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“Garak, I'm home!”
Julian toes off his shoes in the entryway and sets his bag down on a side table. He sighs and stretches. It's been a long day at the clinic. He changed out of his uniform at work, and walked home in a blue boat-neck top and a pair of loose trousers. His attire is, as usual, a little bit scandalous by Cardassian standards, but as he has told Garak numerous times, if they want him to wear long sleeves and high collars they will have to find themselves a colder planet. Besides, he's found that most people are willing to forgive his strange alien ways, and really the only one who ever complains is Garak. (Julian will usually offer a retort along the lines of “I'm sorry, I wasn't aware you were so disgusted by my unsightly collarbones, darling,” and Garak will roll his eyes, and the subject will be dropped. Julian knows he doesn't really mind, anyway. He just likes arguing.)
When Julian passes through the hallway and into the kitchen, he finds Garak fussing with something at the counter. Garak glances up at him briefly, shooting him a small smile.
“Welcome home, my dear.” He gestures at the table. “Please, have a seat. I'll be with you shortly.”
Curiously, Julian takes his usual seat at the small table. He tries to get a glimpse at what Garak is doing, but he can't make anything out from this angle. He has to wait a few minutes, fidgeting, before Garak makes a soft, pleased noise and turns around, holding a steaming teapot. He approaches the table and sets it down. Next to it, he places a knife, resting on a neatly folded piece of cloth. Finally, with great care, he sets a small ceramic cup down in front of Julian. It's a beautiful, handmade thing, glazed in deep brown and sky blue. Garak fills it with tea—not red leaf, nor Tarkalean; the scent is spicy and floral and unfamiliar—and then replaces the pot on the table. He sits down, folds his hands on the tabletop, and looks at Julian.
“When Tain asked me to return to Cardassia with him,” he says, “we had a conversation where he told me he was going to have Mila killed. I was terrified. He said it to terrify me, of course, and to test me, because we both knew I couldn't afford to show any fear. He said he knew I was fond of her, as though it were an accusation. Fond! Of my mother! When I interrogated Odo, I was still thinking about her. I wondered if, when I was finally allowed back on Cardassia Prime, it would be for my mother's funeral. In the end, I suppose it was.”
Julian feels himself tear up. Not because of the story, sad as it is, but because he's been living on Cardassia for two years now, and reading Cardassian literature even longer. He knows what this means. He knows what Garak is doing. Julian takes a deep, steadying breath before lifting the cup. He takes a drink from it, never breaking eye contact, and then passes it across the table to Garak.
It is at this point that he panics.
Julian knows that the most crucial part of a Cardassian engagement is the exchanging of secrets. It's a display of trust—a way to show your partner that you have faith that they'll keep sensitive information about you private, and a way to promise you'll do the same. In Cardassian society, there is no greater intimacy. The problem is that Julian Bashir is something of an open book. He had his one big secret, but his augmentation hasn't actually been a secret in years, and he's never been much good at keeping quiet about anything else. Even things that he might not share with most people—his feelings about his parents, how attached he still is to Kukalaka, the fact that he flubbed that exam question on purpose—he has shared with Garak by now. He's not like Garak, wrapped in layers and layers of subterfuge like a flower, able to pluck a single petal and hand it over with many more to spare. He's not Cardassian. And now he's ruining the ritual. Julian clears his throat nervously.
“When I was fourteen I had a crush on— No, fuck, I'm sorry, that's not good enough. One time— No, no, I've told you that one. Shit. Maybe, um, how about—”
He cuts himself off. Garak is smiling at him, tight-lipped, trying to hold back a laugh. Julian huffs and takes a breath. He can do this. He can think of a secret that's worthy of the occasion. He thinks for a moment.
“When… I was trapped in the Dominion simulation,” he says slowly. “I saw you die; you know that. But it wasn't just that. You were… different. You told me you'd missed me. You barely left my side the entire time I was there. It was nice. And— and when it turned out to have been fake, I thought… I thought, I should have known. Because the real Garak would never show me that kind of affection.” He smiles softly and glances down at the teacup. “I was wrong, obviously.”
Garak picks up the cup and reverently drinks from it. When he sets it back down, he's smiling.
“I will keep this secret for you, Julian Bashir,” he says softly. “And all of your secrets, until the day I die.”
“All of your secrets,” Julian echoes, in only lightly accented Cardassian. “Until the day I die.”
Once they've each had another drink from the cup, Garak reaches into the pocket of his tunic. Julian watches him curiously. He isn't aware of any additional item used in this ritual, but perhaps he's missed something.
Julian's breath catches in his throat when Garak holds out a ring. It's yellow gold, with a small blue gem embedded in the band. Julian stares. Cardassians, he knows, do not wear engagement rings. In fact, they do not typically advertise their relationship status in any way that would be so immediately obvious to an observer; it's considered a bit gauche, and more than a little reckless. (He once told Garak about the human practice of public proposals. He's never seen him more shocked and scandalised.) Garak smiles wryly.
“You've been kind enough to indulge me and share in my customs,” he says. “I would like to return the favour. May I?”
Julian mutely holds out his hand and watches as Garak slips the ring onto his finger. It's a perfect fit, of course. Julian is certain he's never given Garak his ring size—Julian, in fact, does not even know his ring size—but he supposes nothing is beyond a former Obsidian Order agent. He didn't expect to care about something as trivial as an engagement ring, and he gave up on the idea entirely when he learned that Cardassians have no such tradition, but actually seeing the ring on his finger now… He blinks away tears.
“It's beautiful, Elim,” he says hoarsely. “Thank you.”
Garak lifts Julian's hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to it.
“Anything for you, my dear,” he says fondly.
