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chanter1944This is honoring another lightning round exchange at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
help_haiti. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dreamlittleyo asked for nonexplicit Sisko/Bashir, and made reference to characters being uncertain of their feelings, as well as Dax knowing about what was going on. This resulted. I really, really hope this works! I also admit that one of Sisko's lines, and I won't say just which one, is pure and shameless... well, almost shameless wish fulfilment on my part. Mmm--anyway. Here y'go.
Title: No Place For Logic
Author: Chanter
Fandom: DS9
Pairings: Sisko/Bashir
Rating: PG-ish, PG13 at the most
Summary: Dax has no idea, sometimes, how two people so fundamentally different even tolerate each other.
1175 words
Jadzia Dax has no idea, sometimes, how two people so different even tolerate each other.
She's seen Julian play games, physical and mental; seen him attempt everything from the simplistic to the downright impossible. She knows plenty well that he’s more than a little on the theatrical side, even on his better days. Especially on his better days. And somehow, Jadzia doesn't see Ben Sisko going in for - hell, putting up with - that kind of elaborate theater for very long. Sure, there's such a thing as compromise, but there's leeway and then there's "Enough is enough, Dr. Bashir." One man revels in untangling cat's cradle nightmare knots in the truth. The other doesn't appreciate when good faith honesty comes with unnecessary snarls.
They're both complicated men. Jadzia knows enough about one and more than enough about the other to be utterly certain of that fact. It's just that they're complicated in entirely different ways. One is a labyrinth of details, the other is steady candor. And yet they work.
How—the gods know how, some days. She's seen ben walk a fine line indeed between exasperated and disbelieving in his dealings with the doctor. She's seen the look on Julian's face when he thinks no one in authority's watching, the look that says good God, this is absurd, this is trivial, this is beneath me. And yet, whoever and whatever they are to one another when they're on duty... they work. Somehow.
Ben Sisko's not a suggestive man, not in the way Julian is. Ben doesn't turn a walk down a corridor into something to be watched, something to be admired--not for those reasons, not intentionally. That's not his style. Leave it to Julian to draw eyes, draw glances, turn heads. Whether it's conscious or just force of long-engrained habit, Jadzia doesn't honestly care to find out. And yet it's Julian she's caught watching Ben; from the corner of one eye, from behind an upraised hand, over the shoulder of some innocent passerby. She's seen, too, Ben's half-second glances back, his look that telegraphs 'I see you, I read you clear if not loud, message received' Plain as artificial station day... or at least, telegraphs it to anyone who knows the station commander as well as Dax does. Admittedly, the list of people who know him that well can be counted on the fingers of one humanoid hand, and maybe that’s why there’s so little in the way of relevant gossip flying in Quark’s.
She can imagine - and though she tries, she can never quite manage to feel scandalized when she does - fragments of scenes playing out in quiet moments. She knows enough about Julian Bashir to be sure that at least once, desire will war with uncertainty, with propriety, and as for Ben? Well. He's never been one to pull punches regardless of who's on the other end of the comm line. Ben doesn't touch him, doesn't hint at anything by the way he moves, just leans fractionally toward Julian in the halflight. He's the picture of serious intensity, a picture Jadzia's honestly more used to seeing on the Defiant's bridge, and his eyes never leave Julian's face as he speaks. "Doctor--" pause, infinitesemal but there all the same. "Julian. If you would rather not do this--" and his meaning is clear, clear as the hint of desert-dry humor coloring his words, even before he finishes his sentence. "Tell me. I don't make a habit of forcing myself on my staff."
She can sooner see Worf in a tutu and tiara. On duty. In front of gul Dukat, Damar and half a dozen minders. Ben Sisko's never forced himself on anyone in his life.
That erases Julian's hesitation, and then some - "No! No, I want to do this. I want to." He's eager enough, not to mention concerned enough that he's crossed some invisible line, that he's all but stumbling over his answer. It’s half a wonder he doesn’t say ‘sir’. Pause. His is noticeably longer, noticeably more charged, filled with something very like shyness. Could it be, the ever-vociferous Julian Bashir is finally lost for words? He’s almost mumbling when he finally gets his question out. "But we, we can go slowly, I--" He's looking at the floor.
Ben doesn't try to lift Julian's gaze from the carpet, just reaches out toward him, gathers him in. Again, there’s nothing truly suggestive in the way he moves, and there’s no telling whether or not that’s intentional. Maybe it is. "That we can," he says, and his voice carries a note of warm reassurance Dax knows full well doesn't get used on just anyone. "Slow as you like, Julian. Slow as you like."
