Chapter Text
Garak waited in the replimat, quietly sipping his tea as he mentally counted 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . .
Odo silently took the seat opposite Garak. The tailor raised his mug away from his mouth, lifting it slightly toward Odo in a wordless greeting. “Punctual as always, constable. If you weren’t always so timely with everyone people may begin to gossip about us.”
Odo studied the outstretched mug for a beat before shifting himself an identical one. “Would you prefer I arrive late so you might have enough time to come up with a better greeting?” Odo’s mouth pulled out at its sides to indicate the jovial nature of his remark. Elim nearly snorted. Odo was certainly on point today.
“Hardly. I value how dependable you are. It’s a quality not found in many these days.” Garak took a bite of what he had replicated for breakfast -- a combination of Terran and Cardassian cuisines. Scones were terribly bland on their own and did not suit his pallet when garnished with butter as Julian had recommended. They tasted much better with a smattering of yamok sauce and accompanying red leaf tea.
Odo sipped his “tea” before concluding, “Ah. He had to reschedule your lunch date again?”
“Obviously.” He took a sip of his own tea before meeting Odo’s knowing face. With a deal of ire to his tone, he elaborated, “It seems germ cultures are better at occupying his enhanced brain. He said that today he would make it ‘for sure’ but one can only hope.” Garak ate up the last of a scone. Julian Subatoi Bashir, also known as the most frustratingly oblivious man Garak had ever tried to court. Some days he entertained himself with the idea of “accidentally” giving Julian the wrong data rod -- the only question was what to plant on said rod. A declaration of love or “diary entry” were obvious choices. However, Elim rather liked to picture Julian’s shocked expression when he found he had been given some erotic manuscript Garak had concocted in his spare time. If anything the doctor would read it in its entirety to at least learn more about Cardassian physiology.
Elim was snapped out of his daydream by Odo plainly asking, “Why don’t you just tell him already?”
Garak stared at Odo for a few seconds. He blinked once, a conscious movement, and arched his eyebrow ridges. Two could play this game. “I could ask the same of you but with a different pronoun, of course.” He unassumingly sipped some more of his tea.
“Hmph. I was under the impression you wanted me to look elsewhere.” Perhaps Garak should not have brought up Kira. Odo’s face was just as stern as always but he could tell the constable was not as well equipped to handle this as he wanted Garak to think. The mug of tea Odo had shifted seemed to be melting slightly of its own accord. Garak felt sorry for Odo and sympathized greatly with him but, for that reason, Odo should have known exactly why he could not “just tell Julian already.”
“I do. You’re a perfectly charming and sweet man who has a lot of love to give. Why waste so much time in misery just waiting for her to come to you? I understand the deep attachment you feel for your first love but there are other people out there who you would love just as strongly if not stronger. You just need to give them a chance. Contrary to classical Terran music, people do not love only once in their lives. I’m sure your friend Ambassador Troi would tell you the same given the number of partners she’s had over the years.” Elim munched on another scone while he waited for Odo to take the bait laid out before him.
Odo took the bait. “Hmphh. Are you going to suggest I become romantically involved with Lwaxana now?” Odo’s face slumped down into a rather heavy-handed scowl that did not quite match his tone.
“No, but I feel you should have given her more of a chance. I’ll grant she was a bit overdramatic but she did love you. And, from what you’ve told me, it seems she understood and accepted you more readily than any other ‘solid’ you’ve ever met. If anything you would have been good for each other. She could help you lighten up a bit and you would keep her grounded.” Garak sipped his tea. They had been on this tangent for a while now. Garak knew Odo would try to loop back to Dr. Bashir sooner rather than later.
“And, Dr. Bashir would be good for you. At the very least, he’d help me keep an eye on you. And, you never answered my original question.” The last sentence was gruff even by Odo’s raspy standards. He was emphasizing Garak should probably give him an answer rather than totally evading the question.
“As you know, that was my intent. But, if you must get some answer out of me,” he sighed, heart heavy with the following words, “there are many reasons I’ve yet to tell him. The paramount one is the same one you have for avoiding this subject with Kira. I don’t want to be rejected, Odo. I have it worse here than you do. Most of the station likes you. They hate me. I’m not to be trusted and I can’t blame them for thinking that way.” I scarcely trust myself. He stared into the bottom of his mug, faintly remembering there was some Terran custom of reading one’s fortune in tea leaves. How quaint. “It does me no favors to be a middle-aged and overweight man trying to court someone so young and vivacious he thought turning 30 was the equivalent of already having one foot in the grave.” Garak downed the dregs of his tea. There was probably a bad fortune in the leaves anyway.
He felt an entirely smooth palm cover the back of his hand. Garak stared up at the owner of this hand. “Tell him anyway. If he rejects you I’ll have lunch with you.”
Garak was treading on unstable ground. Should he have let on at all about his affections and worries? He had not told Odo the worst of it but had revealed enough of himself to warrant paranoia. Could anyone have overheard our conversation? Is there any surveillance equipment around here? If so who is the owner of such equipment? Look into it later, Elim. With worries crowding into the back of his mind he only had enough wit to point out, “I don’t think I’m quite your type, constable."
“You aren’t. I’m sure he’ll return your feelings.” Odo took back his oddly smooth hand and placed it on the side of the mug he had shifted. Odo lowered his voice to point out, "He’s an outcast among the humans. Technically he isn’t even entirely human. He’s the product of his father’s judgment and manipulation.”
Just like you, Elim. It was an evident enough point. A very solid point at that. Julian and Garak were more alike than different when it really came down to it. This washed over Garak as he stared at his empty mug and plate. “I think I should be going soon to open my shop.” He stood and pushed his chair in under the table.
“Of course. I’ll see you the same time tomorrow. I hope to hear how things go at the ‘shop’ then.”
He almost laughed at that. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll know exactly how everything goes without my breathing a word of it to your face.” Garak inclined his head. “Good day, Odo.”
“Good luck, Garak.”
“Quite.” And he left. That was more than enough exposure for one day.