1. Chapter 1

You know already, but I'll say anyway that I don't own anything DS9-y or anything from my latest crossover. But if I did, then the world would be a lot fluffier! :)

...

**The crowded ship full of hitchhikers and stowaways docked in the landing bay, and the passengers spilled out, talking and laughing.**

"**It's going to be a long day," Odo said to Kira as they observed the odd collection of people from the Promenade.**

"**If they get out of control and you need more support, just call Ops," she replied. "We don't want anyone injured like the last time." Odo nodded. Kira waved goodbye, and walked towards the turbo lift. Just as she reached it, the doors slid open and Doctor Bashir stepped out.**

"**Morning, Major."**

"**Technically, it's afternoon," she smiled. Doctor Bashir's face turned to a look of shock.**

"**Afternoon?" He rushed past Kira, his long legs taking him across the Promenade and into Quark's before she could ask him what was wrong. She shook her head, and stepped into the lift.**

*** * * **

**The tall, red-headed, freckled man detached himself from a group of rather drunk Klingons that were slurring insults at him, and stepped out onto what looked like a brightly lit shopping centre. As he walked along, admiring the lights and architecture, he spied some kind of bar. _Why not?_, he thought, and walked in, seating himself next to a heavily built, warty-looking man. He set his rucksack down on the empty seat next to him, which squealed as it hit the chair. The large, grey man looked at him curiously.**

"**Hey," the redhead called to who he presumed was the bartender. "Do you have any Butterbeer?" The ferengi looked at him.**

"**Uhh...I'm not sure. I'll ask my brother." He shuffled comically over to a creature who looked similar to him. "Brother?"**

"**What?" asked Quark, annoyed.**

"**Do we sell Butterbeer?"**

**The more loudly-dressed ferengi looked confused. "I've never heard of it," he said. "Who ordered?"**

**Rom pointed to the ginger man with the big, old-fashioned bag. Quark walked over to him.**

"**What's your name, then?" The man stared.**

"**George," he said. "George Weasley."**

"**What brings you to DS9, George?" George sighed.**

"**My business is falling apart. After my brother died, our shop stopped getting the customers, so I packed some stock, did a little magic, and ended up on some spaceship full of nobodys like me." Quark looked at him.**

"**You're in business?" George nodded. "Make much profit?"**

"**Not really," said the young man. "Like I said, no one's interested in what I've got to sell."**

"**I might be," Quark said, with a greedy look in his eyes. "Show me what you've got."**

**George leaned over to his rucksack, and unzipped it. Several high-pitched squeaks came from inside as he put his hand in and took out a fluffy, pink, wriggling ball of fluff. Quark screamed.**

"**Get out! Get out of here now, you one-eared freak!"**

"**You better leave," Rom warned him. "He doesn't like t-"**

**But George had already left.**

*** * * **

**Doctor Bashir watched the scene at Quark's from a secluded corner, a synthale clutched in his hands. He couldn't believe how stupid he had been.**

**Miles had booked a holosuite for both of them. "1100 hours on Sunday," he had told Julian, and Doctor Bashir had promised him he would be there. Because Chief O'Brien was going on a two week long mission to the Gamma Quadrant at 1400 hours that same day, and Julian hadn't woken up until _1430_! He swore, annoyed at his body clock, annoyed at Captain Sisko for arranging these stupid expeditions, annoyed at himself.**

**Perhaps he could buy Miles a gift to make it up to him, and then invite him round to his quarters and make it up some more when he got back. Julian wondered what Miles would really like. Keiko had acted strangely towards him for a week after he gave the Chief some new pajamas. That wasn't a very sensible move.**

**As the man with the large rucksack on his back ran out of the bar, Julian had a brainwave. He could buy Miles one of those things! It looked fluffy and cute, and Julian knew Miles liked cute.**

**Doctor Bashir ran like a sprinter for the second time in an hour, and caught up with the gloomy-looking man, who was rubbing one side of his head where an ear should have been.**

"**George!" Doctor Bashir cried. George looked around to see who was calling his name, and stopped walking. "Can I buy one of those creatures?"**

**George looked doubtful. "I dunno. The bartender was really scared of them. Maybe they're not worth selling."**

"**Can I have a look?" asked Julian. George reluctantly opened the bag, which emitted delighted squeals. He pulled out a yellow, considerably bigger fluffy thing. Julian's eyes widened.**

"**You're selling _tribbles_?"**

"**They're called puffeskins," George told him. "They don't need feeding, they love attention, and to be honest, they don't mind being beaten up, either." He threw the puffeskin roughly to the floor. It bounced, and landed in George's arms, squealing happily. Julian grinned.**

