The Honeymoon's Over By JA Chapman PG13 G/B nothing graphic Disclaimer: All of the characters herein are the property of Paramount. I am merely borrowing them as they don't seem to be using them for anything more worthwhile at the moment. This story deals with the question that every writer out there seems to be asking: What if Garak and Bashir got together? The answer is, in my humble opinion, that after the initial shock and hoopla, after all the struggles and heartache-they'd drive one another absolutely batty. Be honest folks, would you actually want to live with either one of these guys? You think so, huh? Well in that case I'll let you read on and let you see for yourselves-but before that, I'd like to dedicate this to two groups of people. First, to you heavily committed married types-thanks for the anecdotes and the courage to stick it out. Secondly, to we the strong, the brave, the perpetually single. We few who put up with our committed friends (or is that our friends who should be committed?) who tell us how great it is to be married or in a serious relationship until we get one and then commiserate by saying, "Yeah, it's hell isn't it?" Yep, sure is-- Jen Picture, if you will, two men: Elim Garak-a Cardassian tailor and former agent of the Obsidian Order, and one Julian Bashir-CMO of the space station, DS9. Both men are successful, well respected by friends and colleagues, and embroiled in a mutually satisfying relationship.Imagine now that they find themselves experiancing a strange phenomena known as P.T.H.S.-Post Traumatic Honeymoon Syndrome. Both these men will soon find themselves lost in--THE MARRIAGE ZONE... *Morning Cuddles and other Tragic Comedies* Julian Julian felt himself floating on warm clouds high above the surface. His whole body was suffused in warmth...the sun caressed his skin pleasantly... ICE!!! "YIPES!" Julian tumbled onto the floor with a thump. "Wuzzat?" Garak looked down at his mate sprawled out on the floor, "Why're you down there?" "Apparrently, I was shocked out of a sound sleep when you put your cold feet on my leg." he said getting up off the floor and brushing himself off. "But you're so warm," Garak whined, "besides, my feet aren't half as bad as your snoring." "Go put on some socks," Julian gritted. Garak swung his legs to the side of the bed and donned some fleece lined leather slippers before diving back under the covers, "Better?" "Yes," Julian mumbled as he also crawled back into bed. Once again, Julian found himself rising above the... "*SNARK*smack-smack*Sigh*," Garak suddenly rolled over and threw one arm and leg over Julian. The younger man gritted his teeth in frustration and attempted to extricate himself from the tailor. Finally, Julian gave up and tried to shake his spouse awake, "Garak?" Nothing, "Garak!" "Hmmn?" the Cardassian mumbled groggily. "Roll over," he said clenching his teeth in frustration. "'Kay," the older man rolled over onto his side heavily...taking the covers with him. Julian sighed before stalking over to the chair and grabbing his thick robe. He then settled back down and wrapped it about his chilled form. He was cold but at least he had six whole inches of bed space all to himself before he had to... *B-DEEP*B-DEEP*B-DEEP*It is OH-500 hours* ...get up and go to work. "Great." Garak Garak yawned and groaned a bit as he stretched his tired, aching muscles. Everytime Starfleet threw one of their damned balls he was overrun with hordes of screaming women who wanted their gowns now and demanded to know why his off the rack size eights were so tight. "Because you're a size ten, you overfed vole she-bitch," he wanted to say...but he didn't. He was glad of the business, if not overly fond of the customers. Garak looked over at Julian, whose entire attention was currently focused on a holovid transmission, "I'm going to bed, you coming?" "In a minute," he said not even glancing up, "This is the best part-Yes! I love that scene!" "Terminator IX?" Garak raised a skeptical browridge. "Yep; blood, gore--and yet it also has a tender and thought provoking plot. What's not to love?" Julian glanced over at his spouse, "Are you sure you won't stay up and watch it with me?" Garak looked over to see a man's head being ripped off by a beefy human of Bavarian