Work Text:
Julian has never been much for speeches, no matter what his husband will tell you. The biggest speech he has ever found himself giving was given as a dead man walking. A final message to the one man he never thought he’d get to see again, to give both of them the closure they never thought they’d get to have. The day they got married, on Deep Space 9, to keep him from being taken by Section 31 into the dark corners of the known universe and killed for uncovering their secrets, he was ultimately relieved that Cardassian weddings didn’t involve vows.
He supposed there were any number of standard human wedding vows he could have pulled up and rattled off in order to fulfill his duty in the moment, in front of people. He also knows Garak has no expectations of him to perform a human rite that he may not even fully know about. But he wants to do this, he wants to stand in front of their friends, family, their children, and he wants to say these words. If he’s honest with himself he’s been putting it off longer than he should have, seeing as their anniversary party is tonight. In a little over an hour, actually. He supposes he’s always been good at coming in just under the wire on things. Guests have been arriving for a few days, with Miles most notably claiming the weather on Arawath is bad for his old bones. Not that that impacted his ability to play darts, he assured Julian.
Sighing, and trying to keep himself from getting unnecessarily anxious Julian grabs his PADD and begins to scroll through a series of traditional, and non-traditional, human wedding vows.
First Result:
“I, Julian, take you Elim, to be my spouse,”
Accurate, succinct. No issues yet.
“to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse,”
He supposes they’ve already faced their worse, but he shouldn’t assume. There will always be dark days in their future, but that’s never stopped them before. As for better? This is better than anything he could possibly have hoped for for himself. And for Elim. Serviceable vows.
“for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.”’
They’ll never be poor, not in a real way. Not in the way that Julian has learned to be, hiding in safe houses with nothing to eat for longer than a typical human could have managed. Not when Garak has managed to invest and save his inheritance in a diverse portfolio of resources that it would take a forensic accountant years to completely untangle.
They’ve faced sickness, known health, and looked into the future together at a world they want to rebuild.
The words still feel shallow. They don’t capture the full weight of what he feels for his husband. The way his hand searches for Elim first thing when he wakes up in the morning, to see if he’s there next to Julian in their bed. The way he catalogs every scrape and scar with his eyes, his hands, his lips, so that he can tell if his husband is trying to sneak another injury past him without ending up on the receiving end of some standard human fussing.
Second Result:
“I, Julian, choose you, Elim, to be my husband,”
Are they all going to be like this?
“to respect you in your successes and in your failures,”
He has a sneaking suspicion that if he earnestly promised to respect Elim in his failures he’d very quickly find himself with a husband laughing too hard to breathe. They both know that to be safe they have to maintain control, and count more successes than not. Their failures are plenty, they’ve both laid them bare before the other whether by willingly retelling a story or by standing as witness, but they also know their failures come with body counts.
“to care for you in sickness and in health, to nurture you, and to grow with you throughout the seasons of life.”
This is closer, he thinks. These words are closer to what he feels in his bones. Nurturing each other, healing and growing together. The idea of spending the ever changing seasons of his life with Elim at his side brings him a sense of peace he didn’t think he’d get to have. He will promise to love every version of his husband, every new facet of each other that they find and explore together. Maybe this is what he’ll bring to their anniversary dinner.
At the very least it’s going on the list. But there are still more to consider.
Third Result:
"With this ring, I thee wed, as a symbol of a love that has neither beginning nor end. I vow a love as pure as the gold within this simple band and a trust and a faithfulness forever."
Well that’s a no. Trust and faithfulness, maybe. But the rest feels high in drama. And if he’s going to bring dramatics into this, he might as well bring words of his own.
With a sigh Julian navigates back to the final page he saved earlier for review.
Fourth (and hopefully final) result:
“Before my life was joined with yours, I was incomplete. Before I loved you, everything was dark. Now that our lives are joined, I am full in love, in laughter and in light. You are my everything and I give all I have to you, that you may have all you want and need.”
Julian’s chest feels a bit tight. The ghost of the ache from carrying so much love for his husband that he never thought he’d get to express, to share. This might be it.
A knock on the door jerks him out of his thoughts and he smiles as Rivka tells him it’s time to come down for dinner.
In the end he decides not to give a speech at their dinner, instead just basking in the joy of everyone around them. But later that night, when they’re alone in their bed, Julian interrupts his husband mid-rant. It’s not that he isn’t interested in Elim’s personal mission to reform their local educational district via policy changes and bribes of home baked goods, it’s just that if Julian doesn’t start now he might lose the nerve entirely.
He stumbles, a little bit, over the beginning of the words.They’re not poetry, he doesn’t have the way with words his husband has, but he can be honest.
I, Julian, have loved you, Elim, for longer than I’ve known what love like this was meant to feel like. I have loved you every time I sat across from you at a table and didn’t recognize it, and I will love you from across a thousand more while knowing it fully. You have brought me home, when home was lost to me. You bring love, and joy, and laughter, and infinite textiles into my life and I will never stop thanking you for everything you do to keep me safe. You are the first person I want to tell my joys, my gossip, my sorrows, and my secrets to. You are the last person I want to see at the end of every day and the first person I want to see every morning. You are the only home I have ever wanted. You are the best choice I have ever made.
He would have kept going, probably. Would have worked his way to sickness and health and richer and poorer and laughter and light. But Garak silenced him with a kiss. His preferred way to be silenced, if he’s honest, which he’s once again trying to be at this moment.
The rest is a story for another time. Another day, another year, another morning together, another week apart working on a better world.
Many years from now, at 50 years of marriage, should they live that long, they’ll still be deciding to choose each other every day. And maybe that’s the only vow they ever needed.