Chapter Text
Julian could only be glad, later, that the conversation happened over dinner and kanar in his quarters, and not in the Replimat.
He and Garak had begun seeing each other for dinner shortly after the incident with the wire, and by now had a well-established routine. Each of them replicated whatever they wanted to eat, and they discussed their current novel until it was time for dessert. Then they moved from the table to the sofa, and the conversation tended to turn to other things (often station gossip). Julian had suggested it primarily because he was worried about how Garak would fare on the station without the chemical assistance of the wire and had wanted to keep an eye on him, while also providing him with more social stimulation. But it had become, if he were honest with himself, the highlight of his week.
It had been his turn to choose the novel, and perhaps out of revenge for Garak’s long and opaque previous selection, he had chosen Tess of the D’Urbervilles. It was not a favorite of his; he found the ending frustratingly unjust, even if he understood that the work was rooted in its time. But they could still have a rousing debate about it, and Julian could be amused in the face of Garak’s stubbornly Cardassian interpretations.
It was possible, however, that he hadn’t quite thought through what those interpretations might be, in light of the novel’s themes.
“It was heavily censored at the time of its publication,” Julian said, while he carried both of their replicated dinner selections over to the table. “It was rare to see rape portrayed with relative clarity in a novel. But Hardy was trying to demonstrate how harmful the sexual double standards of the time were to women.”
Garak, in the midst of pouring them both glasses of kanar, straightened up with a frown. “What rape?”
Julian blinked. “Oh, I’m sorry –– I thought you said you’d gotten to the end of the first section? I didn’t mean to spoil it for you.”
“I did get to the end of the first section. I just didn’t see anything in the text that might be construed as rape.”
Julian hesitated, feeling as though ground beneath his feet that he’d thought was solid was suddenly decidedly not. “It is described somewhat obliquely,” he acknowledged, wondering if the translation was bad. “And there has been... some debate over the years about whether it was rape or seduction, but to me, it has always been very obvious. Tess refuses d’Urberville many times, and she’s unconscious, maybe even drugged, during the act itself.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that he forced himself on her against her will.”
“So then you agree that it was rape,” Julian said, relieved if also rather confused.
“Not at all.” Garak finished pouring the kanar and took his seat. “She was of a lower class than he, wasn’t she? So it was not rape –– at least not by my cultural standards,” he added. “I recognize that the Federation may have different views on the matter.”
“Wait, what?” Julian couldn’t believe his ears. “Do you mean that under Cardassian law, it’s impossible for a member of a lower class to be raped by someone of a higher class?”
“‘Impossible’ is a strong word. But to my knowledge, no such case has ever gone to trial.”
“But...” Julian didn’t know what to say. He sat down heavily in the second chair. “Garak. You can’t be serious. Is this... are you lying to me again? Trying to wind me up?”
“I assure you, I am not. Cardassia, as you may be aware, has a strict social hierarchy.”
“Well, yes, I knew that, but it doesn’t mean that crimes against members of a lower class aren’t crimes. You’re all still people, aren’t you? Isn’t there a baseline level of dignity that everyone is allowed? Of, of bodily autonomy?”
“Of equality, you mean?” Garak said, cutting into his zabu steak. Julian hadn’t touched his chicken tikka masala. His appetite had deserted him. “No, my dear doctor. I’m afraid that Cardassia does not presume a baseline level of equality among its citizens.”
Julian swallowed. “So on Cardassia, what happens between Tess and d’Urberville would be considered...”
“Unfortunate. But he would not be prosecuted for it, nor would it have any real social repercussions for him, unless it resulted in a pregnancy.”
“I see. And if it did?”
Garak turned one palm upward in a Cardassian-style shrug. “Bastards have no status on Cardassia, the same as orphans. Abortion is illegal everywhere in the Union, as I’m sure you’re aware, because no one has the right to deprive the state of a citizen. But I understand that there are methods of dealing with such problems... discreetly.”
“I see,” Julian said again, a little numbly.
“Of course, some men might take more extreme steps to ensure that their moment of weakness was never discovered.”
