Work Text:
"I simply wouldn't , Doctor" Garak said, smoothing his hands down the mannequin's front. "Front pleats may be Starfleet regulation, but they will never find their way into my wardrobe."
"Well!" Julian chuckled. "Sorry, I had no idea you were so opinionated on pleats."
"Of course you wouldn't," Garak sniffed. "Seam ripper, please ."
Julian handed over the requested tool. "I don't think I've ever paid attention to the pleats on my pants. Or anyone else's, for that matter."
"That's hardly surprising." Garak rolled his eyes theatrically.
"Alright, alright! But I don't see why it matters in your case. You're not exactly wearing crop tops."
Garak's head cocked slightly in evident confusion. "I beg your pardon?"
"I mean, that tunic goes down to your thighs. You could be wearing anything under there." Julian cleared his throat, considered biting his tongue. "You could even skip the pants entirely."
Garak froze for a moment, then resumed his ministrations with the fabric. His eyes remained fixed in front of him, but Julian saw a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Certainly not in these conditions."
Julian took a half-step closer. "The temperature, you mean."
"Among other things. Suppose a Cardassian freighter passed through and one of them saw me dressed like a hu’verxt -"
Now it was Julian's turn to cock his head. "Sorry, a what ? The UT didn't catch that one."
"I'm sure you can derive it from context." Garak shot him a look that sent a little thrill down his spine. "Some of us still have a sense of propriety untainted by loose Federaji morals."
Julian laughed. "You can't expect me to believe Cardassians still dress like this back at home - where it's warm and comfortable."
"As you may be aware, Doctor, my people do not regulate our body temperatures the same way that many of you mammalians do. There's little danger in wearing thickly layered clothing in a hot environment."
"Well, that's a relief. But surely there's no practical reason to wear them either."
"Fashion is often impractical. As it happens, if you were ever so fortunate as to visit Cardassia, you would find that modest, layered garments made from heavily starched fabrics are quite common."
"Fascinating! But these hu’verxt you mentioned -" Julian wasn't quite willing to get it go.
Garak's eyes widened. "Oh, come now Doctor - you can't expect me to speak of such matters to an outsider."
" You brought it up!"
"I fear you imagine something much more scandalous than the truth. A hu’verxt is merely a young, beautiful companion, perhaps even a spouse, whose attractiveness is considered a point of pride. Tastefully displaying their assets could be one way of elevating one's status in society."
"Oh, like a trophy spouse!"
"That sounds terribly distasteful," Garak tutted.
"Unlike your thing, which is of course very civilized and proper."
"Naturally."
"So if you were a hu’verxt -"
Garak's expression turned almost imperceptibly colder. "Don't tease, Doctor."
" You brought it up !" Julian exclaimed again, helplessly.
A sharp sigh. "It was a joke, Doctor. Because I obviously am not such a person, and never could be."
Knowing a pain point when he felt one, Julian smiled gently. "I'm sorry if I said something offensive, Garak. You'll have to forgive my ignorance."
"I suppose you can't be expected to understand Cardassian beauty standards, with your unrefined human sensibilities." Garak sounded slightly mollified.
"Well, you're right. I only know what I find attractive." He was treading on dangerous ground, but it was still up to his friend to take the bait. Julian held his breath.
Silence. Garak wasn't facing him anymore, having circled the mannequin to fiddle with the back side of the garment. Julian tried and failed to read something in the way he held his shoulders, in the tilt of his head, the curve of his back.
" Dr. Bashir to the infirmary ."
Julian almost jumped out of his skin, then cursed silently as he slapped his combadge. "Roger that. Garak -"
A dismissive wave. "Duty calls, Doctor."
"Right. Well. Lunch tomorrow?"
"I'm afraid I have an appointment that can't be moved."
Julian felt a sick stab of anxiety in his chest. "Garak, I really didn't mean -"
"But perhaps dinner?" An innocent raise of the eyeridges.
" Dinner ?" Julian closed his mouth with an effort, his jaw having ever so slightly hinged open in surprise.
"If you're free, that is."
"I - well, yes. Of course." Julian cleared his throat. "Of course, of course. Dinner. Dinner. Uh, where did you - uh, do you think - Kaga's? Or Quark's if it's not too loud? Or -"
"My quarters, I think," Garak said. "If you're amenable."
