Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Two violins, a cellist, an oboist, another cellist, a French horn, a piccolo…was that woman carrying a sledgehammer? Intriguing, to say the least.

The beauty of holosuites was that they could accommodate nearly any size crowd, with some simple modifications. This was how an entire Terran orchestra had managed to arrange a performance on Deep Space Nine, and how Julian found himself watching them file out after their last rehearsal before the show. The event had been greatly anticipated by the station’s residents and crew over the last few days, and with an inevitable war looming, it was a welcome distraction.

It seemed that everyone Julian spoke to was turning this opportunity into a romantic prospect. All of the married couples were taking the night for themselves away from their children, long-term partners were excited for a change of pace, and what could be more romantic for someone unattached than a first date at the symphony? Not even a simulation- the real thing!

The only person who seemed unaffected by the whole affair was Garak, much to Julian’s chagrin. He and Julian watched the never-ending stream of musicians march down the Promenade as they sat together over lunch in the Replimat.

“Frankly, Doctor, I’m not sure I quite understand the point,” Garak said.

“What do you mean, ‘the point’? The point is to hear music the way it was meant to be heard.” Julian didn’t understand how a man so versed in literature of all kinds could miss the value of other cultural endeavors.

Garak huffed slightly. “No, no, I understand the appeal of live music. I mean I don’t understand…what is that thing?”

Julian followed Garak’s gaze to the bassoonist passing close by to them.

“It’s called a bassoon. Funny that caught your eye, because if I absolutely had to pick the Terran instrument your voice sounds most like, that would be it.” He flashed him a toothy grin and the brief bewilderment on Garak’s face was gratifying.

He raised one eye ridge. “Well, I can’t say I have much context for that, but I suppose I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Julian winked. He could have sworn he saw Garak’s scales flush.

“Anyway,” he prompted, taking a sip of his tea. “What don’t you understand?”

Garak shook his head slightly as if to clear it. “Ah, yes, I’m not sure I grasp why it’s considered romantic.”

Julian thought for a moment. The concept was second nature to him, but it seemed this might be a place where Terran and Cardassian culture diverged.

“Well, let’s see…performances are usually held in the evenings, which means you can go for a nice meal before or after. You know, make a whole affair of it. And dressing up is quite common, even expected. Tuxedos for men and gowns for women, and whatever feels appropriate for anyone else. That sort of thing.”

Garak may have gotten into tailoring by accident, but Julian knew he’d grown to quite enjoy fashion. “Go on,” he said, attentive.

“The venues are usually a key attraction also. Concert halls and opera houses are some of the most beautiful buildings constructed on Earth, and some of the best maintained. I imagine they’ll program the holosuite to look like the inside of some famous theater to really boost the experience.”

Julian swirled his mug and finished it.

“All of that can make you seem like you’ve entered a bygone era, I suppose.”

Garak hummed skeptically. “Well, I may not understand the sentiment, but I doubt I’ll ever get the chance to see such a performance again.” He flicked his eyes away, suddenly very invested in the food on his plate.

“So, if I understand you correctly…” Julian ventured. “You’d like to go?”

He shrugged. “I suppose so.”

“Then come with me,” Julian said, smiling.

Garak considered him for a moment. Whatever he was truly thinking, his face was unreadable. However, the flush on his scales was now obvious.

“Alright,” he assented, tone lofty as always. “I think I will. I assume it would be a faux pas to attend this sort of function alone.”

Julian beamed, feeling unreasonably happy.

“Great! I’ll stop by your quarters at 1945 hours. It’s on my way.” He gathered up his empty mug and plate.

It most certainly wasn’t on his way, and both he and Garak knew that. He swung himself out of his seat and bounced away purposefully, smirking as he imagined Garak’s face behind him.

“Wear something nice!” he called over his shoulder, just as he was out of earshot of any potential response.

This was going to be a fun night.

--

Wearing the tux Garak made for him was the obvious choice, but that still didn’t help the fact that Julian had been agonizing over his appearance for the last half hour. He felt like he was reliving his first date all over again. Was it a date? He definitely wasn’t opposed to the idea, but the confidence he’d felt earlier at lunch had long since worn off. He’d analyzed the exchange over and over again since then, not wanting to make a fool of himself if his affections weren’t returned.

After fussing with his hair for what seemed like the hundredth time, he finally decided on a more streamlined version of his usual style. His tux still fit like a glove due to Garak’s expertise. The finishing touch to the ensemble was the slightest dab of cologne to his wrists and neck, courteous of the fact that his companion had a much keener sense of smell than he did. He wondered if that corresponded to a much more central role of scent in Cardassian courtship. Julian felt his cheeks burn.

It was now or never. With one final glance at himself in the mirror, he exited his quarters and began the trek to Garak’s. Lack of confidence turned into true nerves as he stood and waited for a response to his door chime.

The door opened and Garak stood draped in a beautiful, flowing tunic in rich royal blue with teal patterned accents. A two-part neckline exposed a good portion of his neck ridges and squared off near the collarbone, dipping to a point just above his chest. With the close fitting, complimentary pants underneath, Julian was strongly reminded of the kurtas he’d worn as a boy while visiting family in India.