It took Julian’s brain a few seconds to connect the dots. Once he did, his level of horror, already high, ratcheted up even further. “You can’t mean –– Garak! You don’t mean that they would murder the woman they raped because she was pregnant?”
Garak inclined his head slightly.
“But that’s –– you can’t possibly think that’s right, do you?”
Garak gave a quiet huff. “Doctor, it’s not about what I think is right. It’s about what is. Many men have weaknesses they cannot afford.”
“But that’s horrible!”
“And is what happens in the novel so much better?” Garak replied. “D’Urberville evades accountability, while the child dies and Tess is considered damaged goods ever after.”
“But that was Hardy’s point!” Julian cried. “It was wrong, what happened to Tess. It wasn’t her fault, but society punished her for it. And you’re talking about the same thing, only worse, just because someone happens to be born into a lower social status. And you don’t seem to have a problem with it.” He stood up abruptly and stalked across the room to the viewing window. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared out at the vast field of stars.
There was a brief silence at the table, then a quiet clink as Garak set his cutlery down. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Doctor.”
Julian didn’t bother to protest that he wasn’t upset. He took a few deep breaths to try and collect himself. When he was able to speak again, he said, “I don’t understand. How do you manage if you’re a member of the lower class, knowing that at any time, someone could hurt you like that, and no one would care?”
There was a quiet sigh. “You are very careful,” Garak said softly. “You guard yourself closely against those who would harm you. And you either do your best to achieve a higher status, or you cultivate relationships with those who can protect you. A good employer will ensure that no harm comes to anyone in his household from outsiders.”
“From outsiders,” Julian repeated. He returned to the table, rubbing the back of his neck, and sat down. He picked up his glass of kanar and took a generous sip.
“It was not my intention to shock you,” Garak said after a moment. “I know you are familiar with the admittedly often shameful behavior of my people on Bajor during the occupation.”
“Yes, but...” Julian grimaced. “As terrible as it is, I don’t think that’s so unusual during a military occupation. Humanity has its own histories of violent colonial expansion, and sexual violence is common to all of them. But there’s something about hearing that it’s the norm on Cardassia and that society simply allows it that... caught me off guard, to say the least.”
“I wouldn’t say that it’s the norm,” Garak replied. “Or that it’s approved of, exactly. There are many among the ruling classes who would never do such a thing.”
“Well, that’s... something.” Julian reached for his water, trying to sort through his thoughts. “I... I have to ask, and I know that you –– I know you lie all the time, Garak, just for the sake of it, but I’m asking you not to lie to me about this. Have you ever –– were you –– I mean ––”
Garak took pity on him. “Have I ever had a weakness I couldn’t afford?”
Julian nodded, scarcely daring to breathe.
“No.”
Julian relaxed, For some reason, he believed Garak. “Good. I’m... that’s good.”
“In fact, because I feel rather badly about how this evening has gone, I will offer you one further truth.” Garak took a sip of kanar, as though bracing himself. “I was not born into a social class that would have allowed me such weaknesses, even were I inclined toward them, which I am not.”
Julian took a few seconds to parse this. “You were born into the lower class?”
“The service class, specifically. My father was the gardener and my mother the housekeeper for a powerful man on Cardassia Prime. He protected us, for the most part.”
For the most part. Julian wondered how much was elided by those four words. “And you found a way into a higher status, eventually.”
“Yes. And back down again,” Garak added wryly.
Julian snorted softly. He looked off into the middle distance, letting the stars visible through the viewport blur into nothing. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to grow up like that. You must have been frightened a lot.”
“Is a fish frightened of water? It was simply how things were. Granted, there was much about the relationships between the adults around me that I didn’t understand until I was grown.”
“Still. I can only imagine how it must have affected you. I can’t imagine how anyone in such an environment would ever develop healthy ideas about relationships or –– or sex.”
“Well, I’m not sure anyone does,” Garak said, “at least not by the standards of the Federation. Which are not, I feel I must remind you, the only standards in the universe.”
Julian winced at the slightly reproachful note in Garak’s voice. “I know, but... it seems to me that being raised like that would make it hard to trust anyone enough to… to get close to them. Physically or emotionally.” It made Garak’s habit of lying for no reason suddenly make a lot more sense –– and the fact that he’d been truthful with Julian all the more meaningful.
