muscles. They felt bruised, but not strained. He really didn't 
feel like doing any more skating tonight. But they still had 
time left in the suite. He regarded Garak, who was sitting 
cross-legged a few feet away, waiting patiently. Julian 
grinned and hitched himself a little closer.

Garak's eyes half-closed, and he purred softly. Evidently 
Doctor Bashir was pronouncing their skating lesson over.

Purring right back, Julian snaked an arm under Garak's 
heavy tunic, then pulled himself up against the broad chest, 
urging his lover to lie back down. Unfortunately, as he did 
slipped his arm into Garak's tunic, it rode up high enough to 
expose a bit of his lower back.

The Cardassian yelled in shock as his bare skin touched the 
ice, and did his best to levitate. It didn't work that well, but he 
did manage to sit back up, bringing his startled partner along 
with him. Julian realized what he'd done, and an automatic 
apology sprang to his lips. Before it escaped, though, it was 
cut off by a more devilish impulse. Instead of apologizing, he 
reached around the tailor's back, grabbed a double handful 
of thick cloth and yanked the heavy tunic halfway up to the 
scaled shoulders. For once caught completely unawares, 
Garak froze for the precious few seconds it took Julian to 
throw himself against Garak's chest, thumping him back 
down on the ice. 

This time Garak's yell was much louder and several notes 
higher. He heaved Julian off and struggled up into a sitting 
position, frantically pulling his tunic back down over his 
chilled skin. Eyes narrowed, he gave Bashir the same look 
that had made grown Bajorans (and a few grown 
Cardassians) cry. 

Oblivious, the unrepentant human rolled on his back a few 
feet away, laughing hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. 
The blue eyes narrowed a little more. Reaching out, Garak 
swept one hand over the ice, gathering up a generous 
handful of chips and shavings left behind by the repeated 
scoring of their blades. Then he calmly reached out and 
hooked the fingers of his other hand into Julian's high- 
necked collar. He pulled the stretchy material out and 
dropped the handful of ice shavings into Bashir's  shirt.

Julian squirmed, yelping "Oh! You bastard!" as the melting 
ice slid down his stomach and sides. Then he growled his 
best Klingon imitation and launched himself at the beaming 
Cardassian. 

They wrestled playfully, rolling each other over in turns. 
Garak's superior strength was (at least in a mock combat) 
adequately balanced by Bashir's wiry agility. Neither seemed 
to get the upper hand for long. Julian was careful to keep an 
eye on the older man as they struggled. He loved it when 
he got Garak to play rough and tumble like this, but he also 
knew that it didn't take much to turn playful combat into 
genuine aggression on the tailor's part. As long as he was 
careful, though, not to pin Garak for more than a few 
seconds, or accidentally strike his face, the Cardassian 
could keep his instincts under control.

Finally they ran out of steam and lay side by side, panting. 
Julian pulled himself up to rest comfortably on the heavier 
Cardassian's chest. Garak tugged at his tunic to reassure 
himself that he was still safely insulated from the ice, then 
shuddered. 

"*Now* I am freezing. What was that all about?" 

Julian shrugged, not entirely sure himself. "I thought it might 
warm us up. It didn't work?"

"No. It didn't work." 

Frowning, Julian rested his chin on the broad chest. After a 
moment, he sighed. "Well. I was hoping it wouldn't have to 
get this drastic, but I'm going to have to go to Plan Two, 
then." 

"Really? It wouldn't be this plan, would it?" Garak took him 
by the arms and hauled him up for a kiss. Drawing back an 
inch, Julian whispered, "That's it," and kissed him back. 

After that they were quiet for a while, absorbed in simply 
kissing and feeling each other's bodies through their 
insulated clothing. Julian let his long fingers travel up along 
the darkening neck ridges. He ran his fingertips over the 
ornate pewter and silver scales outlining the gray face. 
The fingers proceeded along the notch between the long, 
elegant line of scales leading from jaw to ear, and up into 
the gleaming black hair. As he stroked Garak's face, a deft 
pair of hands caressed his back and sides, then moved up 
to tangle in the dark curls, holding Julian's head steady as 
the older man's tongue dueled with his. 

Garak ran his hands over Julian's chest, searching for and 
finding the hard nipples under the uniform. He ran his 
fingernails repeatedly over them until Julian moaned into his 
mouth and began squirming against him. The younger man 
began moving more purposefully against Garak's body, 
grinding his erection against the echoing hardness between 
the Cardassian's legs. 

Julian trailed his hands along the supple neck ridges, 
concentrating on their sleek, springy texture, like snakeskin 
over roped muscle. He loved the feel of Garak's skin. 
Stroking the smooth, glossy scales was not only powerfully 
arousing, but also held for him something akin to the charm 
of stroking the hide of an exotic wild creature. 

