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“Have you decided what you’re wearing, Julian?”
Julian swallowed a sigh. Talking to his parents made him into a sullen teenager. He tried to do it as infrequently as possible. But the wedding day was creeping up and Amsha Bashir was insistent that they needed to discuss plans and details. Julian supposed he should be glad his father had retreated to his garden after a few tense minutes of catching up, because he found wedding talk boring. The trouble was, so did Julian.
“I don’t know, Mother. I suppose my dress uniform. Or maybe Elim has something in mind.”
“Jules. Julian. It’s your own wedding. You should at least take an interest.”
“Elim’s got everything under control. Anyway, I’d be lost planning a Cardassian wedding.”
“You’re letting Elim do everything. Do you think that’s fair?”
The very subject of their conversation walked into the room, out of visual range of Julian’s PADD, and raised his eye ridges, the universal signal for ‘do you want me to say hi to your mother or are we pretending I’m out of the house?’ Julian’s gaze flickered up momentarily and, below Amsha’s field of vision, he shook his finger no. That would just extend the whole ordeal. But the subtle communications between a former elite intelligence agent and a trained Starfleet officer were easily intercepted by a woman eager to get to know her son’s fiancé better.
“Is that you, Elim? How are you?”
Still out of sight, Garak half-shrugged, half tilted his head in the Cardassian gesture that meant ‘I guess I’m talking to your mother now, dear’. Julian set his mouth as neutrally as he could.
“I’m well, Amsha. And you and Richard?” Garak joined Julian on the sofa.
“We’re fine, aside from missing you boys a lot.” Amsha’s smile was replaced with a concerned expression as Garak came into view on her screen. “Elim, you’re so thin. Have you been eating?”
“Mother, he’s fine.” Garak was in fact trimmer than he had the last time Amsha had seen him, on their visit to Earth, but not alarmingly so. It was just that day-to-day life on Cardassia was more strenuous, and the food less rich and abundant, than on Earth.
“I assure you, Amsha, I’m in no danger of starving.” That was not entirely true for anyone on the planet, not yet, as Amsha was no doubt aware, but there was no point being too blunt about it.
“But Elim, you look so pale. Are you sure he’s well, Julian?”
“Mother, he’s a Cardassian. That’s his natural colouring. He’s perfectly healthy.”
“Well, if you say so.” Amsha looked doubtful.
“I’m a doctor.”
“Yes, I suppose you’d know. He’s just so thin.”
Julian tried and failed to suppress an eyeroll-sigh combination that would have earned a sulky fourteen-year-old ten out of ten if freestyle eyerolling were an Olympic sport. Garak squeezed his leg supportively.
“Mother, Elim and I eat very well. We’ve got more fresh vegetables from the garden than we know what to do with.”
“A garden!” Amsha was delighted. “You’ll have to show your father.” What she didn’t say was ‘thank goodness you two will have something neutral to talk about when we’re there’.
Julian was sorry to disillusion her. Genuinely.
“Actually it’s Elim’s garden. I’m hardly ever in it.”
“That’s a pity. You used to love helping your father in the garden.” That was true. He had, until he’d learned about his enhancements as a teenager and rejected anything to do with either of his parents.
“I‘ll be happy to show you and Richard the garden. The kana fruit will be ripening when you’re here.” Garak wore his polite soon-to-be-son-in-law persona well. Julian allowed himself to indulge in a sulk while his fiancé and his mother talked gardening. As the conversation turned to wedding planning, the sulk lifted a little and his mind wandered to work problems. Two undernourished mothers of neo-natal twins, a nasty water-born parasite plaguing some parts of the city still, the blessed fact that the next Federation relief drop was supposed to include some decent pain meds, finally.
“Are you, Julian?”
“Hmmmm? Sorry, Elim, what did you say?”
“Amsha tells me you’re planning to wear your dress uniform for the wedding?”
“Oh. Yes. Well, unless you want me to wear something else.”
“It’s really up to you, dear.” Garak’s smile said ‘I have an opinion, but we’ll discuss this later’.
***
After another excruciating bout of wedding talk, Garak excused himself to check on the dinner.
“You’re still relying on cooking?” It seemed Amsha wasn’t completely over the fear they weren’t getting enough to eat.
“Mostly. We don’t have a replicator yet. It’s fine, Mother. Elim’s a fantastic cook.”
“Oh, how wonderful. Is he teaching you Cardassian cooking?”
“Er, no, not really. I’m not very good in the kitchen, so I just leave it to him.”
Amsha did not look pleased.