Julian’s breath caught in his throat as he took in Garak’s hair, gathered up into a bun towards the top of his head. It was so divergent from his normal slicked back style without a hair out of place. A single shiny black tress was pulled out from the front and hung loose by his face, just brushing the top of his shoulder. Julian longed to reach out and tuck it behind his ear. He swallowed hard.

His eyes finally travelled to Garak’s face, where he was met with a bemused and expectant expression.

“Good evening, Doctor,” he said, eyes twinkling.

“Hi,” Julian replied. He couldn’t seem to come up with anything more cogent.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

“I see you’re at least getting more than one use out of the tux I made for you. I must admit I’m glad that it will be witnessed by real people this time around.”

“I imagine it would have been rude to show up in anything else,” Julian teased, finding some solid ground again. “I wouldn’t want a put out Cardassian tailor as my date all night.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and all he could do was watch Garak’s demeanor for any kind of negative reaction. His eye ridges raised just a hint in surprise, but his voice was level when he spoke.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. I can be rather trying at best, and insufferable at worst, or so I’ve heard; wouldn’t you agree?”

Julian smirked at the faux self-deprecation. “Completely.”

They both smiled at each other for a moment, and let a beat of silence pass.

“So,” Julian said, boldly offering out his elbow. “Shall we be along then?”

Surprise returned to Garak’s face as he slipped one hand into Julian’s arm and they began to walk. “I didn’t know you were familiar with this particular Cardassian social practice.”

“Of course, you’ve had me read enough literature to pick up on it.” He smiled confidently; having absolutely no idea what Garak was referring to. Best not to let that particular secret out. The hand in the bend of his elbow was too solid and welcome to jeopardize its removal just yet.

They discussed what pieces would be featured at the performance en route, Julian giving Garak a crash course in Terran classical music and composers just in time to reach the holosuite, now turned performance hall. Julian had been correct; the holosuite had been modified to mirror the inside of the Palais Garnier in Paris. He provided some basic information about the venue to Garak as well, who was looking up and around at the ornate decoration.

“It really is beautiful,” he said wistfully. “I’m afraid Cardassian performance halls are not quite so invested in aesthetics.”

“They’re built for acoustics as well,” Julian said as they found their seats and settled in. “You’ll see soon enough. Or hear, rather.”

They were near enough to Dax and Kira for Julian to give them a quick wave, and both women wiggled their eyebrows at him, clearly questioning his choice of companion. He rolled his eyes, and they both smirked, whispering to each other like gossiping schoolgirls.

Garak was too invested in examining the artwork on the ceiling to notice. He tore his eyes away just long enough to flash Julian a genuine smile, and Julian’s heart fluttered wildly.

As the performance began, Julian was glad for the dimmed lighting. It allowed him to sneak sideways glances at Garak without being too obvious. He was engaged in the music, of course, but the angles of Garak’s face were a more visually appealing accompaniment than the musicians on the stage.

For his part, Garak was completely enraptured in the spectacle. Julian didn’t think he’d seen quite the same expression on him before now, but he loved it. The subtle tense vigilance he normally wore like an overcoat had disappeared, his posture easy where he sat next to Julian. He looked serene in a natural way; not the carefully constructed façade he wore day in and day out. At crescendos in the music he would close his eyes and take a deep breath, and exhale as it lulled. Julian wondered if he’d ever heard live music like this. He found himself smiling at the unintentional display of emotion. Whatever Garak’s past had been, and whatever had been done to him, Julian knew that at his core he was a kindhearted and gentle man in many ways, and a lover of beautiful things in all forms.

The performance came to a close and the lights came up. They lingered in their seats as the rest of the hall cleared out, debriefing much as they did with literature over lunch. Garak was thoroughly impressed, vowing to investigate more Terran music from similar time periods. Julian promised to provide him with recommendations.

“I’m not sure you can compare the two,” Garak said enthusiastically as they rose to join the back of the crowd. “Between simulated and live music, I mean. You can really feel the music when it comes from real instruments.”

Julian smiled indulgently. “Yes, I agree completely. It’s a huge reason groups like this one still exist.”

They stood outside the holosuite for a moment before wandering over to the rail overlooking Quark’s. It seemed quite a lively after party had already commenced. People were dancing, music was playing, and conversation was spirited as they watched from their perch.

“Would you like to stay for a while?” Garak asked and Julian grinned, nodding his assent.

He knew Garak wouldn’t want to fight his way through the densely packed crowd to get to the bar, so he gestured to a nearby table. “Grab that spot, I’ll get us drinks. What would you like?”

“That’s very kind of you. Kanar, please.”

“Coming right up.”

He picked his way down the spiral staircase and grabbed a spot in line. As he waited, he surveilled to see if any of the other senior officers were around- it didn’t seem so. Perhaps they’d grabbed a late dinner on the Promenade. He didn’t much care where they were, he was just happy he wouldn’t have to answer any awkward questions if he and Garak were spotted together. Though, Kira and Dax would probably poke and prod him tomorrow. And they called him the doctor around here.

