#Julian is hyperaware of this and LOOOOOOVES getting a rise out of him

[youngpettyqueen]

Thanks! In that case I'd like to request Bashir and Worf with a kiss on the cheek :)

oh this is so choice anon I could kiss you myself

LOVE that yall have been giving me so many excuses to write Worf lately. especially love the excuse to write Julian and Worf, because I love them, and I will never stop spreading the Julian and Worf (and Julian/Worf) agenda. thank you for allowing me another excuse to force people to consider Them

hope you enjoy <333

Things happen way too fast.

One second, Julian is coaxing a bottle away from a very intoxicated Nausicaan, and passing it behind his back to Quark, who swoops in to take it with practiced quickness. Except, the Nausicaan towers over the both of them, and he sees exactly what they do.

And this makes him very, very angry.

The next thing Julian knows, he's on the ground, his head spinning and his cheek smarting. He doesn't get to be on the ground for very long, however, as the Nausicaan grabs him by his collar and hauls him clear off his feet.

The Nausicaan growls something, but Julian's ears are still ringing a bit too much for him to make it out clearly, and he's a bit preoccupied with trying to squirm his way out of the iron grip on his collar. Then the Nausicaan is reaching back for something at his hip, and Julian's eyes widen as he realizes that he's going to do a whole lot worse than just punch him in the face.

And then Worf comes roaring in like a lion.

At first all Julian sees is the hand that clamps down on the Nausicaan's shoulder. Then he's being dropped on his ass, and from the ground he watches as Worf hauls the Nausicaan up into the air like he weighs nothing at all, and slams him down into the nearest table with such force that he puts him through it.

Worf hunkers down over the Nausicaan, his hands still fisted in his jacket. His eyes are burning with rage, his lips pulled back over his teeth in a display of ferocity. "If you harm the doctor again," He snarls, "I will kill you where you stand." He doesn't say it like a threat, he says it like a vow. It's backed up by his posture- coiled tight, ready to strike should the Nausicaan so much as breathe wrong.

The Nausicaan, of course, is too dazed to respond.

Worf drops him, letting him flop back against the broken remains of the table. He draws himself up to his full height, then steps off the Nausicaan and moves over to where Julian is still sitting on the ground. He holds a hand out to him.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his tone significantly softer.

Julian stares up at him for a moment, starstruck. Then he nods, takes Worf's hand, and lets himself be pulled up to his feet. It never stops being unfair, just how easily Worf lifts him.

He stumbles as he stands. Worf is quick to steady him. "'M alright, 'm alright," Julian assures him, wincing as he gingerly touches his cheek, which hurts like hell, "Just... had my bell rung, is all. I'm alright." He'll probably have a wicked shiner, but it's nothing a quick stop at the infirmary won't fix. Still, it smarts when he talks.

Worf leans down, examining the injury for himself. "You are bleeding," He observes, "I will take you to the infirmary." He decides.

"Oh, that isn't necessary," Julian says, even as Worf takes him by the arm and guides him away from the scene of the fight, "I can get there just fine. Beside, I'm sure Odo's going to want to talk to you about..." He glances back to see a couple of Starfleet Security officers moving in to deal with the fallen Nausicaan, "That."

"The Constable will wait." Worf replies curtly. Clearly, he's not going anywhere.

Julian can't help but chuckle. "You're being awfully protective." He remarks, his tone light, bordering on teasing.

Worf huffs, an irritated sound. "There are few things as dishonourable as striking a healer," He gruffs. Then, softer, almost hesitant, he adds, "And I... do not enjoy seeing you hurt."

Julian softens at the admission, his smile going from teasing to warm and genuine. "That's very sweet, Mr. Worf," He hums, and he bites back a laugh as Worf pointedly averts his eyes, "I'm alright, really. A regenerator will have this fixed before you can blink. But..." He tries to catch Worf's eye again, "Thanks. For the rescue, I mean. Usually I'd insist I can fight my own battles, but I suspect our Nausicaan friend was about to turn me into a kebab, so your intervention is much appreciated." He rambles a bit, but the sincerity is there all the same.