“Julian Subatoi Bashir, do you mean to tell me that you are letting that poor man plan your entire wedding and make the clothes, while at the same time he grows and prepares all the food for both of you? And I assume he’s still working at the Council? No wonder he looks so peaky. We didn’t have a replicator that year on Tibulus IV when you were little, and your father and I cooked everything. It’s work, Julian. I certainly hope you do something useful around the house, because your father and I raised you better than that.”
Julian had rarely seen his mother so angry. And the worst thing was, he couldn’t even respond with righteous indignation, because he had the sickening, growing realisation that she was absolutely right.
Still, he couldn’t be that bad, could he?
“I do the dishes and...make the bed.” Usually. Sometimes. “I sonic and replicate my own clothes! And I...do other things. I help!”
“You help, Julian? Isn’t it your home too?”
“I...yes.”
“Do you clean?”
“Uh, I do the dishes,” he repeated. No, he did not clean. He wasn’t actually sure how the house stayed clean. On the station, at Starfleet Academy, and in most of their homes growing up there had been cleaner bots, but he was fairly certain there weren’t enough resources for those in most of the houses on Cardassia these days. Weren’t there a mop and broom in the corner of the kitchen, now that he thought about it?
“Mmmhmm. So Elim does the cleaning too. And what do you do while he’s cleaning and cooking and tending the garden?”
The answer was a lot of things; comming with Miles or Ezri, or more recently his mother, reading, studying Kardasi.
Julian chose the answer that would sound best to his mother. Hopefully.
“I usually catch up on reading. For work, Mother!”
Amsha Bashir frowned.
“And why don’t you do some of the chores? I’m sure Elim has reading to catch up on too.”
Elim certainly did have reading to catch up on too. He was always drowning in reports. Julian flushed and avoided his mother’s gaze.
“I’m not very good at them, so he told me not to worry about it...” He trailed off lamely, fully aware that his mother was becoming more and more unimpressed with each word that crossed his lips.
***
Garak was stirring a pot when Julian entered the kitchen.
“Julian, if you really want to wear your dress uniform for the ceremony far be it for me to stop you, but do you really think...what are you doing?”
Julian had donned an apron and was tying the strings.
“My mother thinks you’re an angel.”
“I’m sorry? Your mother thinks I’m an intermediary to the gods?” Garak gave Julian his full attention, a suspicious look on his face.
“No, I mean she thinks you’re a saint...never mind, that’s almost the same thing,” Julian concluded as Garak allowed mild bafflement to cross his features.
“I fear the Universal Translator is failing us, dear.”
“It certainly is. What I mean is, my mother has just torn into me for letting you do all the housework. She thinks you’re absolutely fantastic and I’m useless and she doesn’t understand how you put up with me.”
“Is that so?” Garak looked amused. “I never expected to have the approval of your mother.”
“Well, you have it. In spades. She thinks you’re completely above reproach. And I think my parents might actually apologise to you next time they talk to you.”
“Whatever for, dear? They’ve done nothing to me.”
“Her exact words were ‘he must think you were raised by wolves’.”
“Ah. And is a wolf a particularly undomestic animal?”
“I guess so. It’s not a compliment, in any case. But seriously, Elim, I’ve been terrible. I had no idea how much you were doing around the house. Can’t I do something now?”
“I don’t know, Julian. You do remember what happened last time you attempted to cook. We can’t afford to waste food.”
“Come on, Elim. One mistake and I’m banned from the kitchen? I’m a surgeon. Surely I can be trusted to chop a graniss.”
They both glanced at the round purple vegetable on the kitchen counter.
“My dear, that’s an emgraniss. It’s completely different.”
“Oh. Well, what do I do with it?”
Garak sighed. He made no move to step away from the pot.
“Do you really want me to show you? I rather thought you weren’t interested.”
“Of course I do! And it’s not a matter of me being interested or not. You’ve been shouldering all the work. It’s not fair.”
“Hmmmm. I should have known. This Federation notion of fairness underscores everything your people do. It really must be exhausting.”
“It...does it? I suppose maybe it does. Is that so terrible? We can share the burden. No one likes housework, do they?”
“I like some things that could be considered ‘housework’, yes.”
“Oh.” Julian recalled that Captain Sisko had been extremely fond of cooking, and that even Worf enjoyed baking now and then. “Well, which things don’t you like? Tell me and I’ll do those.”
“Julian, dear, really, I’m perfectly content with our current arrangement.”
“I’m sorry, Elim, but I just don’t believe you. How about cleaning the floor? You can’t enjoy that, surely!”
“I enjoy having a clean floor.”
Julian grunted in annoyance.