He finally reached the bar. “Saurian brandy and kanar, please,” he said to Quark.

“Kanar?” Quark inquired as he began pouring both drinks. “I know you don’t drink it, so what lady would ask for that stuff? It doesn’t tend to go over well with non-Cardassians. Unless…”

Julian groaned internally. He may have escaped his fellow officers for now, but he hadn’t dodged Quark yet. “Unless what, Quark?”

“Unless he’s not a lady at all, and is in fact a certain Cardassian tailor.” He slid the two glasses across the bar to Julian.

“It’s none of your business,” he retorted, his voice firm.

Quark held up his hands defensively. “Never said it was,” he muttered. “About time, is all.”

Julian’s mouth fell open just a tiny bit at the implication and he sputtered. “I don't have time for this.”

He could hear Quark chuckle as he turned back the way he came.

Thankfully, he and Garak were posted in a relatively private spot once he made it back to their table. They spent a while sipping their drinks and conversing, about anything and everything. Many of the older folks on the station had retired for the night and trickled out, but there was still a decent sized group hanging around on the quasi-dance floor that had formed on the lower level. Garak was watching with detached interest. Julian studied him much the same way he had in the concert hall, but this time, didn’t bother being quick about it. He let his gaze linger. Eventually, Garak turned to him and blinked, taken aback.

“What is it, my dear?” he asked. Julian’s stomach warmed at the endearment.

“I’m glad that you came with me tonight,” he admitted. He thought back to his conversation with Quark. “I think…maybe we should have done this a long time ago.”

“Well, it’s not every day an opportunity like that presents itself,” Garak countered, jabbing a thumb back towards the door of the holosuite.

A small smile played at Julian’s lips. “I think you know exactly what I mean, Garak.”

“Yes,” he said softly. “I do. Thank you for having me along. It’s been a most enjoyable evening.”

Julian reached across the small table with both hands, palms turned upward, and Garak slid his own into Julian’s grip. Warm human thumbs brushed over cool Cardassian knuckles. Julian felt a small shiver pass through Garak’s hands at the contact. Their eyes met again, and Julian took the plunge.

“You look incredible tonight, Elim.”

Garak immediately dropped his eyes away and tucked his chin. “I assure you, I am not what most consider attractive by Cardassian standards.”

Julian squeezed the hands in his to get him to look up again.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not Cardassian,” he said lightly.

Garak huffed a joyless laugh. “Regardless, you could do much better than me.”

“I beg to differ,” Julian retorted. His heart ached at Garak’s obvious discomfort, likely rooted in trauma. From what Julian had gathered, there’d been enough pain and disappointment in Garak’s life; he deserved a chance at happiness. He softened his gaze and reached out to tuck that lock of hair behind Garak’s ear like he’d longed to do when the door first opened that evening, and rested his hand on the side of his face so he was forced to look Julian in the eye.

“No one’s ever told you how beautiful you are, have they?”

The ridges under Julian’s hand pulsed hot as a deep flush returned to Garak’s face and neck.

“Well, I’m telling you right now. I think you’re absolutely stunning.”

Garak leaned his cheek into Julian’s palm and closed his eyes. His lips parted, and Julian could see the tip of his tongue move behind his teeth. It took Julian a moment to realize that he was probably scent-tasting the cologne on his wrist that was now so close to his face. He let out a low rumble of appreciation for the heady scent and nuzzled against warm fingers again. A spike of heat shot through Julian’s core.

“Julian…beautiful boy…I want to be with you. I have since I first met you. But I don’t deserve you.”

Julian shook his head and brushed his thumb under Garak’s eye, where ridge met flat skin. “Nonsense. If you want me, you have me.”

Garak gave a small gasp as if Julian’s words had a physical impact on him. He withdrew Julian’s touch from his face, looking intently at their joined hands.

“Thank you, my dear. You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

“All I’ll ever want is to make you happy,” Julian said, beaming brightly at him and standing up. He dragged Garak up with him. “Let’s get out of here.”

Once again, Julian offered out his elbow, and this time Garak took it without comment.

They traveled in comfortable silence. By now the passageways were empty. When they reached Garak’s door they stopped, his hand still nestled firmly in Julian’s arm.

“This isn’t really a Cardassian practice, is it?” Julian asked, jiggling his elbow.

“Not at all,” Garak replied, his eyes glittering. “I know enough from watching humans to know it’s a distinctly human behavior between two people who are interested in each other. I just wanted to see what you would say.”

The look of indignation on Julian’s face was only half in earnest.

“To be honest,” he admitted, “I would’ve said anything to keep you from letting go.”

Of all the music he’d heard in his life, Julian couldn’t have thought of a more beautiful sound than of Elim’s unrestrained laughter filling the corridor before they both stepped into his quarters, not bothering to wait for the door to shut before their lips met.

Chapter Text

Garak’s outift and hair style for the symphony date. I commissioned this from lacefedora on tumblr back in 2019 and I’m still in love with it.