Stopping for a moment, he lifted himself up and looked 
down into the older man's face, wanting to commit the 
picture to memory. Above the high cheekbones, the moon 
struck brilliant sparks in those marvelous eyes, washed to a 
pale hoarfrost blue by the silvery light. Garak gazed back at 
him quietly, being oddly passive. 

It was time to move things along, Julian realized. He raised 
himself up and scooted back a bit, seating himself on the 
corded thighs. Reaching forward, he thumbed open the 
concealed fasteners of Garak's tunic. He grinned and slid 
his hands inside the garment, running them up from sternum 
to throat and spreading the fabric to reveal the ornamented 
torso, with its smooth skin and mosaic of scales.

The tailor murmured a faint protest as the cold air 
immediately began leaching warmth from his exposed skin. 
The protest became a moan as slender bronze hands 
reached down to massage the hard bulge at his crotch. 
Garak ground his teeth together as the skillful fingers 
stroked his rigid member through the heavy cloth, fighting 
the urge to simply grab the other man, throw him down and 
jump on top of him. 

"Julian, please. You could proceed at *any* time 
now---ahh---really, you could. I wouldn't mind in the least."

"You wouldn't?" The fingers continued stroking in the same 
lazy, teasing rhythm. Garak bore it as long as he could, then 
raised his head and growled, "Doctor. I *really* wouldn't 
mind." 

Fortunately, Julian recognized that it was the last warning 
Garak intended to give. He flashed a wicked smile at the 
Cardassian, then the quick hands were busy unfastening the 
tailor's pants.

Garak closed his eyes and uttered a soft cry as the slim 
fingers wrapped around him and squeezed gently, sending a 
shock of pleasure up his spine. He raised himself up and 
grasped the top of Julian's trousers, tearing the waistband a 
bit as he hastily opened them. Far from protesting, Julian 
reached down and helped, ripping the cloth a little more in 
the process, moaning with relief as his own erection sprang 
free. Hastily, Julian unzipped the front of his own uniform 
jacket and  inner shirt, then lowered himself back down on 
the gray body. 

Garak sighed as the warm human body settled back down. 
Cloth rustled as it was shifted aside, and Garak slid his 
hands inside the open jacket and trailed his fingernails lightly 
over the flawlessly smooth back. Panting, Julian nuzzled into 
one of the soft hollows where the darker scales of Garak's 
neck ridge paled and merged into the dove-gray skin of his 
throat. He licked and nipped gently at the delicate skin, 
running his hands along the heavily scaled outer ridges, 
squeezing, giving an occasional pinch. Garak jerked and 
gasped as the slim, strong fingers closed on one particular 
spot, and his breath coming fast and harsh. 

Julian cried out as Garak pulled him up and leaned in run his 
tongue over the chest. The tailor licked, then bit gently, the 
dark brown nipples which were already crinkled and hard 
from the cold. The delicious sensations produced by the 
contrast of the cold air and the warmth of his lover's tongue 
sent bright sparks of pleasure travelling straight down to 
Julian's groin. 

Painfully hard, Julian slid a hand between them and rubbed 
the sensitive abdominal ridges firmly, drawing a gasp and 
quick thrust of the hips from the Cardassian. Pupils dilated 
wide with arousal, Garak's eyes were as dark as Julian's 
own. The tailor moved his hands across the slim back and 
over the hard-muscled buttocks, pressing Julian's groin tight 
against his own. They moved frantically against each other, 
completely caught up in the mounting pleasure. Their 
erections, slick with pre-ejaculate, ground against each 
other, rubbing and sliding and generating a warm friction 
that drew them quickly toward release. And then it was just 
heat and motion and pleasure; the hot slide of skin against 
skin, warm golden silk gliding over the finest silvered kidskin 
leather. The current of heat and pleasure became a torrent, 
taking them up and over. 

Julian convulsed, and felt his rigid member spasm against 
Garak's, spurting hot, slick fluid over their bellies. 
Overwhelmed, Julian sank his teeth into a firm neck ridge, 
and felt a burning sensation in his shoulders as the tailor's 
hands squeezed so tightly his nails bit through the bronze 
skin. Garak uttered a sharp, almost despairing cry that 
echoed in the still, cold air, and followed his beloved doctor, 
thrusting helplessly against the slim body in the grip of his 
powerful release. Julian tightened his arms and clung 
fiercely to him, face buried in the hollow of Garak's neck, 
riding the aftershocks until their bodies finally stilled and 
were quiet. 

---------- 

"Julian?" 

Mmmm." Julian purred, acknowledging that he'd heard, then 
promptly went back to dozing. After a few seconds, Garak 
patiently tapped him on the back and tried again. 