“Elim, don’t try to tell me that’s the same thing. I can clean the floors from now on.”
“Julian, you’ve never cleaned a floor in your life, have you?”
“Well, no, but it can’t be that difficult.” Julian shrugged. “Can’t you show me next time you do it?”
Garak set his mouth in a serious line.
“Cleanliness is extremely important in the Cardassian home. It’s a kind of ritual. If you’re going to take over the job, you have to do it correctly.”
“I’m very good at following instructions. I think I can manage to do the floors properly.”
“Perhaps. We’ll see how you do. I’d planned to do them tomorrow.”
Julian beamed at his victory.
“Great! Now show me what to do with this emgraniss.”
“Just a moment, Julian. This needs a little more stirring.”
“I can do it.”
“Thank you, dear, but I think I’d better. There’s a technique.”
***
The bed was made, with neat tucks, just as he’d been shown. Every surface in the place positively sparkled. A pleasing smell wafted through from the kitchen, where the table had been laid. Not a PADD was out of place, no forgotten sock littered the floor, and except for the clean outfit he planned to change into and the trousers and top he’d been cleaning in all day, all of Julian’s clothes were folded and put away neatly. The only thing he hadn’t dared touch were Garak’s clothes, because no one dared touch Garak’s clothes, but Garak was so fastidious about them that they didn’t need Julian’s attention anyway.
The swish from the door in the kitchen announced Garak’s return home. Damn, he was at least twenty minutes earlier than anticipated.
“Take off your shoes,” Julian called from the bedroom. He started to pull off the top he was wearing. He’d been planning to have a shower before he changed into his nice clothes, but that would have to wait. Being seen in these dusty, dirty rags would completely undermine the domestic god effect he’d been working at all day.
A beat.
“Yes, dear.” Garak’s voice was indulgently incredulous. Of course it was. It had been a ridiculous thing to say, truly. One never wore one’s street shoes in the house on Cardassia.
Julian didn’t have time to be irked by Garak’s patronising tone. Quickly he kicked off his house slippers and slipped out of his cleaning trousers. He hadn’t even fastened the clasp on the new pair when Garak appeared in the bedroom doorway.
“Good evening, Julian. I’ve removed my shoes, as you requested.” He was wearing the same house slippers Julian had seen him in every day since he’d come to Cardassia. And a smirk.
“Very funny, Elim. Why are you early? You’ve spoiled the surprise.”
“I’ve just come home to a spotless house, dinner seems to be made, and there’s an attractive half-naked man in my bedroom.” Garak’s gaze ran appreciatively over the smooth human chest as he took the three steps necessary to bring him to Julian’s side. “I don’t know what better surprise could possibly have been awaiting me.”
Garak held his hand up so that they could entwine their fingers in the Cardassian greeting, then pulled Julian in for a kiss. His other hand drifted down to the loose waistband of Julian’s trousers.
“Elim!” Julian, protesting but laughing, pulled away from the kiss. “I’m filthy.”
“You certainly are, dear, when you want to be. Is that the kind of evening you had planned?” Both of Garak’s hands had found their way inside Julian’s trousers and rested momentarily on his hips.
Julian rolled his eyes.
“No, I mean I’ve been cleaning all day and I haven’t had a shower. Anyway, dinner’s nearly ready. Maybe we can do this later?”
“Whatever you’d prefer,” said Garak, but he made no move to take his hands away. “Can I do anything?”
“I’ve got everything under control. I just...Elim, why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what? Can’t I lust after my future bondmate?”
“That’s not lust. You look like the cat who’s swallowed the canary.”
“Pardon? Swallowed the what? I assure you, Julian, I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch. I’ll certainly be able to enjoy your dinner.”
“What’s going on, Elim? You’ve got a secret. And you’re very smug about it.”
“Really, Julian, smug? How could I be anything but delighted at your transformation? And after only a few basic lessons. It’s very impressive.” Garak leaned in to nibble Julian’s ear.
Julian attempted to turn his head to look Garak full in the eyes, but it was quite impossible.
“You didn’t even want me to do any housework. I had to beg you to teach me how to mop the floor.”
“You’re a natural and I was completely wrong,” Garak said, pausing his attention to Julian’s earlobe. “Can’t the dinner wait, Julian? I’m finding it quite impossible to resist you today.” Garak tugged beseechingly at the waistband of Julian’s briefs.
“Stop it, Elim. I know what you’re doing.”
“I should hope so,” muttered Garak, but he stopped.
