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Julian doesn’t know what he expected when Quark called him and asked him to come to the bar, but Miles and Garak clinking glasses of whiskey together and smiling at each other certainly wasn’t it.
“Uh,” is what makes its way from Julian’s mouth instead of any sort of useful question. He flicks his gaze over to Quark, hoping for some kind of explanation, but the Ferengi just shrugs as if surrendering responsibility over the situation, which is clearly what he’s doing.
“Julian!” Miles exclaims happily. “We were jus’ talking abou’ you.”
Garak simply grins. It’s not an open smile, but it’s not an entirely false one either. It’s settled somewhere near fond.
“Miles, are you…” Julian glances at the unusually quiet Garak, then back to Miles. “Are you drunk?”
Before Miles can answer, Garak finally speaks. “I’m not,” he protests, though there’s an unfocused look about his expression that makes Julian certain he’s lying. “I’m merely...merely slightly intoxi-cated.”
Julian raises an eyebrow at the slight stammer. Garak is still speaking Federation Standard, impressively, but it’s clear that he’s choosing his words carefully and that the pronunciation is giving him more trouble than he’ll admit.
“Well, I am!” Miles declares, refilling Garak’s glass from the bottle on the table between them. “Drink up.”
With no small amount of amazement, Julian watches Garak actually listen to Miles.
“How did this happen?” Julian asks, directing his question towards Miles if only because he’s more likely to get a straight answer from the engineer.
“Tradition!” Miles replies firmly, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.
“Tradition,” Garak echoes with a nod.
Julian glances back and forth between them, still no closer to understanding any of this. “What tradition?”
“You’re dating a shady man, Julian,” Miles states. Garak nods again, not bothering with his usual ‘plain, simple tailor’ routine. “I jus’ made clear what would happen if he hurt you.” Miles and Julian both turn to Garak, who smiles pleasantly at both of them.
Garak speaks slowly and carefully, over-enunciating his words. “The chief said he would transport me into space and erase the logs, so no one would ever know.”
Neither Garak nor Miles react to Julian’s aghast expression.
“Then we drank!” Miles adds, pouring the last of the bottle into their glasses and raising his for a toast.
“After Miles threatened you?” Julian asks Garak incredulously.
Garak clinks his glass with the chief’s, then answers Julian with a nod.
“It’s tradition!” Miles protests.
“Tradition?” Julian looks between the two of them skeptically.
“Tradition,” Garak echoes solemnly. After a moment he adds a nod for good measure.
Julian lets out a sigh as he gives up on getting any further information, then offers Garak his hand. “Come on, love. Let’s get you home.”
Garak grins, openly, lovingly grins at the endearment. He takes Julian’s hand, uses it for balance as he stands, then wraps his arm around Julian’s waist, as much out of affection as from a need for physical support.
“Goodnight, Miles,” Julian says.
“G’night, Julian, Garak,” Miles replies.
Garak nods rather than speak.
Julian manages to maneuver them back to Garak’s quarters. At some point on their journey, Garak gave up on speaking Federation Standard and began to murmur sweet nothings in Kardasi against Julian’s shoulder. Julian coaxes Garak out of his clothing and into some nightwear, then he guides his lover into bed.
As he makes a few preparations for the morning hangover, Julian remembers the image of his best friend and his lover talking happily together, and he smiles.