“Well, people do seem to manage it,” Garak said, “or so I’ve observed. Though it has always seemed to me like rather too much risk for the reward.”
Julian blinked. “But you’ve had sex, haven’t you?”
“Of course. Please, my dear doctor, do not do me the disservice of casting me in your mind as the poor, pitiable Tess.”
“No, no, of course not. But have you…” Julian hesitated, aware that they were getting very personal, far more so than was usual for them, and also treading dangerously close to things they had never talked about.
“Go ahead and ask your question, as long as you understand that I might not answer.”
Julian hesitated again, before finally deciding to take the plunge. This evening had already gone about as far off the rails as it could have, after all. “You’ve had good sex, haven’t you?”
Garak, to his credit, did not spit-take his kanar. He did raise his ridges. “Define ‘good sex’, if you please, Doctor.”
“Well... sex where you trust the other person, and they make you feel good.”
“I was unaware that sex required trust to be satisfying.”
“I suppose not,” Julian conceded. “I’ve certainly had sex with people I didn’t know well. But there was always a certain baseline level of trust. And the best sex has always been with someone I knew, and trusted, and for whom I felt more than physical attraction.”
“Hmm.”
Garak said nothing more. After a moment, Julian leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry, it was terribly rude of me to even ask ––”
“No.”
Julian blinked. “No... you haven’t ever had...”
“No, by that definition I have not had ‘good sex’.”
“But by some other definition, surely you have,” Julian said, frowning.
Garak seemed to consider this at some length. Julian sipped his kanar and tried not to fidget too much –– or worse, ramble.
“No,” Garak finally said again. “To be honest, I find the entire business of sex to be tedious.”
“Tedious?”
“Yes. For me, it has always been an act of great self-discipline.”
Julian didn’t know what to say to that. He was starting to wonder if Garak had ever had fully consensual sex, but he suspected that if he asked him that directly, Garak would take them on a tangent about culturally contingent definitions of consent, and Julian would never receive his answer. It sounded, at the very least, as though he had mostly had sex he’d neither wanted nor enjoyed very much.
“We can return to the novel,” Garak said, once the silence had stretched rather too long. “For the sake of our discussion, I’m willing to concede that ––”
“Would you like to try it?” Julian blurted out. He immediately felt all the blood in his neck and shoulders rush toward his face.
Garak’s face froze. “Try what?”
Well, in for a penny and all that. Julian tried to project confidence and ease, even if he wasn’t feeling either internally. “Sex that isn’t about power and self-discipline, but about, well, affection and pleasure. Intimacy.”
Garak’s head tilted to one side. Julian thought he might have actually succeeded in surprising him for once. “Are you offering?”
“I suppose I am. I know that you don’t trust anyone easily, and after tonight I understand more about why. But I hope, after everything that happened recently, that you trust me at least a little. I hope you know that I would never deliberately hurt you.”
“Yes, I... do know that,” Garak said, and then fell silent. “I would not want to lose your friendship, Doctor,” he said at last. “I understand that mixing sex and friendship can be complicated.”
“It can be. But I’m pretty experienced with it.” Granted, none of his previous friends-with-benefits partners had been someone he was half in love with already. This probably wasn’t a good idea, at all, if Julian were honest, but he wasn’t going to back down now.
“What if I simply don’t like it?” Garak asked. “It is possible that my lack of enjoyment was not about the circumstances but the act itself.”
“Then we’ll stop,” Julian said simply. “Some people don’t like sex, and that’s fine. I won’t be offended.” He paused. “You needn’t answer me right now. The offer stands. Take some time to think about it.”
“Thank you,” Garak said, sounding relieved. “Now, if we might return our attention to the novel –– I appreciated the annotations in the edition you gave me, but I had a few questions about gender roles at the time of the novel’s publication...”