"**Have you got one in blue?"**

*** * ***

**Chief O'Brien walked along the corridor to Julian's quarters. He'd received a message that was waiting for him from the doctor, telling him he had a surprise waiting. The Chief pressed the button on the side of the door, and it bleeped.**

"**Come in," Julian called, and Miles entered.**

"**Julian, where were you?" he asked him, then looked at him suspiciously. "What's that behind your back?"**

**Julian grinned seductively. "It's my make up gift to you, to say sorry." Miles sighed.**

"**You didn't have to do that."**

"**Hold out your hands," Julian instructed him. Miles did. "Now, close your eyes."**

**Julian walked over, and placed the fluffy blue creature in Miles' cupped hands, and kissed him lightly on the lips. Miles opened his eyes.**

"**You got me a _TRIBBLE_?"**

"**Puffeskin, actually," Julian replied. "Don't you like it?" Miles looked at him, worriedly.**

"**I should have told you before, that I'm – Aaa_CHOO_!" He sneezed violently, dropping the puffeskin onto Julian's sofa. It squeaked appreciatively, and rolled back and forth along the sofa, humming happily to itself.**

"**- Allergic to tribbles," he finished. Julian put his arm around him.**

"**I thought tribbles were extinct?"**

"**It doesn't stop me being allergic to them!" The engineer snapped at him. The doctor looked upset.**

"**Sorry," Miles apologised. "Thanks, anyway. It was nice of you to get me something." The doctor looked concerned.**

"**Miles, your face..." he murmured.**

"**What about it?" Chief O'Brien asked.**

"**It's gone all puffy. We'll have to get you to the infirmary. I'll give you the antidote even if it's not serious, just in case we meet any more in the future." **

**Miles felt his face, which had swollen rapidly, and was now blotchy with blue spots.**

"**Do I look like Dax if I'm spotty?"**

"**No," Julian grinned. "Your _tribble_ spots are _much_ cuter..." **


	2. Chapter 2

I was asked if I was going to write any more of the Puffeskins story, and I don't usually write more than one chapter, but I thought I'd try and write another to see what it turned out like. Here's Part Two of **Puffeskins and Puffy Skin**:

...

**Chief O'Brien whistled as he repaired the replicator in Captain Sisko's quarters on board the Defiant. It was the end of the day, almost a week after the "tribble" incident, and Miles felt much better.**

"**Ah, Chief," Captain Sisko said as he entered the room. "How are you doing?"**

"**Almost done here," Miles said, and pressed a button on one of his gizmos. "There," he announced, as the replicator powered up. "Finished."**

"**Good work, Chief," Sisko said, as Miles began to pack up his tools. "Are you feeling alright? Keiko told me that you had an allergic reaction to something you ate?"**

"**That's right," said Miles quickly. "Can I go now?"**

"**Yes, you may. Thank you, Chief." Miles left the Captain's quarters, and sighed with relief.**

*** * ***

**The sound of the spin of the Dabo wheels and the drunken cries of laughter from Quark's seeped out into the Promenade on the busy Saturday night. Visitors and residents of the station in multicoloured clothes walked by, basking in the freedom of the their leisure time. Only one glum face spoiled the overall good mood.**

**George Weasley sat hunched up on a corner of the Promenade, his ancient-looking rucksack resting beside him. Two giggling Bajorans staggered past the man, laughing at the hole in the side of his head. The bag next to the young man attempted to copy the noise, and George brought his fist down onto it sharply. It made a noise like air escaping from a balloon.**

"**Oh, shut up," he muttered.**

"**Excuse me?" came the slow, sarcastic voice of the station's Chief of Security. Odo looked down at the miserable figure with disgust. "What are you doing down there?" George glanced up at the Constable in the thick, beige uniform, and scowled.**

"**What does it look like?"**

"**It looks like you're either sulking, or hiding," Odo replied. "Didn't I see you arrive off that transport craft on Sunday evening?"**

"**So what if I did?" George retorted. "I've got every right to be here."**

"**That depends," Odo said. "You look as though you've been living rough." He held out a hand to the man. George took it, and stood up.**

"**I suppose you want me to leave, then," he grumbled, as he picked up the rucksack and put it onto his back.**

"**Actually, we do have a policy that states visitors travelling without a -" Odo began, but a voice interrupted him.**

"**George! Are you OK?" Doctor Bashir emerged from Quark's, a racquetball racquet in his hand.**