descent, "Positive." A short time later, Garak slipped between the chilled sheets and closed his heavy eyelids. Thank God the shop was closed tommorrow. *BAM*BAM*BAM*BAM*SCREEEEEECH* "What in hell!?!" he said sitting bolt upright in bed. "Oh, sorry-was that too loud?" Julian called from the living room, "I'll turn it down." "Please do," Garak muttered to himself before punching down the pillows and settling back down. Blinding light suddenly filled the room, "Hey Garak, where'd you put the Guinness, Miles brought over yesterday?" Garak squinted at the figure ib the doorway, "In the kitchen, under the sink," he mumbled. "Thanks!" Julian said, cheerily slamming the door behind him. Again, Garak attempted to... "Do we have anymore sand peas left? You know I hate the replicated ones," Julian called out, "Oh, found 'em. Nevermind, hon!" "JULIAN!" Garak shouted. "Yes, Garak?" Julian asked peeking his head into the room. "I'm very tired," the Cardassian said crossly, "Would you *please* not make so much noise?" "Sure," Julian smiled sweetly, "I'm sorry, Darling." "Thank you," Garak said rolling onto his side as the door shut. "Do you want an extra blanket?" Julian asked once again entering the room. "No," Garak bit out not bothering to look up. "Good night, Love," came the soft british accent that, as of late, could be likened to grating metal. Garak sighed and dug deeply into the bed. A few minutes later he rolled over and punched his pillow, smoothing the covers and tucking them tightly about his form. Julian sighed as the credits rolled then looked up to see Garak standing beside him, "I thought you were going to bed?" Garak counted to ten before answering, "I can't sleep," came the terse reply. "Oh, well-here," he said handing him the remote, "I'm going to bed. I'm absolutely beat-'night." Garak glared at the retreating form of his spouse and then at the remote control clenched in his strong grip. Briefly, he wondered just what the Federation courts would sentence him to if he used it to beat Julian to death. Garak then sighed and turned the holovid back on. "Welcome to the all night Terminator Blood Fest!" called the annoying voice inside the transmission. "Great." *Domestic Bliss and other Marital Myths* Julian "Garak!" Julian called out in frustration, elbow deep in clothes, "Where's my sweatshirt?" "What?" Garak called back from the kitchen. "My sweatshirt!" Julian repeated himself, "My Oxford sweatshirt- where is it?" "I threw it away," came the cultured tones. "WHAT!?!" Julian marched into the living room, "I've had that sweatshirt longer than I've been in Starfleet!" "It looked it," Garak replied as he wiped off the counter, "It was so threadbare and full of holes that the only things keeping it together were the stains and some willpower. Honestly Julian, why you are so upset over a rag I cannot possibly fathom." "It had sentimental value," he sulked. "I'll make you a new one," he said patting him in a patronizing fashion as he walked by. "It's not the same," Julian glared. "Wear something else," Garak shrugged, "I know, wear that new shirt I made for you-the Vulcan silk one with the banded collar." "I'm going to a softball game in the holosuites, Garak," he griped, "It's hardly the place for formal wear, wouldn't you agree?" "I suppose you're right," the Cardassian mused, ignoring the fact that Julian was now visibly annoyed with him, "Wear your uniform then, after all, there's hardly anything one could do to make that look worse." "My uniform-great, fantastic!" Julian said throwing up his hands and marching into the bedroom again. "GARAK!" Julian bellowed. "Yes," his companion answered calmly. "What the hell did you do to my jeans?!?" "I mended them," Garak sighed, "They were full of holes." "That's the way they're supposed to look!" Julian marched angrily out of the bedroom wearing the now perfectly mended and starched jeans with the white, billowy sleeved shirt, "How in the hell am I supposed to walk onto a ballfield wearing a pair of starched jeans and a goddamn blouse! They'll all think I'm a royal frigging fop!" Garak looked at his companion amusedly, "You mean as opposed to the everyday, ordinary one they already know you are?" Julian fumed silently for a moment, "Why must you always have the last word?" "Why, because