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How long ago did I start this story? Well, let's
just note that, until five minutes ago, the
"Copyright" bit up there had "1995" written
after it. Yikes! Pre-Ziyal, pre-Leeta (thank the
gods). The happier times, when we fans of G/B
could safely turn on our show and watch the
lovesick pair give each other chocolates.

Alas.

I always did mean to post this story, and I
offer it now, finally finished, to all of you
who heave a collective sigh of disgust (or
perhaps just *heave*) when a scene on the show
opens on Leeta's cleavage. I'm not sure when I
intended it to take place, except that I allude
to that "Herman's Head" episode, "Distant
Voices," so let's put it right after that. It's
probably PG-13, only because our society is
homophobic in general. Just some wholesome m/m
romance involving food.

Paramount owns Deep Space Nine and the
characters; I just think it's fun to sit around
and write about them... Unlike Quark's cousin,
the one who owns the moon, I'm not in this for
profit.

=====

Julian Bashir almost had begun to get used to
the tsking sounds that always came from his
lunch companion, but today, for some reason, the
chiding noise set his nerves on edge. He stopped
his fork in midair and faced the source of the
annoying sound.

"Will you please stop that, Garak?" he moaned,
letting the exasperation he felt take hold of
his face as he glared into the eyes of the
tailor. "What is it that I'm doing wrong now?"
The Cardassian sitting across from Julian in the
Replimat merely smiled at the outburst.
Perfectly timed. It was so easy to get under the
young human's skin--a pleasant diversion in an
otherwise tedious day. He purposefully filled
his face with disdain as he slowly looked down
at the plate in front of Bashir and then spoke
precisely.

"One would think, Doctor Bashir, that after
eating lunch together regularly for so long, you
might have learned to follow my example and slow
down." Garak's eyes moved back up Julian's lean
torso to meet his exasperated expression. "We've
been here for fifteen minutes and you're
nearly done. Now, I know you enjoy talking to
me; do you eat so fast so you can have a captive
audience?" The innocent look in his face was
perfectly ... practiced.

Julian glanced at the plate on the other side of
the table and sighed. It was still more than
half full. He knew it bothered Garak that he ate
so quickly--it was a sign of rudeness in his
friend's culture.

"I'm sorry, Garak, but really--I've been trying
to eat more slowly..." He shrugged and began to
toy with the few bites of spinach that were left
on his plate. Julian prided himself on being
sensitive to other cultures' habits, and he did
hate it that he continually bothered his friend
by bolting down his food. Old habits died hard,
he supposed.

The tailor continued to observe the young man
across the table, drinking in the charming
little pout that had spread over Julian's face.
So like a shamed child. Garak silently gave
thanks for having found such a compelling friend
in the middle of this wretched station, and
decided to give Bashir just a few more moments
of penance before putting him at ease.
The moments passed much more quickly for Garak
than they did for Julian. Finally Garak
brightened. "I have an idea." He watched as the
sparks returned to the brown eyes facing him.
"Why don't I give you a lesson... in how to
eat."

Julian froze just long enough for Garak to raise
his eyebrows.

"I know how to eat, Garak--my mother saw to that
when I was about a year old." He was smiling,
though, and Garak could see the idea wasn't an
uninteresting one.

"Well, your mother must have been in a terrible
hurry, hmmm? Why don't you come to my
quarters for dinner--tomorrow night--and I'll
show you how to slow down..."

A small smile turned up the corners of the
doctor's mouth, and he leaned back in his chair.
"And how do you propose to do that?"

"Ah, Doctor," the Cardassian replied, searching
for, finding, and misquoting an appropriate
Human proverb. "If this old dog can't teach you
a new trick, then what good am I?"

***

Julian Bashir left the Replimat with an odd
feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had, of
course, ended up talking Garak's ear off for the
remainder of their break--certainly one of the
better rewards of always finishing his meal so
quickly. But a few times he had looked away from
the table to recognize a friend or former
patient across the room, and when he had turned
back, the blue eyes of his lunch companion and
old friend had been observing him very intently.
It was a little disquieting, but intriguing as
well. Julian wondered what the tailor had in
mind for his lesson.

***

Garak was lighting the last of the candles in
his quarters when the computer announced the
arrival of his guest.