"That is precisely why I intervened when I did," Worf tells him, confirming Julian's suspicions, "I would have intervened regardless, but when he reached for his blade, I was compelled to act... quickly." He admits.

Julian doesn't really want to think about how close he got to being run through. He remembers the Academy courses on artificial and biosynthetic organs, and he remembers the case study his class did on Captain Jean-Luc Picard's artificial heart, which he got after a Nausicaan stabbed him. In a bar fight. Much as he admires Captain Picard, he has no desire to also have an artificial heart.

So, he breezes right past all those thoughts, and goes right back to teasing. "It almost sounds like you were worried about me." He comments, saturating his voice with charm.

"I was not worried," Worf refutes, again, without making eye contact, "I merely did not desire to see you stabbed in a... bar fight. It would be... unbecoming." He grumbles.

"Oh, yes, unbecoming," Julian nods, mock serious, "As opposed to, say, being stabbed in a proper battle."

"Yes," Worf agrees, not catching Julian's sarcasm, "That would be a far more worthy death."

From literally any other person, that would be an insane sentence. From Worf, however, Julian recognizes the compliment. His grin broadens. "Are you saying I'm worthy of a grand and glorious death on the battlefield?" He asks, leaning into Worf's arm, "Mr. Worf, that's positively romantic."

Worf looks like he might genuinely combust, his face flushing a deep, dark shade as he grumbles under his breath. Julian chuckles, rich and warm, continuing to cling to his arm as Worf, despite the teasing, continues to walk him to the infirmary. Such a gentleman.

When they do arrive, Worf turns to him, still obviously flushed. "I will go speak to the Constable," He says, all serious, as he tends to be, "I suggest you do the same once you are released."

Julian snaps a two-finger salute. "I'll be there in a jiffy," He agrees, "I'm sure Odo will want my statement." He's not looking forward to that. Dealing with all the statements and questions is more of a pain than being punched in the face. But if he doesn't go tonight, Odo will just hound him tomorrow, so he might as well bite the metaphorical bullet and do it sooner rather than later.

"Be sure to tell him the Nausicaan was going to make an attempt on your life." Worf instructs.

Julian still really doesn't want to think about that. "How could I forget," He sighs, "Don't let me keep you. You've been the perfect gentleman, but I can take it from here. Like I said, this won't take long. You'll probably still be in Odo's office when I get there." It's probably going to be a long night for both of them. Joy of joys.

"In that case, perhaps I should wait," Worf suggests, "It may be... safer, if I escort you." He adds, somewhat awkwardly.

Julian raises a brow at him. "You really are being protective," He observes. He chuckles, and gives his head a shake, "I'm a big boy, Worf. I can handle myself. But I'll tell you what," He says, "If I think I need an escort, I'll ask Nurse T'Strei." He offers as a compromise. He has absolutely no intention of actually asking for an escort, he just knows Worf won't back down from this. Worf's protective tendencies are endearing, to be sure, but he has a lot of pride, and he can only take so much.

Worf considers this for a moment. Then he nods. "Very well," He agrees, "I will see you in the Constable's office." He turns to leave.

"Hold on," Julian catches him by the sleeve. Worf looks back at him, and Julian steps closer, smiling fondly as he looks up at him, "There's an old Earth custom that comes with walking me home, you know." He hums, a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

Worf just looks confused. "This is not your home." He points out.

Julian chuckles. "I practically live here," He reminds him, "So it's close enough for me to do this." Bold as brass, he tugs Worf even closer, and goes up on his tiptoes so that he can give him a sweet little peck on the cheek.

Worf's entire body goes rigid. He freezes in place like a statue, like he's a part of the computer that's just shut down. Any of the blush he'd managed to shake off roars right back to his face, across his nose, he's probably blushing right to his ears under all that hair.

Julian lowers himself back down with a grin. "See you soon, Mr. Worf." He purrs.

Worf blinks. Then he blinks again, and clears his throat. "Yes," He jerks a nod, "See you. Soon." And then he turns on his heel and takes off at a brisk march.

Julian watches him go, lingering until he's out of sight. Barely aware of the sting in his cheek, he ducks into the infirmary, humming cheerfully and much, much too pleased with himself.