you always make it so easy, my dear," Garak said walking out of the room, "Enjoy your game." Julian said nothing as he left their quarters, his ears already burning in anticipation of Miles' burning laughter. Garak Garak's feet were aching as he walked through the doors of his quarters. Fashionable or not, the Kyriian loafers he was wearing were headed toward the waste disposal. "Hi hon," Julians voice rang out just as the doors opened, "Tough day?" Julian's clipped British tones tickled at Garak's ears comfortingly making him send up a silent prayer of thanks. His eyes were tight shut and he imagined his companion in sensuous regalia, perhaps a finely tailored tuxedo standing in front of a candle lit feast with fresh cut tuala roses in hand. That romantic vision faded with decisive speed as Elim Garak opened his eyes to one of the most horrible sights he had ever witnessed outside of an interrogation chamber. "What's for dinner?" Julian was sprawled out on the couch in his rattiest pair of underwear and a badly faded Starfleet Academy tennis team t-shirt. Garak couldn't quite decide which was worse-the fact that there was a large tear in the left shoulder or the fact that it actually lost some of the lettering from countless washings. His feet were 'clothed' in a pair of filthy sweatsocks, one toe poking through yet another 'sentimental' hole and greeting the tailor with a merry wave. Said feet were propped up on a hand carved Cardassian coffee table which dated back to Gul Drer. On his prized side table which had been designed by Kel, the Kel, there were no fewer than five half full glasses dripping condensation on the exposed wood. Garak moved closer to the couch-the hand sewn Bolean leather couch- to see that Julian had strewn handfuls of greasy, crumbled chips all over the cushions and onto the handwoven Vulcan carpet. He had paid over two thousand credits for that carpet-wait, was that a stain? "Want some?" the young man asked as he offered Garak the bowl-the cut glass, antique italian crystal bowl he had bought at an auction the year before. "Is that-is that a chip?" he asked, his voice catching slightly. Julian looked at it critically, "Oh, yeah-I dropped it but it's okay." Garak said nothing. He merely walked toward the kitchen not yet trusting himself to speak. If he tried to speak then he'd get angry and then he'd probably have to kill the doctor. He could do it, too. The Obsidian Order had taught him well. In fact, the mere possibilities sent the Cardassians lips curving into a slight smile. "Hey, while you're in there could you get me a sandwich?" Julian called out, "Thanks, hon." Julian's ice cold corpse-right thereon the floor-a sandwich shoved down his throat. "And a napkin," he called, "I spilled some tea on the coffee table." "Bastard," Garak muttered under breath. Garak walked over to the replicator and ordered Julian a rueban, "Extra spicy mustard," he added for good measure before bringing it-and the requested napkin to his beloved companion. "Thanks," Julian said just before taking a bite, his eyes glued to the holovid, "Hey, this is a rueban. You know corned beef gives me indigestion, Garak." "Sorry," Garak replied, inwardly pleased. I hope you explode you pig. "That's okay, hon, I'll just take something later," he smiled again before taking a bite and dripping saurkraut onto the fine leather. Garak winced, "Julian, I realize you work very hard but I would appreciate it, if when you came home, you could at least clean up after yourself." Julian looked at his spouse then at the crumbs littering the couch, "Oh, sorry luv," he then sept the crumbs onto the carpet, the very expensive carpet, then poked the rest in between the cushions for good measure, "Better?" "Much." I wonder if Worf would lend me his Bat'Leth for a few minutes? *Shower Suprize* Julian Julian allowed the hot, pulsating spray to penetrate his aching muscles. One of the advantages of being a married Starfleet officer was that you were assigned quarters with real water showers. It had been a pretty rough raquetball set with Jadzia and he intended to stay right where he was until every one of his muscles stopped complaining-or until he turned into a giant prune-whichever came first. The bathroom door opened and Julian thought he heard