Once, just once, she can’t resist it. It’s not something she’ll try a second time; incurring the wrath of a superior officer, not to mention such an old friend, isn’t on Dax’s list of to-dos on most days. Not without a damn good reason, anyhow. She waits until relative quiet, a break in the flow of ships docking and departing, a lull in conversation with Kira, before she moves. Where they are isn’t paramount; Julian’s furtive glances, caught by chance and educated guesswork, and Ben’s fractional answering nod, are much more so. She can picture them just inside the doorway to one set of quarters—probably Ben’s, as she can’t truly see the doctor bringing the station commander home without running a plausibility check. Dax is used to Julian turning a certain sort of look futilely on her, but it’s Ben murmuring in his ear that has him wide-eyed, now. “We have time,” he says, and here there is a meaning running plain beneath his words as he leans, sleeves brushing sleeves, “Dr. basher.”
She can’t resist it. Not this once. He’ll kill her, but she just. She can’t.
“Dax to Sisko.”
She can see it, hear it, plain as the readout in front of her nose. Ben’s exasperated sigh is barely audible as they break apart. He’s grimacing expressively at the ceiling even as Julian’s hissing something under his breath in Arabic that’d likely make a Ferengi’s ears fall off. She keeps the laughter from her voice by sheer force of will as the scene in her mind’s eye explodes in a starburst, but she’s still smirking mightily at her instrument panel when both men enter. One is visibly ruffled and scrambling to hide it, the other’s slightly, only slightly, better at suppressing his irritation. “You’d better have a good reason for this, Old Man.”
Never, in eight very full lifetimes, has a wink been laced with so much meaning.
Jadzia isn’t sure just how two men so fundamentally different tolerate each other, let alone do what they do, mean what they do. Then again, she knows, she’s not the one who has to be sure in the end. And if they’re sure--and they are, she’s wise enough to tell that much, then in all seriousness, it’s good enough for her.
help_haiti. dreamlittleyo asked for nonexplicit Sisko/Bashir, and made reference to characters being uncertain of their feelings, as well as Dax knowing about what was going on. This resulted. I really, really hope this works! I also admit that one of Sisko's lines, and I won't say just which one, is pure and shameless... well, almost shameless wish fulfilment on my part. Mmm--anyway. Here y'go. Title: No Place For Logic
Author: Chanter
Fandom: DS9
Pairings: Sisko/Bashir
Rating: PG-ish, PG13 at the most
Summary: Dax has no idea, sometimes, how two people so fundamentally different even tolerate each other.
1175 words
Jadzia Dax has no idea, sometimes, how two people so different even tolerate each other.
She's seen Julian play games, physical and mental; seen him attempt everything from the simplistic to the downright impossible. She knows plenty well that he’s more than a little on the theatrical side, even on his better days. Especially on his better days. And somehow, Jadzia doesn't see Ben Sisko going in for - hell, putting up with - that kind of elaborate theater for very long. Sure, there's such a thing as compromise, but there's leeway and then there's "Enough is enough, Dr. Bashir." One man revels in untangling cat's cradle nightmare knots in the truth. The other doesn't appreciate when good faith honesty comes with unnecessary snarls.
They're both complicated men. Jadzia knows enough about one and more than enough about the other to be utterly certain of that fact. It's just that they're complicated in entirely different ways. One is a labyrinth of details, the other is steady candor. And yet they work.
How—the gods know how, some days. She's seen ben walk a fine line indeed between exasperated and disbelieving in his dealings with the doctor. She's seen the look on Julian's face when he thinks no one in authority's watching, the look that says good God, this is absurd, this is trivial, this is beneath me. And yet, whoever and whatever they are to one another when they're on duty... they work. Somehow.
Ben Sisko's not a suggestive man, not in the way Julian is. Ben doesn't turn a walk down a corridor into something to be watched, something to be admired--not for those reasons, not intentionally. That's not his style. Leave it to Julian to draw eyes, draw glances, turn heads. Whether it's conscious or just force of long-engrained habit, Jadzia doesn't honestly care to find out. And yet it's Julian she's caught watching Ben; from the corner of one eye, from behind an upraised hand, over the shoulder of some innocent passerby. She's seen, too, Ben's half-second glances back, his look that telegraphs 'I see you, I read you clear if not loud, message received' Plain as artificial station day... or at least, telegraphs it to anyone who knows the station commander as well as Dax does. Admittedly, the list of people who know him that well can be counted on the fingers of one humanoid hand, and maybe that’s why there’s so little in the way of relevant gossip flying in Quark’s.