Julian stepped into the dark room and surveyed
the surroundings, nodding favorably. It was dark
and sparsely furnished, but warm. He had
anticipated the increased temperature that
Cardassians favored, and had worn a
short-sleeved ivory linen shirt and deep brown
trousers that drew attention to rather than
detracted from his olive-toned skin. The subtle
illumination from the candles was a welcome
break from the bright lighting in the infirmary.
He took Garak's proffered hands as a welcome,
and admired the silver tunic that his host was
wearing for the occasion.

"Thank you for coming, Julian. You know, it may
be hard to believe, but you're my first real
dinner guest..."

Julian actually did believe it; the exile,
though having grown on a few other residents,
had hardly befriended any of them. The doctor
was often unself-consciously grateful that Garak
had reached out for him. No one should be
totally alone.

Garak gestured the Human to move further into
the room, and as he did so, Julian got a better
look at the contents of the bowls and plates
that covered every available flat surface.
The nearest bowl, a small one made of a dark
hardwood, contained a half-dozen cherry
tomatoes. Julian raised his eyebrow at the Earth
food, and then inspected several other wood
and metal bowls in the vicinity. Each contained
one type of food, and almost all of them were
from Earth.

"Garak," Julian admonished cheerfully,
impermanent lines appearing above his dark eyes.

"You've really gone overboard. You can't expect
we're going to eat all this, can you?" He
reached into the tomato-filled bowl, but was
rebuffed by a quick poke and an echo of the
previous day's chastising look.

"Doctor, practice some self-control." Garak
shrugged. "As for eating all of this, we can
always try, can't we?"

"I'll never know what to expect from you, will
I?" Julian sighed. "Well, I suppose this is one
of the more pleasant surprises you've subjected
me to. Where do we start?"

"You may have a seat--over there is fine," the
tailor answered, waving a hand in the direction
of a large cushion in the middle of the floor.

"You needn't worry about a thing, Doctor. I'll
take care of it," he insisted as he watched the
Human sit cross-legged on the gold cushion.

"So, is there a significance to sitting on the
floor while eating, Garak? A Cardassian ritual,
perhaps?"

"Yes, Doctor Bashir, a very important Cardassian
ritual," he stared down at the man seriously.

"The Sacred Rite of Having Used Up All Other
Available Space..." He smiled at the chuckle
that echoed through the room.

Julian realized as Garak sat a short distance
from him that there were both rhyme and
reason to the seeming jumble of bowls and plates
around the room. From the Cardassian's spot
on his cushion, he could reach everything with
only a small amount of effort. Garak's innate
ability to make carefully planned situations
seem careless was fascinating to Julian; he
wondered if that skill was what made Garak such
an excellent tailor.

"Wine, Julian?" A glass was placed in his hand,
and Julian smiled to hear his given name being
used. Garak only used it when he felt
particularly secure.

"No kanaar tonight?" he asked, the humor warming
his voice.

"Cabernet Sauvignon, actually. Kanaar is best
after a meal, Julian. Haven't I taught you that
yet?"

"Maybe I wouldn't stop talking," Bashir griped,
only half-joking. "That seems to be what we're
here to fix..." Garak turned away from tending
to one of the bowls to observe the outburst, and
Julian blushed.

"A trifle sensitive, my dear young doctor?"
Garak reached for the bowl with the cherry
tomatoes. "I only seek to educate you--I thought
you Humans prided yourself on your desire to
learn new things..."

"I'm sorry. I suppose I don't take criticism
very well." Julian looked around and realized
that from his vantage point he couldn't see the
contents of any of the other bowls. "But I'm
here now, so teach me, however you propose to do
that."

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Close your eyes," Garak repeated.

"Why?" The Human felt an immediate desire to
obey the request, but years of Star Fleet
Medical had taught him to ask all the necessary
questions up front.

"Doctor, I'm your friend, not your patient.
Trust me..."

Julian kept his eyes riveted to Garak for any
outward indication of his intentions. That was,
of course, futile--no former Obsidian Order
operative was going to betray his thoughts with
a facial expression.

"I thought you applauded me for not trusting
you, like when I was injured and had that dream
about you ... You said I was learning..."

Garak harrumphed impatiently. "Well, unlearn it
for one evening, Julian, and close your eyes.
How do you expect to eat all this food if we
don't get started?" He still cradled the bowl of
tomatoes in his lap, and along with the silver
outfit wore a studiously bland expression.

"All right, Garak, I'll close my eyes," he said
quietly, doing just so for a moment, but then
peeking out between long lashes. "However, if
you're planning on poisoning me, do me the
courtesy of letting my mother know. She'll need
time to find a nice black dress..."