footsteps, "Garak-that you?" "Who else would it be?" the Cardassian asked drily. "You're home early," Julian called out over the rush of the water. "Just for lunch," came his spouse's voice, "I brought some Kribblean stew and Bajoran black bread from that new place next to the shop." "Great," Julian said happily. Here he was, a young, up and coming officer married to the most facinating and exciting men in the universe and he was taking a shower in real water. Life was turning out pretty well for him...aside from losing the game against Dax but hell, he was coming home to Garak and a fantastic meal-she had Worf and a bowl of gagh. Yep, life was good. Through the shower doors Julian heard the sound of a zipper and the rustle of clothing as it hit the floor. He felt himself stir slightly as he waited for Garak to join him. "*Grunt*Ahh!" came the tailor's voice. "*Sniff*Ewww!" Julian quickly realized why Garak had entered the bathroom. "*Prrrfft*Herm*" the Cardassian groaned. Julian coughed slightly as the air became close and foul, "You okay Garak?" he managed. "I had cold hasperat souffle for breakfast," came the disembodied voice, "It's just now catching up with me." "Turn on the exhaust fan," Julian said holding his breath. "Sure*FLUSH*" "YEOW!" Julian jumped back from the scalding hot spray. "You okay?" Garak asked, concern in his voice. "I'm fine," Half boiled and oxygen deprived but fine. "Hurry up and come to the table." Oh yeah, Julian sighed to himself, life was just swell. Garak He loved this part of the day, the Cardassian mused, no customers, no noise, just the hot water cascading over his scaled flesh. If he didn't love Julian so much he probably would have run off with a plumber. Suddenly, the shower door came open and Garak shivered as a blast of icy air took away all of the delicious steam. "Where's my tennis raquet?" Julian asked the shivering Cardassian. "In the closet," Garak said reaching out and closing the shower door. Again the door popped open, "I looked." "Look again," he sighed, "It's on the shelf at the top left corner." "Oh," Julian said closing the door. No interruptions, no aggrievations, just the hot, soothing... "It's not there," Julian said opening the door again. "Oh, for Gul's sake Julian!" Garak snapped impatiently, "It's right there in the bedroom closet!" "Oh, the bedroom closet-why didn't you just say so?" And again the door banged shut. "Finally," Garak sighed. "Where are my tennis balls?" Garak sighed and turned off the water. To hell with it. *Hygiene Highjinks* Julian Julian entered the bedroom and walked over to Garak who was lying under the covers reading a PADD. He bent his head and gave the Cardassian a quick peck on the lips. "Coming to bed?" his spouse asked. "I've got an early meeting tommorrow so I suppose I'd better," he answered, heading for the bathroom. The young physician quickly showered and wrapped a thick towel around his waist before padding over to the sink. "My toothbrush." "What, dear?" Garak's voice came from the bedroom. "Why is my toothbrush on the counter?" Julian asked. "Oh, I must have grabbed it on accident," Garak answered. "You used my toothbrush?" an expression of horror crossed his face. "So?" Garak replied offhandedly. "Garak, that's disgusting!" Julian said walking into the bedroom, the offending object in hand. "My dear boy," Garak began in an amused tone, "You've had your tongue in my mouth-how is my having used your toothbrush any different?" "It just is!" Julian insisted, "It's not sanitary." "I'm sorry," Garak shrugged, "If you want, you can use mine and that will even things out." "Funny," Julian grumbled as he headed off to replicate a new toothbrush. Somethings are just too personal to share, even with the people you love. Garak Garak staggered into the bedroom rubbing the sleep out of his bleary eyes. As he splashed some water on his face he caught a glimpse of something hanging from the doorknob. "Julian!" he bellowed, "Get your damn underwear off the doorknob!" "What?" Julian called out from the bedroom, "I'm running late as it is, Garak!" Garak rushed into the room to confront his lover, "I don't care how late you're running-get your nasty underwear off the damn doorknob!" Julian sighed heavily and entered the bathroom throwing the