A Collection of Julian Bashir One-Shots

Matchmaker Matchmaker, Make Me A Match

Summary: You and Garak, Deep Space Nine's resident cardassian "tailor," find yourselves vying for Julian Bashir's attention. It's only when you speak to Julian about it that you find out one secret that the spy—or rather, tailor—just couldn't keep covered up.

***

"Hm... I see," Garak murmured to himself as he measured my shoulders. He pursed his lips then as he moved his tape measure down to my stomach. A contented smile crossed his features. "I must say, you have a lovely waist. Narrow enough, but not waspishly thin. I don't think I'll have to make any alterations in that region."

"Why, thank you," I said, smiling slightly. I was never good with compliments.

"Yes, it's very lovely," Garak murmured absentmindedly as he moved the measure further downwards. "Your hips might be a bit big. But worry not, that's the fault of the dress, not you."

"Oh—uh, okay," I said softly. Once Garak had gotten the measurements he needed, he straightened up and began to peruse his rack of dresses.

"Now, I believe I have just the thing for you. Ah! One of these should do nicely," he declared, and he pulled out two equally stunning dresses. One was a sleek, iridescent red—simple, but form fitting, not to mention off the shoulder. It skimped out a bit on the bottom, but I supposed that was a part of the appeal. It was clearly meant to be rather provocative. The other was a little more my style though. Still form fitting but modest, it was a classic little black dress covered in lace and tulle in all the right places. While it didn't give up any secrets below the waist, it looked like it would cling to me like spiderwebs and morning dew.

"Can I try them both?" I asked, in case one or the other wouldn't fit. I also wasn't entirely sure which Julian would like more on our holosuite date.

"Most certainly. But I recommend the red one first," Garak said, handing me both. I took them gracefully from his hands.

"Thanks, Garak. I suppose I'm lucky you had some extra dresses after that Bajoran wedding the other night," I said, heading into one of his dressing rooms.

"Yes, you know, I don't think I've seen a union between a betazoid and a bajoran. The mother of the groom was livid when she walked in, let me tell you," Garak chuckled. "She wanted to attend the wedding naked, as is traditional for betazoids. But, I did manage to order some dresses in both the traditional bajoran and betazoid styles, so at least she had something to enjoy wearing. Pity I didn't have an elaborate bird cage for her hair."

"Bird cage?" I asked, stripping out of my uniform and carefully tugging on the red dress.

"Oh, it's an old tradition," Garak explained. "They don't do it anymore, but betazoid women used to wear their hair very elaborately with live birds in cages. I was simply making a joke of how traditional she seemed."

"Jeez, and I thought rococo design was excessive," I chuckled. "You know so much about fashion."

"Well, what else do you expect of a tailor?" Garak asked. I smiled to myself. He was right, though I had a feeling that Garak's encyclopedic knowledge of almost... well... everything, had more to do with something other than being a tailor.

He continued to chat with me about the Bajoran-Betazoid union. Apparently it had been quite contentious. Each race had very strict ceremonies when it came to weddings, and with each family having traditional values, they clashed horrifically. As it seemed, finding a compromise had taken ages. Garak had even gone as far as ordering some human style dresses in order to create a neutral option, and that was how I'd gotten this extra red one to try on. Needless to say, after hearing all that drama I was very glad to be dating another human.