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"No! Absolutely not, Vic." Julian Bashir shook his head vigorously. "It's aged very poorly."
"But it's a classic!" Vic Fontaine looked deeply hurt. "Really - I promise if you see our rendition, you'll change your mind."
"I won't," said Julian, looking across the table for support.
"I, for one, would like to hear it." Garak set down his drink and looked up at Vic with a placid smile. "That's two against one, I believe."
Julian groaned. Why had he expected anything different from Elim Garak, Professional Contrarian? "Fine, Vic. If you promise not to perform it for anyone else after this. Get it out of your system."
As Vic returned to the stage, Garak turned to his friend. "You know, Doctor, I don't think I've ever heard you express such a strong opinion about a song ."
Julian shrugged, fiddling with a pretzel on the plate in front of him. "I've got plenty of strong opinions about music. I guess it's just never come up before."
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were having regrets about programming Mr. Fontaine with all of those - what did you call them? 'Traditional winter holiday songs from Earth.'"
"No regrets. I just…perhaps should have vetted my selections more thoroughly. Oh, there he goes."
The band picked up, and Vic and his lovely holographic co-star took the stage. Julian rolled his eyes as they began their banter.
I really can't stay - but baby, it's cold outside!
I've got to go away - but baby, it's cold outside!
Garak's smile was slowly growing. He watched with rapt attention, eyes flicking from one to the other as they sang-talked over each other.
I gotta get home - but baby, you'd freeze out there!
Say, lend me a coat - it's up to your knees out there!
You've really been grand - I thrill when you touch my hand
But don't you see? - How can you do this thing to me?
There's bound to be talk tomorrow - think of my lifelong sorrow
At least there'll be plenty implied - if you caught pneumonia and died
I really can't stay - get over that old doubt
Baby, it's cold - baby, it's cold outside!
"As much as I hate to give undue credit to human artisans," he said, once they'd finally finished, "I have to admit that song is rather charming."
"You just like the fact that they're arguing."
"I admit I do."
"Well, most people interpret the subject of the argument to be more than a little distasteful."
"Really?" Garak's tone was mild and curious, though Julian suspected he knew exactly what the problem was, he decided to act as if the implicit question was a genuine one.
"Look, you've got to understand the history behind it. When the song came out, it was very commonplace on Earth for people - especially women - to find themselves in situations where they wanted to say no, but couldn't -"
"Yes, yes, I understand that ," Garak interrupted, confirming his suspicions. "But surely the song itself - it's intentionally lighthearted. Playful."
"I suppose it is, but for a lot of people that doesn't really take away the sting of what they infer from it."
"Hmm?"
"Well, for instance, 'what's in this drink?' implies - well, something rather sinister."
"Does it?"
"Come on , Garak." Julian was running out of patience. Every once in a while he bumped up against one of those genuine cultural differences that threw into sharp relief exactly how different he and Garak really were, but he knew the tailor wasn't nearly as ignorant to Federation culture as he pretended to be.
"Perhaps she's just after his cocktail recipes."
"I mean, the most charitable interpretation is that the drink is stronger than she expected - which is, in itself, a bit troubling."
"I think you're reaching, Doctor."
"I'm really not."
"One hardly needs to be a master of subtext to understand that they're both playing this game. She gave a list of excuses that had to do with external forces! Her parents, maiden aunt, the neighbors. But she obviously wants to stay."
"That's…one way of reading it," Julian admitted, ripping into a pretzel with thoughtless fingers. "But in Federation culture we've generally arrived at the idea that if someone's giving you a bunch of excuses why they want to leave, it's not your job to talk them out of it. You need to respect what they're saying and not try to read into their motives."
Garak was visibly irritated. "Well then, can you ever hope to communicate your interest in someone without being hopelessly wanton ?"
"I'm sorry ?" Julian was beginning to feel like he'd lost the plot.
"She's already staying and having a drink with him! Alone! In his quarters! I assume her social station in life is such that she's unable to be any more blatant than that."
" Social station?" Julian echoed.
"I know you understand the concept of class, Doctor." Garak primly untucked the napkin from his shirt collar as he spoke, as if to illustrate his point. "We've read the same books."
"Yes, but…I fail to see the relevance." He actually did see the relevance, unfortunately - it was all becoming terribly clear in his mind now as the pieces fell into place, but he wanted to make Garak say it.
"She seems to be propositioning him as blatantly as she is capable of!" came the retort.
"Garak, I need you to give me an example of what you consider to be a blatant proposition."
"I'm sure I wouldn't know," said the tailor airily. "Perhaps one might offer - say, some enjoyable company ."
" Garak ," Julian scolded.
"What?"
"Don't tease."
Garak scowled into his drink.
Oh .
"Yes, all right," Julian said carefully. "But then, suppose, if you end up inviting that person over for a nightcap at your place - not just once, but several times - and they sit there primly talking about literature the whole time and don't respond to your hints and don't act as though they have any interest whatsoever -"
"Many people would say they had already made their interest quite clear enough already, Doctor."
Julian resisted the urge to rake his fingers through his hair.
"Garak, we've talked about this…the way consent works, where I come from, it needs to be enthusiastic , and ongoing ."
"And I believe I've explained to you that while it's a lovely idea, I felt that the need to excessively communicate like that leaves very little room for nuance."
"What if you changed your mind?"
Garak touched his chest, eyes widening. "I'm terribly sorry, Doctor, since when were we discussing me ?"