undergarments into the hamper, "You're such an absolute priss about the littlest things, Garak." "Little!?!" Garak burst out, "You are a doctor over the age of thirty and you still have not learned to clean yourself as not to stain your shorts! Not only that but you are so proud of that fact that you insist on hanging them there like some proud explorer planting a flag for all the world to see!" "You are way overexaggerating, Garak!" Julian retorted angrily. "Exaggerating?" Garak retorted with mock disbelief, "Open the hamper-the evidence is there!" "I've got surgery Garak, I don't have time for your nonsense!" Julian bit out before exiting the room with a slam of the door. "Make sure to wash your hands first, Doctor!!!" *UnderWhere* Julian Julian tore through bureau in a desperate rush, completely naked with the exception of a towel around his waist, "GARAK!" he shouted, "Where are my shorts!?!" "In the drawer with your polo shirts," he responded from the bathroom. "Not those shorts-my Y-fronts!" Julian said in irritation. "Your what?" Garak called. "My underpants!" he gritted, "ANY underpants!" "I haven't done the wash yet," he replied calmly, toweling himself off as he entered the room. "I'm late!" Julian bitched, "Why didn't you set out my clothes for me?" "Excuse me?" Garak asked taken aback, "Since when did you forget how to dress yourself? The same time you forgot how to do laundry, perhaps?" "Funny," Julian said not the least bit amused, "It's your fault I'm late." "Oh yes," Garak nodded, "I forced myself on you in the shower--even though I was there first." "Can I borrow yours?" Julian asked pulling out pair of Garak's silk boxers. "No!" he said snatching them away. "I'm going to be late!" he pouted in a mannish way. "Tough," Garak snorted, "I've seen what your underwear have to go through and I'm not going to give you mine." "Well, what am I to do, then?" Julian asked, hands on hips. Garak crossed over to the bureau and rifled briefly through one of the drawers, "Here, wear these." Julian held the thong between his fingertips, "I'm not wearing these to work!" "Then learn some basic hygiene or you'll ruin your uniform," the other man shrugged. Julian grumbled and dropped the towel putting on the miniscule briefs, "Not one word!" he glared, "I think they're rather attractive," Garak said appreciatively. "Right!" Julian growled just before he finished getting dressed and stalked angrily toward the door. "Don't walk too fast!" Garak called out, laughter darkening his tones, "You'll chafe!" "You're sick!" Julian retorted as he exited, still hearing Garak's laughter as he hurried down the hall. ********************************************************* "...and in conclusion, I feel that...." Julian, only half listening to Odo drone on, wiggled a bit uncomfortably in his chair. "Stop figitting," Miles whispered beside him, "What's wrong with you anyway?" Julian wiggled about, clenching his butt cheeks together in a hopeless effort to dislodge the wedgie that was now reaching critical proportions, "New underwear," he whispered. "Oh," he said under his breath, "Garak's been tossing out your clothes again, has he?" "No," he grumbled, "he didn't do the laundry." "I hate it when they do that," Miles commiserated. "What?" Julian whispered, not quite catching his meaning. "Punish you by not doing your underwear," Miles nodded, "Women just don't understand that men function differently than they do-we're just...different." Julian scowled at Miles, "Garak's not a woman." "Then he should know better, shouldn't he?" the irishman retorted. "Are we interrupting your meeting, Gentlemen?" Sisko asked archly. "No, sir," the two replied back in unison. "Very well then," he nodded, "Doctor, I believe you have something to show us?" "Yes, of course," Julian said rising quickly...so quickly in fact, that his underwear nearly strangled him, causing him to instictively swivel his hips-the doctor then knocked over the metal chair he was sitting upon which snagged his pants leg ripping them off in one smooth movement. The entire senior staff sat in stunned silence as they took in the surreal image of the doctor standing before them in a lavender net thong which was totally revealling with the exception of some irridescent green sequins stitched