"Yes, yes, of course!" Julian hurried towards the shop doors, aware that he had made absolutely no meaningful movement to return to the infirmary. "I'm, uh - of course. Just let me know what time."
***
Julian was determined not to get his hopes up. After all, Garak could very much be toying with him still - just like all his sly little comments and innuendos, always just skirting the edge of an undeniable proposition. It was good fun, certainly it was, but after nearly four years of this, one could begin to run out of patience.
It occurred to him in his darker moments that perhaps Garak had simply found him less alluring the more he got to know him. But now -
But now !
Dinner. In Garak's quarters! (He'd sent a message confirming the place and time, no further details.) Julian managed not to obsess until his duty shift was done, after which he raced back to his own quarters to shower and change into civvies. Nice ones, but nothing too outrageous. Just a tasteful bit of collarbone, because he knew on Cardassia it would be a bit of a scandal. The colors were more muted than he preferred, charcoal and midnight blue, but he was reasonably sure Garak would approve.
After what felt like ages, he finally reached Garak's door and pushed the buzzer. A moment later, the doors slid open, clearly from some remote command.
The first thing Julian noticed was the temperature. It was warm, warmer than he expected, and it felt like the humidifier function on the environmentals must be cranked as high as it would go without hacking it. Or maybe he had hacked it.
The smell was intoxicating. Something like tropical flowers and spice, and he wondered if it was the food or some kind of Cardassian incense. He took in a deep breath, and then let his eyes be drawn to the obvious centerpiece.
There, on the sofa in the middle of his quarters, sat Garak. His hair was sleek, scales shining, and he wore the same mustard tunic as earlier in the day.
And nothing else.
His legs were crossed carefully at the knee, a fresh expanse of scutes and scales for Julian's eyes to wander.
Well, he wasn't only wearing the tunic. Those smart little brown Chelsea boots were still in play, to Julian's mild disappointment.
But it was very mild. He dragged his eyes back up to Garak's face with an effort.
"I see you've taken my advice," he said, his voice sounding rough in his own ears. He cleared his throat a little. "I'm glad - it suits you."
Garak blinked slowly. "Do you really think so, Doctor?"
"Oh, absolutely. Is this for me?" He indicated the second drink on the coffee table, but hoped Garak understood what he really meant.
"It is. I don't believe you've ever had black kanar."
"Not with you, certainly." Julian smiled at Garak's slight narrowing of the eyes. "I'm kidding - who else would I be drinking kanar with?"
"I'm sure I don't know, Doctor." As Julian took his seat, Garak very carefully uncrossed his legs and planted his foot on the ground, his thighs parted just wide enough that Julian could have almost seen between his legs, if he made a real effort to look. It felt like an invitation, but he still only risked a glance before Garak crossed the other leg on top again.
Julian took a sip of kanar to help the dryness in his throat. It wasn't too unpleasant - a bit syrupy, but a nice fermented flavor. "Did you have something specific in mind for dinner?"
"I had some thoughts," Garak said. "But I'm flexible."
Oh, this was intolerable. Julian got to his feet and closed the distance between them in a few long strides. "I have some thoughts as well," he said. "May I share them?"
Garak's eyes glinted dark and hungry in the low light. "I have never known you to hesitate before, my dear."
"Well - it may not be to Cardassian tastes."
"As I said, I am -"
"Flexible, yes." Julian sat down beside him, very close. "You said. How flexible, I wonder?"
"I'm at your disposal, Doctor. Feel free to experiment."
Utterly out of patience, Julian reached out and cupped the ridged jaw in his hand. He could feel the pounding of Garak's pulse even through the thick scutes of his neck. He was opening his mouth to say something, but Garak had evidently grown tired of waiting too, and suddenly leaned in to kiss him.
Whoever said Cardassians didn't kiss was even more of a liar than Garak. The tailor very much knew this territory - his tongue was nimble and a bit rough, and he tasted slightly of cinnamon and wood smoke. Julian met him in kind, hoping he tasted as good to Garak as Garak did to him. It was likely impossible, with how keen their senses supposedly were, but he could only hope.
There was elation, relief, and of course a good deal of lust, and his blood thrummed with the need to touch and taste even more. Finally, they broke apart to breathe.
"A promising appetizer," Garak exhaled, his ridges flushed blue as anything.
"Hmm," Julian replied. "I agree, but I think I need another taste."
"By all means, Doctor," Garak murmured, leaning in close. "By all means."