Julian ground his teeth. "I think we're done here. Vic, I'm sorry, but that's a resounding no. I'm not going to delete it from your program, because I trust you to respect my judgment on this, but I better not hear any complaints."
"Of course not, pally." Vic looked a little hangdog, but it was nothing he wouldn't get over. "Any other requests?"
"No thanks. I'm calling it a night, I think." Julian was keenly aware of Garak following him out of the holosuite and through Quark's onto the promenade, but he didn't turn around until they were free of the bar crowd.
"Shall I walk you to your quarters, Doctor?"
"If you like."
Two could play this game. But deep down inside, Julian knew he was utter shit at playing hard-to-get. He would never last. Thankfully, that didn't seem to be what Garak wanted from him.
Their journey was over almost before it began. He paused at the door, Garak standing so close behind him he could feel the tailor's breath on the back of his neck.
"Would you like to come in for a drink?" he asked, after a moment's hesitation. His role, after all, was apparently that of the confident seducer.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly," Garak purred in his ear.
It was horribly tempting to reply oh, goodnight then! while slipping inside and just slam the door in his face, but Julian's willpower hadn't been augmented alongside the rest of him. He sighed and turned around, so they were almost nose to nose.
"But Garak," he murmured, "you'll freeze out there."
The slow smile that crept across Garak's face was one for the memory bank, certainly.
"Hmm," he said. "Perhaps just one drink."
"Computer, lights to forty percent. Raise the temperature five degrees. I hope whiskey's alright, it's the only thing I have that isn't replicated."
"I suppose it will have to do." Garak sat down primly on the sofa. "You really ought to consider investing in a good bottle of kanar if you plan on entertaining many Cardassians."
"One of these days I'm going to serve you some molasses and fish sauce in a kanar glass and see if you can even tell the difference," Julian groused as he set Garak's glass down on the coffee table. "Cheers, Garak."
"Typical Federation arrogance," said Garak, his eyes glittering in the dim light. "To assume the whole quadrant shares your unsophisticated palate. Cheers, my dear. To cultural misunderstandings."
"To the most frustrating person I've ever had the displeasure of knowing."
Was it his imagination, or were Garak's ridges visibly darker? "Julian, are you trying to start a fight?"
Julian took a sip of his drink. "My dear Mr. Garak. I'm offended at the suggestion."
"If you're going to be so impertinent, perhaps I should take my leave."
"Perhaps you should."
They smiled at each other for a long moment.
Something inside Julian snapped. Feeling very suddenly overcome with six years' worth of repressed longing, he crowded in and kissed Garak soundly, in the human fashion.
Garak, apparently having been given permission by this action to be unflinchingly honest for once in his life, grabbed him by the hips and pulled him into his lap.
"You - you ," he muttered accusingly, when they broke apart for air.
" Me ?" Julian nipped at his lower lip, suckled, then bit down in earnest. He was rewarded with a broken moan. " You . You and your mixed messages. Victorian sensibilities. I tried. Every time we were alone you pushed me away."
"I didn't." Garak pulled open Julian's uniform jacket and pushed it off his shoulders.
"I mean metaphorically. You weren't even coy . You acted cool , detached . Like you'd never sauntered up to me the first time we met and looked around the room like oooh, who left this delicious morsel unattended? Fucking appalling, Elim. I know you people are famously good at gaslighting, but my God what a mindfuck you've been."
He didn't know what reaction he expected - anger, maybe, or a wide-eyed denial. But instead Garak was laughing, guileless, maybe for the first time in his life. "Some things aren't meant for your eyes, Julian."
"And don't tell me it's just because of the implant. You really did intend to eat me alive if I let you."
"Well? What if I did?"
"Go on, then!" Julian heard himself say, huskily. Oh dear .
Garak raised his eyeridges only a bit. "Get on the bed, please. I'm too old to be kneeling on the floor."
"I - okay." Julian was suddenly, painfully aware of his thrumming pulse. "You don't have to, I was just -"
"If you don't shut up ." Garak stood them both up, propelling him across the room and pushing him onto the bed.
In spite of himself, Julian was giggling. " Now suddenly you don't like hearing me talk?"
With a shake of his head, the tailor climbed up after him and silenced Julian with his mouth.
"All in all, I suppose I'm glad Vic insisted on performing that stupid song." Julian rolled over, dislodging the blanket slightly, which earned him a displeased grunt from his companion. "Even if it is awful."
"You really do have the worst possible taste," Garak muttered. "In everything."
"Not everything ," Julian replied, snuggling up next to him with a self-satisfied little purr. "I like you ."
"Some would say -"
"And they would be tragically wrong," Julian cut in firmly, draping his arm across Garak's stomach, loving the way the soft little scales rasped against his arm. "We mustn't make fun of them for it - it's not in the holiday spirit."
"What holiday is that, pray tell?"
"Oh - it's nearly Christmas back on Earth. My family didn't really celebrate, but a lot of the other humans at the Academy did, so I got into the habit while I was there. We'd go and see the lights and gawk at the displays in the luxury shops. That's why I loaded those songs into Vic's program - some of the ensigns were requesting Christmas music."
"How mawkish."
Julian grinned. "I'm sure all the Cardassian holidays are strictly about remembering one's duty to the state."
"But of course."
"Some people would say that's sentimental in its own way."
"You continue to be infuriating even in the postcoital glow, don't you?"
"You wouldn't have me any other way."
"I suppose I wouldn't," Garak muttered, winding his arm around Julian's shoulders and pulling him in tighter.
For tonight, at least - and for as long as Julian had a say in the matter - he wouldn't be out in the cold.