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“A month?” O’Brien gawked, just before tossing a dart into the wall next to the board. He stared at Bashir uncomprehendingly.
“Well,” Bashir muttered, “just over. This was part of the reason I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“I wish you had... You haven’t been coming on to me and I missed it, have you?”
“What?”
“Not that I want you to! Just, you know, so I don’t let down my defences.”
Bashir glared at him, then took aim, letting his three darts land carelessly across the board.
“I cannot actually believe that I am having this conversation.”
“Neither can I!” O’Brien declared, taking his turn again. “If you ask me, I didn't think you were that desperate."
"Funny," Bashir said, furiously, "I don't think anybody did ask you."
“I just mean, it’s not like you couldn’t have had any woman on this station.”
He had no response, so Bashir crossed his arms and scowled.
“Like that Dabo girl,” O’Brien continued, “I mean, at least she’s a girl! And...”
“And what?” Bashir asked through clenched teeth.
Lowering his voice, his face twisted with a look of distaste, O’Brien said:
“Not a Cardassian...”
*
“A Cardassian?”
Jadzia twirled a chair around, straddling it and leaning in close over the table. Bashir sat up straight, already guessing the topic, but trying to calculate the intention of her tone. Not fully understanding, he simply imitated it and threw back:
“Klingons? Ferengi?”
She just shrugged, and ordered a drink from a passing waiter. Bashir didn’t say anything, but followed her every move.
“I’ve noticed,” she continued, nonchalantly, “that same-sex couples are rather rare among humans.”
Bashir drew a steadying breath.
“Maybe you don’t know enough humans,” he said, watching her even as he sipped his drink.
“Oh, I know plenty of humans. I also recall that you tend to have an aversion to age differences.”
“You, of all people, have a problem with this?” Bashir asked, baffled.
“I never said I had a problem,” Jadzia said defensively, “I’m just curious.”
Bashir wasn’t impressed.
“Is there anything else you want to mention?” he snapped.
Jadzia raised an eyebrow
“Garak?”
*
“Garak?!” Kira asked, incredulous.
Bashir put his head in his hands and wondered why he still spent time at Quark’s.
“Is there anyone on this station who doesn’t know every detail of my love life?”
“I mean,” she said as if he hadn’t even spoken, “you can’t trust a word he says! And a Cardassian?”
“Don’t worry, Major,” he assured her sarcastically, “I’ve heard this all before.”
“And more than that...”
“There’s more?”
She smirked as she raised her glass.
“I don't know where the attraction comes from. I mean, it’s not like he has the looks. Not even for a Cardassian...”
*
The following evening Bashir hid himself in a dark corner of the bar. Even without a drink in his hand he felt himself getting mired in contemplation. Although he had tried not to show it, he had been hurt by what his friends had said to him. What was more, he had said most of it, and worse, to Garak himself.
"What'll it be, doctor?" Quark asked, appearing out of nowhere and saving him from his own brooding.
"Anything but a pronouncement on my personal life," he mumbled.
"Word does get around," Quark said.
Bashir eyed him cautiously.
"You're not going to throw in your two slips?" he asked after a moment of silence.
"What?"
"You know, tell me all the reasons why this is such a bad idea."
"Is it?"
"No!" Bashir exclaimed, then lowered his voice as he continued. “I'm happy, why can't anyone else be? I suppose you're going to start with something about me being sick and twisted and perverted.”
“All that matters is that you're happy.”
In surprise, Bashir cast Quark a very blank stare that quickly turned into suspicion.
“Why?” he asked.
“Ferengi Rule of Acquisition Number 113,” Quark quoted: “A happy customer is a paying customer.”
Bashir had to grin at the ridiculousness of it all, and resigned himself to taking what he could get.