"**Oh, hey...whatever your name is," George replied indifferently. "Julius or something, right?"**

"**Julian," the doctor corrected him with a smile. "Odo, you're not arresting him, are you?"**

"**No." Odo frowned. "Should I be?" Julian looked at George.**

"**Why don't we talk for a bit? You look like you need a friend." George returned the look, gratefully.**

"**Yeah, OK. Bye, Oh Doh." He followed Doctor Bashir across the Promenade. Odo rolled his eyes.**

"**Humanoids..."**

*** * ***

**Worf and Miles stepped onto the Promenade, Miles having just finished the Defiant's maintenance checks and Worf leaving his full-time quarters for an evening out.**

"**I still do not understand your obsession with holosuite battle programmes where you have no chance of winning," Worf said. Miles laughed.**

"**Don't worry, Worf – it's just a theme that Julian and I specialise in."**

"**Talking of Doctor Bashir," Worf said, as they escaped the noisiest part of the Promenade and slowed down. "Isn't that his racquet?"**

**Miles looked down where Worf was pointing. "Yeah, it is." He bent down, and picked it up. "Do you want to wait for me at Quark's? I'll go and give this to him."**

"**I'll come with you," Worf insisted, but Miles shook his head.**

"**Nah, go on. It won't take long." Worf frowned momentarily, but acknowledged Miles' request, and walked back towards the Promenade.**

**Chief O'Brien remained stationary until he was sure Worf was out of sight, and then turned right and walked into one of the corridors leading off the Promenade. It was deserted. He took a quick look behind him to see if he was being watched, and then pulled back a panel in the wall. A red light blinked back at the Chief, and he smirked.**

**He tapped two buttons in the left hand corner of the hollowed out section. Just before he pressed a third, he thought that the doctor was taking a bit of a risk, leaving his racquet just outside the hidden room.**

**Sure, Chief O'Brien knew he was there, but he didn't know how many other people knew about the roomy storage locker he'd discovered about a year ago. He'd told Julian, obviously – they had used it once or twice together when the holosuites were fully booked, but secrets were never safe on DS9, especially not when Garak and Odo were around.**

**He pressed the third button, and a door swung open. Miles stepped inside, and shut the door behind him. His mouth opened in fury as he saw Julian and George locked in a gentle, but strong kiss, arms around each other's waists.**

"**You bastard," he growled, and the two broke apart.**

"**Miles, it's not what you think -" Julian started to say, but the Chief yelled at him.**

"**You made me cheat on my wife for you! Hanging around in Ops, flirting with me, taking me to holosuites every weekend, telling me you _love_ me – and then you go and do _this_! You've ruined my life!"**

**George burst into tears. Julian looked at Miles with disgust.**

"**The kid was upset, Miles! He's lost his twin brother, his business, half his friends – and you accuse me of _ruining your life,_ just because I comforted him? You're so ashamed that you're bisexual, you can't see that there are others out there like you, who are lonely and hurt."**

**Miles sighed. "I'm sorry, Julian. I guess I was jealous."**

"**You guess? Miles, you were the one who was avoiding me, of course you were jealous," Julian replied, not nastily, but correctly. "Say sorry to George as well."**

**Miles looked at George, whose eyes were red and puffy. "Sorry, George."**

"**That's OK." George sniffed. "I copied Fred for so long, I became like a copy of him. I forgot that twins were two separate people, and now he's gone, I'm finally beginning to be myself." He stood up, shakily.**

**Chief O'Brien took his arm, and Doctor Bashir took the other. They climbed out of the storage cupboard, and the Chief shut the door.**

"**Don't tell anyone about this, will you?" he asked George. George smiled weakly.**

"**The cupboard, or your relationship?"**

"**Both!" said Julian.**

"**It's OK," George replied. "I'm going home on the next transport. I'll be back on Earth in the past before you can say 'racquetball'."**

"**Won't you need your bag?" Chief O'Brien inquired.**

"**No," George grinned, his long-gone happiness returning. "I left it under that Security Chief's desk. All it had in it was...Well, let's just hope that he's not allergic to fluff..." **


	3. Chapter 3

I was thinking I couldn't leave this story unfinished, not when Julian acted the way he did. So here's part three:

**The sound of the dermal re-generator buzzed softly as Doctor Bashir healed the wound on the Klingon's cheek.**

"**Just promise me, Worf, that you'll never practice fighting when you're half asleep again."**

**Worf looked up at him from the bed in the infirmary. "I don't promise, doctor, but I will take your concern as advice. I had rather too much blood wine last night."**