across the basket which said, 'PROPERTY OF ELIM GARAK' in bold lettering. After a moment of shocked stillness, Julian fumbled with his torn pants in an effort to cover himself...unfortunately, by turning his back on his colleagues the view was not improved. Everyone, to their credit, did retain their composure, although a few snickers did slip occassionally, "Captain," Julian addressed him calmly although his face was blood red with embarrassment, "If it's alright, I'd like to postpone my presentation until tommorrow." "Of course," Sisko nodded, straightfaced. A bark of laughter escaped Kira before she could slap a hand over her mouth. Everyone else with the exception of Odo and Sisko turn red from exertion as they stifled the mindnumbing laughter which threatened to suffocate them. "May I be excused," he asked, already heading out the door tail first. "Certainly," Sisko nodded, "Oh, and Doctor?" "Yes, Captain?" Julian said in a brave attempt to appear nonchallant. "It's nice to know things are going so well between you and Garak," he timbered, his smile growing wide. At that point the whole room burst into heaving sobs of laughter which followed Julian even as he hurried towards the turbolift. Garak "Do you think this color looks good on me, or does it make me look sallow?" Garak asked holding the tunic up to his chest. Julian, who was on the bed working on his PADD looked up, "It makes you look green." "I thought so," Garak grumbled hanging it in the closet, "Magret insisted it had a slimming effect." "So does a diet," Julian said dryly. "Are you saying I'm overweight?" Garak asked askance. "No, of course not!" Julian said quickly. Garak allowed him to escape this one time, "I just...feel like trying something different." "Well, if you want to change your look then try starting with your boxer shorts," he said getting back to his report. Garak looked down at his fine Vulcan silk shorts before turning back to the doctor, "What's wrong with them?" "They're just not exactly inspiring," Julian shrugged, "They're boxers." "Well, I like them," Garak said defensively, "They're warm, comfortable, and they happen to be classic." "They certainly do appear classic," Julian agreed. "You think they make me look old, don't you?" he demanded. Uh, oh, "All I am saying, is that for a man who is so avant garde and completely original in everything else he does, your choice in such intimate apparrel seems a bit...staid." "Staid?" the Cardassian echoed. "Boring," Julian agreed. "You think I'm boring?" Garak's voice had a shrill edge to it. "Not you--them,"Julian waved in the direction of his partner's lower torso. "Well, then, what would you like me to wear?" Garak asked annoyed as he slipped under the covers, "A pair of low rise briefs perhaps, or maybe a thong?" "Black leather with silver spikes!" Julian laughed out loud, "Or better yet, magenta lace with fuzzy kittens embroidered around the edge!" Garak glared at the younger man for a moment, "Be careful what you wish for..." he warned. Julian gave him a mischievious smile before tossing away the PADD and curling up beside him, "Or what will you give me....?" ************************************************************ Garak looked at himself in the full length mirror and began to have serious doubts about what he was planning to do. Was it really worth all this to play a joke on Julian? He was too old for a thong, plus, as he was discovering much to his chagrin, the leather chafed some rather...sensitive areas of his anatomy. He put on the dog collar and set the leather biker's cap on his head just so. He considered sunglasses, but quickly discarded that idea: he didn't want anything to spoil his veiw of Julian's face when he returned home. He clasped the shackles around his ankles, making sure the chains didn't hobble his movements, then carefully placed the gold cliprings on his nipples. They were a bit uncomfortable but there was no way he was going to really pierce anything! When he was done, he examined himself and decided that something was missing-it just wasn't extreme enough! Quickly he took off the shackles and hurried to the replicator, chuckling nastily. When he was done, he took his prizes into their bedroom, donning them quickly and replacing the shackles about his ankles. Just