"Julian. I know you've heard it several times already, but this 
time I mean it. I am freezing. Get off me, please." The 
tousled head lifted and luminescent dark eyes regarded the 
tailor, blinking sleepily. 

"All right, Garak. I---oh God, that means I have to move, 
doesn't it?" 

"Unless you want to spend the rest of your evening reviving 
a hypothermic Cardassian, the answer is yes, I'm afraid."

Julian felt the sturdy body under his beginning to shiver in 
earnest, and immediately sat up. He smiled and leaned 
forward to steal a quick kiss before standing and helping 
Garak to his feet. As he pressed his lips to the tailor's, a 
high, clear voice rang in the chilly air.

"Uncle Julian!" 

"What? Oh, damn!" Bashir looked up and saw a familiar little 
figure running clumsily down the snowy hillside, long black 
hair flying wild behind her. He started desperately trying to 
zip up his uniform. Garak hissed in annoyance.

"Molly, come back here!" 

The startled couple looked up and saw Miles O'Brien 
catching up to his runaway daughter as she bounded down 
the hill, eager to greet her Uncle Julian. O'Brien overtook his 
daughter and snatched her up. Ignoring her indignant 
squawk, he carried her back up the hill to where her mother 
was waiting. Keiko neatly snatched her daughter's little hand 
and led her away, Molly protesting loudly every step of the 
way. The station's Chief of Engineering turned his attention 
back to the two men who were sitting on the ice, furiously 
refastening their clothing. 

Once they were both presentable, Julian scrambled to his 
feet and reached a hand down to help Garak up. O'Brien 
stood, arms folded, at the lake edge and glowered at the 
couple as they skated up to him. 

Figuring that in this case a quick offense was indeed the 
best defense, Julian snapped angrily at Miles, hoping to cut 
him off before he got rolling. "Miles! You aren't supposed to 
be here until nineteen hundred---oh." The doctor trailed off 
as Garak tapped his shoulder and held a timepiece up in 
front of his face. "Ah." Julian was silent for a moment, then 
mumbled, "Sorry, Miles." 

O'Brien snorted. "You two are twenty minutes past the time 
you were signed up for, gentlemen. Keiko and I got tired of 
waiting for you to come out." Julian flushed with 
embarrassment, and was at a momentary loss for words. 

Garak observed this and stepped in before his flustered 
companion could dig himself an even deeper hole. 

"Chief O'Brien, I do apologize, it was my fault entirely. We 
will, of course, cut our next reserved period short by a half 
hour, so you and your charming family can have the time. 
It's just that we were making such good progress with my 
lessons, I'm afraid the time entirely slipped away from us. 
You see---" 

O'Brien (who had absolutely no use for Garak and fervently 
wished the Cardassians had left almost anyone else 
behind), cut Garak off with a disgusted wave of his hand. 

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Garak, stop, you're more painful to 
listen to than a Klingon soprano." He shook his head. "What 
*is* it with you two? You've both got perfectly good quarters. 
Where am I going to see you next, on top of your bloody 
table at the Replimat?" O'Brien's eyes widened as he saw 
Julian blush and flick a swift, guilty look at Garak. 

O'Brien rolled his eyes and knelt down to lace up his skates, 
grumbling. "You two are as bad as a couple of teenagers. 
Wait, what am I saying? You'd *embarrass* a couple of 
teenagers." He shook his head. "Lord, what a picture to take 
with me to the grave. Remind me never to eat at that table 
again." 

******************************* 

The snowy hills and glassy lake were beautiful under the full 
moon. Lanterns strung around the shore lent warmth to the 
cool moonlight, and illuminated the evergreen-wrapped 
railings surrounding the large new pavilion on the lake shore. 
In the center of the pavilion was a raised platform where a 
string quartet was playing. 

It was charming, and lovely, and every bit the success Sisko 
had predicted. Some people dressed as they always did, 
others took the opportunity to replicate some nineteenth- 
century Earth apparel and play dress-up. Sisko was 
resplendent in a long-tailed Victorian gentleman's coat and 
top hat. Sweet-faced Ezri skated easily along at his side, 
looking heartbreakingly young and fragile. As they moved 
by, Julian returned her wave and smile, and briefly 
wondered which one of the Dax hosts had learned to skate. 

Kira and Odo moved with the assured dignity of a couple 
many years married, projecting an air of quiet contentment. 
Just ahead of them, Rom was struggling manfully to match 
pace with the tall, athletic Leeta.

Compared to the speed of their practice sessions, the pace 
was laughably sedate. As they took a lazy turn, arms 
comfortably linked, Garak said, "So, doctor. Did we really 
need to spend all those hours freezing in here to practice for 
this? I learned more than enough in one lesson to allow me 
to crawl around the ice at this pace." 