"**Oh?" The doctor questioned. "Celebrating, were you?"**

"**Not exactly." The Klingon rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. "Chief O'Brien came round. He was quite upset." Julian stopped the re-generator suddenly, and Worf looked at him.**

"**What?"**

"**Nothing," Julian said, and moved the dermal re-generator to another gash on Worf's shoulder. "Did he tell you what he was upset about?"**

"**It's none of your business what he said," Worf replied, in his usual low tone of voice. "But he didn't say much. He just drank a bottle and a half of my blood wine, and then passed out. I had to get Keiko to come round and take him home."**

**Doctor Bashir was silent as he inspected Worf for any more cuts and bruises. When he could find no more, he put the re-generator away and helped the Klingon to his feet.**

"**Just take it easy for a few days, you'll be fine."**

"**Thank you, doctor," Worf said, and walked out of the infirmary, limping slightly. The doctor sat down at his desk, and rested his head in his hands, elbows propped up on the cold, metal surface.**

"**Julian."**

**The voice behind him was instantly recognisable, but something else was intertwined with it – bitterness, anger, misery – Julian could not tell what it was. He looked around, and saw the engineer. Although it was only late morning, Miles looked like he had been working all day. There were grey shadows under his eyes, which were struggling to keep themselves open, and his skin had a sickly white tinge to it.**

"**Miles! You look awful."**

**The Chief winced. "Please don't shout. My head is killing me." Julian walked over to one of the medical cabinets, and began to mix up some chemicals. He poured them into a glass, and handed it to Miles. The engineer hesitated, but drank it anyway in a couple of mouthfuls. He shuddered.**

"**Better?"**

"**A bit. Look, Julian, we need to talk."**

"**Ah." Julian sighed. "About yesterday evening?" The Chief nodded.**

"**You hurt me, Julian." The doctor looked at him guiltily. He went to touch the Chief on his face, but Miles stepped back, so the doctor's hand was left in mid air. He withdrew it, ashamed.**

"**We need to talk," O'Brien repeated. "In private."**

"**Where do you suggest we go?" Julian said quietly. The Chief glared at him.**

"**Not in the cupboard, if that's what you're thinking. Never again."**

"**We could go back to my quarters," Julian said, but caught the angry look from the Chief's eyes. "Bad idea, sorry."**

"**Come with me to Quark's. We can use a holosuite," Miles said. The tone of his voice was clearer now he had started to recover from his hangover. It was full of anger.**

"**But it's only about 1200 hours!" Julian protested. "I've got to work, and so have you." Miles glared at him furiously.**

"**_Now_, Julian!" He took the young doctor by the wrist, and dragged him roughly out of the infirmary.**

*** * ***

**The holosuite transferred the program Miles had chosen into the room. A grey, empty sky appeared above them. A thick layer of dry sand spread out beneath their feet, stretching across to the horizon. The air was cold, and nothing moved except the doctor and the engineer.**

**Miles sat down on the desert floor, the sand invading his shoes and socks. He waved his hand at Julian, who was staring at the dead landscape around them, and beckoned him to sit down.**

"**Miles," Julian said softly. "What is this place?"**

"**This," answered Miles, "is what my heart looks like when you do what you did yesterday." Julian looked like he wanted to sink into the sand and disappear.**

"**Dead, and cold?"**

**Miles nodded, most of his anger seeping away in the still atmosphere. He laid down in the sand, facing the lifeless sky. Julian copied him, but tilted his head to look at the Chief.**

"**What about Keiko? You love her, surely your heart's not as empty as this?"**

"**I do love Keiko," Miles replied. "But my love for her isn't here. This is my heart for you, the heart that no one knows about. The heart none of your bloody medical equipment can see or measure."**

"**I understand," said Julian. "That's why you don't mind it when I date women, but as soon as I kiss a man..." He stopped.**

"**My heart dies," Miles finished. "But, even when you do go out with women, I'm still a little bit jealous." Julian smiled faintly.**

"**Like when I see you with Keiko," he murmured. The doctor moved closer to the Chief, edging himself along the the heavy, grainy sand. When his head touched Miles' curly hair, the engineer didn't flinch or move away.**

"**I'm really sorry," Julian apologised, and took the engineer's hand, holding it tight. Miles turned over to face him.**

"**I forgive you," he said.**

**Their lips met, and as they kissed, the sun emerged from the cold, grey sky and shone down upon the desert. A spring of water spilled out from the ground. It drenched the two men, who barely noticed, washing away their suffering, and bringing with it, a fresh start.**


End file.