The rest of the evening was pleasant, if a little stilted. Garak was a little less snarky than usual, which Julian hoped was because he was distracted, thinking about Julian’s offer, and not because he had decided to hold him at arm’s length from now on. They split a piece of cherry pie for dessert while discussing Quark’s most recent scheme for which Odo had fined him (vole fights, which was, in Julian’s opinion, vile on multiple levels.)
By then it was nearly 2400, and Julian’s early morning was starting to catch up with him, so they called it a night. Julian walked him to the door. “Lunch on Tuesday?” he suggested lightly. “We can discuss the next part of Tess.”
“Lunch on Tuesday would be fine. And, ah.” Garak turned to face him. “With regard to what you asked me earlier... yes.”
“Yes?” Julian repeated.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not entirely,” Garak admitted, “but as long as you can promise me that if I call things off, you won’t be offended or hold it against me, then I would like to... try it. With you.”
“I promise,” Julian said, solemnly. He took a step forward.
Garak stiffened. “We’re not... I didn’t think we would do it right now.”
“No, no,” Julian assured him. “It’s pretty late, and I’m tired. And I think we should ease into it, let ourselves get a bit more comfortable with each other. But I thought I might kiss you, if that’s something that Cardassians do.”
“We do,” Garak said. “It’s one of a few ways we show affection.”
“Anshwar, right?” Julian said. “When you touch your foreheads together?”
“Yes,” Garak said. “And we also hold hands in particular ways. Our fingers, palms, and wrists are quite sensitive in comparison to most other species.”
“I look forward to exploring that more in the near future,” Julian said with a small smile. “But for now, I thought...” He brought his hands up to cup Garak’s face between them. It was the first time he’d ever touched him skin-to-skin outside a clinical setting. Garak’s scales were firm but not hard, and quite cool to the touch. Julian had raised the temperature in his quarters for the evening, but he knew that the maximum temperature setting was lower than Garak preferred everywhere except his own quarters.
A sauna might make a good date in the holosuites, Julian thought. Or a hot spring. Somewhere Garak could be comfortable.
Garak’s eyes were the most lovely shade of blue. Julian had noticed it before, but now he let himself look his fill for a long, anticipatory moment, before he leaned in and kissed him.
His first pass was a simple brush of lips. Garak was tense, and Julian didn’t want to push him too far, too fast. He pulled back a little, waiting, and was gratified when Garak leaned in and kissed him, lingering longer. Julian parted his lips slightly but didn’t try to initiate anything deeper. He rubbed his thumbs along Garak’s mandibular ridges, and felt Garak’s hands come to rest on his lower back.
He did gently sweep his tongue along Garak’s lower lip before he pulled away. He didn’t go far, though. Instead he lowered his arms and pulled Garak into a hug.
“What are you... oh,” Garak said, as Julian squeezed him. “Is this... sexual for humans?”
“No, not sexual. Affectionate. Intimate.” Julian sighed and turned his head, gently kissing Garak’s temple before letting him go. “That’s the entire point of this, isn’t it? It’s no good if we just jump into bed together.”
“Doctor, I already trust you more than I have ever trusted anyone I’ve slept with,” Garak said. “This all seems unnecessary.”
“You trust me as a doctor, and I hope as a friend. But if you’re going to let go of some of that self-discipline you talked about enough to really enjoy yourself, I think we need to go further than that. I won’t be upset or offended if you decide you want to stop, but I’d like to give us the best chance of success.”
“Hmm,” Garak said. “Well, I suppose you are the expert. I’ll defer to your judgment.”
“Thank you.” Julian stepped back and hit the button to open the door. “Can I come by your shop tomorrow at lunchtime? I’ll pick up food for us both on my way.”
“Oh –– yes, that’s fine. But why my shop?”
Julian winked at him. “I thought I might finally let you give me that fitting you’ve been after me about since we met.”
“Ah,” Garak said, and now he, too, was smiling. “That will be my genuine pleasure, Doctor. Until then, I wish you a good night.”
“You, too, Garak. Sleep well.”
The door sighed shut behind Garak. Julian turned around and leaned against it. His knees felt a little weak from the kiss, which had been every bit as exquisite as he’d always thought it would be. He couldn’t help but think that this might have been a mistake after all.
Well, he was committed now. No way out but through.