as he snapped the locks in place he heard the door open. "Julian?" he called out gathering together the champagne and glasses, "That you?" "Yes!" Julian replied, "Come on out-I've got a suprize for you!" "Oh?" Garak replied evenly, "Well, I bet my suprize is better!" Quickly he scurried out the door holding the bottle aloft, "TAA-DAA! Well what do you...di..di..oh shit." Julian stood in the center of the room with the entire senior staff and...his parents looking on-all of whom were staring in morbid facination as they took in the image of Garak in a motorcycle cap, a magenta peek-a- boo lace bra with two fuzzy kittens adorning the straps-his nipples standing out as they weere adorned with a pair of gold hoops, which set off the purple feather boa he had thrown about his shoulders perfectly. They also got a good long look at the silver studded thong which the Cardassian had chosen to accessorize with a magenta garter belt, purple fishnet stockings, and a pair of silver sequinned high heels. Compared to all that and the ankle shackles, the arm tatoo that read 'I'm Feeling Butch Today' seemed fairly tame. As everyone stood in shocked silence, the Ferengi barkeep, Quark, pushed his way to the front, "Make way for the birthday ca....Garak?" "Happy Birthday," Julian said weakly, "I know it's not till next week but I thought this would make it more of a...surprize." "Excuse me!" Garak said swiftly and attempted to make a run for the bedroom. Unfortunately, the fates as well as the laws of gravity were turned against him when his heel caught in the chain sending him down with a thump, his bare bottom stuck high and shining in the air. Julian rushed forward to help him while everyone else (male) turned their heads in unison. "My, what an ...interesting mural, don't you think Mr.Bashir?" Sisko asked turning attention to the wall. "Interesting," the older Bashir choked out. "It's Cardassian, I think," O'Brien said also staring at the random green patterns, "Hypnotizing, really." "Yes," the man appeared shellshocked. "Are you okay?" Julian asked helping Garak to his feet. "No-ooh!" Again he fell, this time taking Julian with him. "Go help them!" Dax urged Worf in their direction. Worf looked uncomfortable for a moment before turning to the wall, "Actually, Captain I believe it's Klingon." "Really?" Odo said also finding a sudden interest in art. Garak at this point, was crawling on his hands and knees toward the bedroom with Julian pushing franticly from behind. Dax rushed over to open the door with Julian's mother following her. Kira merely looked on, her face alight with malicious joy while Quark was desperately searching for his holocamera he'd brought for the occassion. As they got into the bedroom, Garak immediately pulled off the heels and began to tug at the shackles but to no avail, "They're stuck!" "Where are the keys?" Dax asked looking about. "I DON'T KNOW!" Garak bellowed with frustration. "What in the name of all that is sacred were you thinking!?!" Julian demanded as he tugged uselessly at the locks. "It was a joke!" the Cardassian snapped, "Remember last night when you said you thought I was becoming staid--WELL LOOK AT ME NOW!" Julian's mother who had been silent up to this point, suddenly reached up and smacked her son on the back of his head, "OWWW! Mother!" "How dare you hurt poor Garak's feelings like that! You know better!" she accused. "I didn't call him staid," he grumbled rubbing his head, "I called his boxers staid!" "Suprize!" Garak's bark of laughter bordered on the hysterical, "No more boxer shorts!" "I didn't say I wanted a biker drag queen, Garak!" Julian said defensively. "We're going to have to pick that lock-Odo!" Dax called. "Me?" the changeling asked. "Do you know how to pick a lock?" she demanded. "I do! I do!" Quark shouted grabbing his camera. "Quark-go away!" Dax growled, "Odo, you come here." "I'm sure Garak can..." he began. "Hurry up!" Dax grimaced. "Have fun!" Kira waved from the side lines. As Kira stared at the scene unfolding before them, the men- with the exception of Quark who was pouting comicly- all exclaimed in amazement over a Cardassian mural which was in fact, an unfortunate art experiment Molly O'Brien had left from her last visit which Garak hadn't yet gotten to paint over.