“You manipulated me.” Indignantly, Julian pulled away. “No, don’t even open your mouth. You pretended you didn’t think I’d be good at taking care of the house because you know how I hate being told I can’t do something, you made me think I’d won because I got you to show me how to clean and cook, and now that I’m on to you you’re trying to seduce me in the hopes I’ll be distracted. The only thing I can’t figure out is how you got my mother on your side.” He folded his arms and glared. “Why didn’t you just tell me you needed help?”
Garak’s expression was cool. Which was a dangerous sign, in high-emotion situations.
“Well, Julian, I admit I assumed when you first moved in that a fully grown adult would be aware that some labour is required in the running of a household, so I didn’t think I needed to say anything. After a while it became a game to see how long it would take you to notice.”
“Oh.” Julian’s anger cooled a little. That was something he should be ashamed of, wasn’t it? “Still, the manipulation was completely unacceptable.” Completely. He was a grown adult, as Garak had just pointed out.
Garak gave him a sceptical raise of the eye ridge. You think so, do you?
“When you didn’t notice after half a year, I began to plan the best way to make you aware. I assure you, your mother’s outburst was happenstance, and I simply took advantage of the situation.”
“But after she’d brought up the subject, you needn’t have continued the game! Couldn’t you have used the opportunity to tell me then?”
“I could have, Julian, but do you think you’d have taken ownership of the situation in such a way,” Garak gestured around the room, which was nearly immaculate except for Julian’s dirty clothes balled up on the floor, “if I hadn’t…given you an incentive to work towards?”
Julian still hadn’t uncrossed his arms. He felt his anger, which had begun to ebb a little, surge back up.
“I might have. How do you know what I would have done? You didn’t give me a chance.”
“Julian, I know.” Garak’s expression warmed a fraction. “You would have tried, in order to please me, and out of a sense of guilt, and you probably would have learned to do a passable job at most things. But it still would have been my responsibility to give you instructions and to tell you what needed to be done. To get you truly invested in the process I had to challenge you to prove yourself. That is something you’re fundamentally unable to resist.”
“I absolutely can resist a challenge!”
“Can you? Please do. I’d be delighted to be proven wrong.” The coldness was gone from Garak now. He was all amused affection.
“I...” Julian felt his anger drain away at the utter absurdity of the situation. “Elim, I can’t believe I’m...you’re a lot of work, Elim Garak.”
“I could say the same of you, Julian Bashir.”
“I’m not thrilled you brought my mother into this, you know.”
“It was unintentional, Julian. But with the happy result that I am now your mother’s golden man.”
“Golden boy, Elim. You’re her golden boy.” Julian had long suspected Garak’s ‘mistakes’ in Federation Standard were further artifice, meant to beguile and distract him, but they were so charming that he didn’t dare call them out for fear Garak would stop making them.
“Ah, of course.”
“And I’m not certain I’m thrilled about that, either.”
“I’m sure I can do something to horrify her if you’d prefer we have a more prickly relationship.”
“I’ll think about it.” Julian stepped forward to embrace Garak. “I’m sorry I was an idiot, Elim. I’ll be better. And I’ll be more involved in planning the wedding, too.”
“I’m pleased to hear that, Julian. Have you given any more thought as to what you’ll wear?”
“Well, I looked up some holos of men’s wedding attire today and I have a few ideas, but honestly, I’m overwhelmed. I think I need your help.”
“We can look at them together. I’m sure we can agree on something appropriate.” He pulled Julian closer. “It’s difficult to make you look unattractive. I’m not sure how Starfleet manages with that dress uniform. Decades of research and development, I suppose.”
“Flatterer,” said Julian wryly. “No wonder I fell for you.”
“You really are lovely tonight, though, my dear,” said Garak, running a finger down Julian’s chest. “I hope you’re aware that my earlier seduction attempt was one hundred percent genuine.”
“Sure it was,” snorted Julian. “You were completely not trying to distract me.”
“Well, perhaps ten percent was a distraction technique.” Garak was focused on Julian’s left nipple. He pinched and Julian yelped. “I assure you this seduction attempt is based purely on the fact that I want your body.”
“I believe you, Elim.” Julian gasped as Garak continued to fiddle with his nipple. “But I meant it about the dinner. It’s probably overdone already. If I don’t take it out now it’ll burn.”
“You would never have been this conscientious about cooking before,” sighed Garak.
“Yes, well, hoisted on your own petard,” Julian laughed. “Come on, let’s go eat.”
“Yes, Julian.”
Reluctantly, Garak released him. Julian did up his trousers and, after pulling on his clean shirt, took Garak’s hand to lead him into the kitchen.
“Julian,” began Garak, as they left the bedroom.
“Yes?”
“May I have you for dessert?”