She can imagine - and though she tries, she can never quite manage to feel scandalized when she does - fragments of scenes playing out in quiet moments. She knows enough about Julian Bashir to be sure that at least once, desire will war with uncertainty, with propriety, and as for Ben? Well. He's never been one to pull punches regardless of who's on the other end of the comm line. Ben doesn't touch him, doesn't hint at anything by the way he moves, just leans fractionally toward Julian in the halflight. He's the picture of serious intensity, a picture Jadzia's honestly more used to seeing on the Defiant's bridge, and his eyes never leave Julian's face as he speaks. "Doctor--" pause, infinitesemal but there all the same. "Julian. If you would rather not do this--" and his meaning is clear, clear as the hint of desert-dry humor coloring his words, even before he finishes his sentence. "Tell me. I don't make a habit of forcing myself on my staff."
She can sooner see Worf in a tutu and tiara. On duty. In front of gul Dukat, Damar and half a dozen minders. Ben Sisko's never forced himself on anyone in his life.
That erases Julian's hesitation, and then some - "No! No, I want to do this. I want to." He's eager enough, not to mention concerned enough that he's crossed some invisible line, that he's all but stumbling over his answer. It’s half a wonder he doesn’t say ‘sir’. Pause. His is noticeably longer, noticeably more charged, filled with something very like shyness. Could it be, the ever-vociferous Julian Bashir is finally lost for words? He’s almost mumbling when he finally gets his question out. "But we, we can go slowly, I--" He's looking at the floor.
Ben doesn't try to lift Julian's gaze from the carpet, just reaches out toward him, gathers him in. Again, there’s nothing truly suggestive in the way he moves, and there’s no telling whether or not that’s intentional. Maybe it is. "That we can," he says, and his voice carries a note of warm reassurance Dax knows full well doesn't get used on just anyone. "Slow as you like, Julian. Slow as you like."
Once, just once, she can’t resist it. It’s not something she’ll try a second time; incurring the wrath of a superior officer, not to mention such an old friend, isn’t on Dax’s list of to-dos on most days. Not without a damn good reason, anyhow. She waits until relative quiet, a break in the flow of ships docking and departing, a lull in conversation with Kira, before she moves. Where they are isn’t paramount; Julian’s furtive glances, caught by chance and educated guesswork, and Ben’s fractional answering nod, are much more so. She can picture them just inside the doorway to one set of quarters—probably Ben’s, as she can’t truly see the doctor bringing the station commander home without running a plausibility check. Dax is used to Julian turning a certain sort of look futilely on her, but it’s Ben murmuring in his ear that has him wide-eyed, now. “We have time,” he says, and here there is a meaning running plain beneath his words as he leans, sleeves brushing sleeves, “Dr. basher.”
She can’t resist it. Not this once. He’ll kill her, but she just. She can’t.
“Dax to Sisko.”
She can see it, hear it, plain as the readout in front of her nose. Ben’s exasperated sigh is barely audible as they break apart. He’s grimacing expressively at the ceiling even as Julian’s hissing something under his breath in Arabic that’d likely make a Ferengi’s ears fall off. She keeps the laughter from her voice by sheer force of will as the scene in her mind’s eye explodes in a starburst, but she’s still smirking mightily at her instrument panel when both men enter. One is visibly ruffled and scrambling to hide it, the other’s slightly, only slightly, better at suppressing his irritation. “You’d better have a good reason for this, Old Man.”
Never, in eight very full lifetimes, has a wink been laced with so much meaning.
Jadzia isn’t sure just how two men so fundamentally different tolerate each other, let alone do what they do, mean what they do. Then again, she knows, she’s not the one who has to be sure in the end. And if they’re sure--and they are, she’s wise enough to tell that much, then in all seriousness, it’s good enough for her.
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no subject
Date: 2010-01-21 05:56 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for this, I loved it!
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Date: 2010-01-21 06:17 pm (UTC)*giggling* I'm sure Julian was mentally cursing Trill interruptus all the way to ops.
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Date: 2010-07-24 06:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-29 06:30 am (UTC)