Julian nods at the knife on the table. “Go ahead, while you have my hand.”
Garak smiles. He shifts his hand so that he's gripping Julian's wrist from beneath, holding his arm steady. He picks up the knife with his free hand and makes a single careful cut across the back of Julian's wrist—high enough to be easily concealed by the long sleeves Cardassians favour, but low enough that it can be revealed if the bearer so desires. It stings a bit, of course, but Julian finds himself more moved by the intimacy of the gesture and the care with which Garak touches him than bothered by the pain.
Once Garak is finished, he hands the knife over to Julian and holds out his own hand, palm down. Julian takes it. He is as meticulous in making an incision across Garak's wrist as he's ever been during surgery, determined to give his fiancé the neatest betrothal scar Cardassia has ever seen. With his other hand, Garak produces another ring from his pockets and hands it over. Julian puts it on for him. The gold contrasts beautifully with his grey skin, and Julian can't hold back a pleased smile at the sight.
“I'm going to get my medkit,” Julian says. Before Garak can protest, he fixes him with a stern look. “Yes, Elim, I know. I'll let them heal naturally, and they'll scar just fine, but you are going to let me disinfect these wounds or I am not marrying you.”
This will be the third scar Julian has deliberately left on his body, the first two being the thin crescent-moon scars under his pectorals. There's a continuity to it that he finds pleasing—a running theme of Julian getting closer to the life he wants, and the person he wants to be.
Garak scoffs. “There's no need to be quite so dramatic, my dear,” he says, but he pulls his hand back and lets Julian get up.
“Oh, Julian, it's about time! Congratulations!”
Julian grins at the screen.
“Thanks, Keiko. It hasn't really felt like the right time until now, you know? I mean, not that I haven't wanted to, and I'm sure Garak has as well, but with the rebuilding and everything, and our living situation… It just felt kind of frivolous.”
Keiko gives him a stern look.
“Making a commitment to someone you love is never frivolous. But I guess I see your point. I'm sure your honeymoon will be more pleasant in a real house.” She narrows her eyes at him. “Why are you calling me? Why not Miles?”
Julian chuckles self-consciously.
“I thought he might take it better coming from you.”
Keiko scowls and leans in closer to the camera, pointing a finger menacingly at him.
“Julian Subatoi Bashir, if my husband says a single unkind thing about the fact that you and Garak are getting married, I will personally harvest my deadliest plants and poison him to death.” Her gaze softens, and she shakes her head. “But he's not going to. I know he can be stubborn, and I know he said some stupid things when you first got together, but… he loves you, Julian. He wants you to be happy. And he'd have to be an even bigger idiot than he is not to see that Garak makes you happy.”
Julian ducks his head, smiling.
“Yeah,” he says. “You're right. As usual. I'm just nervous, I suppose.”
Keiko is quiet for a moment.
“Has Miles ever told you that I was going to leave him at the altar?”
Julian's head whips back up, and he stares at her.
“You were?”
She laughs.
“Oh, I was terrified! I didn't know what would happen to my career, or how I'd handle it if he was assigned to a ship where I couldn't do my research and I had to stay behind, and I was upset that my parents couldn't be there, and I wondered if I was really prepared to make that kind of commitment, and I started panicking about the idea of raising children on a starship… I was a mess. I didn't even tell him myself, I made Data do it!” She sighs, smiling at him. “My point is… it's okay to be nervous. About the wedding itself, or about how other people might react. But don't get too wrapped up in that feeling. Remember why you're doing this. You love each other. There's nothing more important than that.”
Julian reflects, as Garak makes him come for the third time that evening, that he is very, very glad Cardassians don't feel the need to postpone sex until after marriage. He pulls Garak into his arms and scatters kisses over his face, making him chuckle.
“If I'd known how insatiable it would make you, I would have proposed to you in the replimat the day we met,” Garak teases him. Julian snorts.
“If you'd set a cup of tea and a knife down in front of me and told me your biggest secret the first time we met, I'd have gone to Sisko in a panic and told him you were trying to recruit me into some sort of Cardassian spy cult. I would not have let you ravish me.”
“I think you underestimate my charms, my dear.” Garak bites at an especially sensitive spot on his neck, and Julian yelps and half-heartedly bats him away.
“Stop it,” he grumbles. “I have surgery tomorrow; I need to get some actual rest. I don't think my patients or my colleagues will be sympathetic if I turn up sleep-deprived because I was up all night fucking my Cardassian fiancé.” He pauses, turning his head to look Garak in the eyes. A shy, amazed smile spreads across his face. “My fiancé,” he repeats quietly. “You're my fiancé.”
“Oh, am I? I hadn't noticed.” Garak's tone is dry, but his expression is hopelessly fond. Julian kisses him.
“We're getting married,” he says, giddy and awed. “I'm going to be your husband.”
“I thought that perfectly engineered brain of yours was supposed to be quick on the uptake?” Garak says, earning himself a very light kick in the shin.
“Shut up,” Julian says, with absolutely no heat. “I'm just happy.”
Garak hums and nuzzles against his hair, breathing him in.
“I know, my dear,” he says softly. “So am I.”
Julian yawns. “You know, I should still have my Starfleet uniform somewhere… I was thinking I'd just wear that to the wedding.”
Garak pulls back a bit and stares at him in mute horror. Julian's poker face holds for a few seconds before he breaks and starts cackling; Garak makes a frustrated noise.
“Horrible, cruel man,” he mutters. “I don't know why I'm marrying you.”
Julian grins.
“Because you love me,” he says. “And I'm going to look very handsome in Cardassian wedding clothes.”
Garak sighs, trying and failing to hold back a smile.
“For once, my dear, I can't argue with you.”