Bashir shrugged and looked a bit embarrassed. "I know. 
Well, to be honest, I was rather hoping you'd like skating 
enough to want to keep doing it. You seemed to enjoy 
it---skating, I mean, not just the intermissions." Garak 
thought for a moment before answering. 

"Well. I suppose you could probably persuade me to endure 
it once in a while, just to make you happy." 

"And in his native tongue, that translates to 'I liked it very 
much, Julian, but I'm just beginning to explore the potential 
of milking the situation to my greatest advantage'," intoned 
Bashir, russet and amber eyes sparkling. Garak scowled, 
but Julian caught the light of approval in the severe blue 
eyes and smiled. 

---------- 

After the ice promenade ended, the skaters joined the other 
partygoers on the pavilion, gratefully accepting warm 
beverages and food. As they sipped glasses of hot spiced 
wine, Bashir and Garak watched Commander Sisko step up 
on the small central platform and motion the string 
ensemble to be quiet. 

"I smell an inspirational speech from the Emissary on the 
wind," whispered Garak in Julian's ear. "Perhaps this might 
be a good time for us to retire." Bashir shushed him firmly, 
subduing the pleasant shiver that ran down his spine as the 
warm breath tickled his ear, and turned to face the central 
stage. He leaned back comfortably against the sturdy body 
and relaxed, resting his full weight against the unprotesting 
Cardassian. Sisko's deep, rich voice echoed in the still 
winter air.

"My dear friends, it's wonderful to see so many of you here 
tonight. We hold this celebration at the height of winter, on 
the longest night of the year, to remind ourselves that, 
although the dark season may be cruel, and some of us will 
not see the light return---it does end. Spring does return, 
new life grows, and the cycle begins again. New faces come 
to stand in the place of ones who are gone."

Sisko continued his speech, pointing out the common 
threads between the customs of Earth and Bajor. As Garak 
yawned audibly behind him for the fourth time, Julian shifted 
restlessly, torn between laughing and ramming an elbow 
back into the Cardassian's ribs.

"Sisko's love for the sound of his own voice has increased 
exponentially over the last year or two, don't you think?" 
Garak murmured in his ear. Julian turned his head and shot 
him a black look, but refused to rise to the bait and get 
sucked into a debate. Instead he leaned back against the 
broad chest and reached down, catching one of the broad 
hands resting on his waist up in one of his own. He brought 
the hand up to his mouth and held it there, pressing his lips 
against the smooth gray skin. 
 
"Elim," he murmured, and dropped another gentle kiss into 
the warm palm. He heard a faint hiss behind him and felt the 
Cardassian shudder lightly against his back. Julian lowered 
the tailor's hand, still grasped in his, and held it tight against 
his chest. Garak was silent after that, and there was a hint of 
smugness in the young human's smile as he listened to the 
rest of the commander's speech.

As Sisko ended, he flashed one of his sudden, brilliant 
smiles, always startling to see on the dark, serious face, and 
said,

"All right, enough pontification. Drink, eat and dance, and 
that *is* an order, my friends." A skirl of genuinely warm 
applause spread through the crowd. The string ensemble 
started up again. People spread out and most began 
dancing. Bashir and Garak made their way to the 
refreshment table and got two glasses of mulled wine, then 
moved off to a less crowded part of the pavilion. 

Julian regarded his lover with dark, troubled eyes. Sisko's 
words repeated themselves in his mind, making him think 
about the war and the uncertainty of the days ahead. So 
much lost during the past year, and so much more that 
would be lost.

Garak studied his lover, puzzled by his suddenly subdued 
demeanor. Julian glanced over to where Sisko was 
standing, and looked even more depressed. Comprehension 
dawned in the Cardassian's deep-set eyes.

Garak touched his glass gently to Julian's, getting the 
human's attention. 

Julian started, then looked at Garak, murmuring "What?" 
Instead of answering, Garak moved to stand directly in front 
of him, the blue moonstone eyes suddenly serious over the 
crystal wineglass' rim. Julian went very still and returned the 
unwavering gaze, his eyes kindling with some fierce 
emotion.

Garak took a sip of wine and leaned in, closing his lips over 
Julian's.

They kissed intensely for a long, drawn-out moment, 
tongues gently exploring each other's mouths, savoring the 
tang of the mulled wine. The kiss finally ended and they 
regarded each other, Julian's eyes suddenly very bright. 
Garak leaned in and whispered against the lush human 
mouth, his breath redolent with warm spice.

"Ah, well. Solstice, Festival, Christmas, whatever you care to 
call it, my dearest. To new life, out of the long darkness." 

End