"Don't worry. I can make her one." Garak watched
the dark eyes close again. It appeared as
though the young man were meditating... or
preparing for death. Either way, a lovely sight.

"Open your mouth," the Cardassian instructed
quietly, and after swallowing once, Julian did.
He felt the small tomato being placed on his
tongue, and the radiating heat of the hand that
placed it there. As soon as the heat trailed
away, he bisected the round fruit with his
teeth. He felt the seeds explode out of the
center, and the slick juice course over his
tongue. The tart taste overwhelmed his already
heightened senses, and he felt his stomach
respond to the tantalizing promise of food.

Garak saw the slow smile spread over Julian's
face, and marvelled at his easy responsiveness.
"Now, isn't that enjoyable, my dear doctor?" The
smile turned down a notch in intensity, and the
Cardassian prepared himself for the necessary
rebuttal.

"Certainly, it was a lovely tomato, Garak. Is
that what you wanted to share with me?" Despite
the nonchalant tone, however, Julian didn't open
his eyes. He sipped from his wine glass.

"Oh, not entirely, Julian. Do keep your eyes
closed. It will allow you to fully appreciate
the taste and texture of the foods you're
sampling..." Garak gently returned the bowl of
cherry tomatoes to their place on the table, and
retrieved another bowl. He watched the certainty
melt deliciously from the tanned Human face.
"That was the last taste you'll be
expecting--from now on you'll have to be
surprised. Open your mouth."

The corner of Julian's mouth turned up again and
he shook his head in mild exasperation, but he
complied. He realized what a strange sensation
it was to have unexpected things put in his
mouth. He felt a small object being placed on
his tongue, about the same size as the tomato,
but with an irregular shape and rough texture.
He bit into it less assuredly this time, and
discovered a lightly sweet taste, another fruit,
but firm in the middle. The tanginess of it was
fleeting.

"A strawberry. Garak, you're making this so
easy," he scoffed.

"Keep your eyes closed, Doctor. It's not a quiz,
after all. I just want you to fully experience
the food you are eating, not to pass it by like
an unpleasant chore.  What does the strawberry
taste like?"

Julian paused, and a frown crossed his brow.
"It's a strawberry, Garak. It's sweet and fruity
and ... strawberry-tasting. It's ..."

"*Strawberry*-tasting? Oh, my dear ... doctor,"
Garak said with exaggerated impatience. "You
can do better than that."

Julian shook his head slowly, but almost at once
understanding brushed his expression.

"It's ... it tastes like summertime. On Earth.
That's when all the organically grown berries
are available. My aunt in Surrey used to make
strawberry shortcakes when I would visit her."
He snorted.

"That's an odd response to a pleasant memory,
Julian." Garak's voice broke through the
recollection.

"It's just that my obnoxious cousin Shefali
always used to whack me in the head and take the
best strawberries off the top of my cake before
I knew--literally--what hit me. She did it two
summers in a row, before I outgrew her and was
able to steal back all the ones she had taken
from me..." Julian smiled, not aware that the
expression was mirrored on his host.

Garak observed him for a moment, and then asked,
"So, what do the strawberries taste like,
Julian?"

Another snort. "Victory." He paused for a
moment. "Can I have another?" The Cardassian
complied.

After cleansing his palate with the wine he
still held, the next bowl was produced with less
formality, and Julian began to find that the
wait between the tastes had its own particular
flavor: Anticipation. This time a warm, savory
taste exploded from his tongue.  Garak waited
expectantly.

"Mushroom, marinated in ... what? Garlic? It has
to be garlic. Garak, since when do you know
how to fix foods like this?" Still squeezing his
eyes shut, he reached out for the departing hand
and grasped it lightly, enjoying the sensation
of rough skin against his own smooth flesh.
"Have you been doing research in your spare
time?" He felt the hand clutch back.

The voice that answered him was quieter. "What
does the mushroom taste like, Julian?" A soft
breath. "And don't tell me that it tastes
mushroomy." The hand evaded Bashir's grasp.

Julian's lips tightened. Perhaps he had gone a
bit too far. "Oh ... brown," he said finally.
"It tastes brown. I think mushrooms are just
about the brownest-tasting food ever."

"And..." Garak watched Julian's lips intently.

"What else?"

"The garlic ... tastes like my first year at
Star Fleet Medical. I had this girlfriend who
loved to cook ... " He wrinkled his nose. "She
put garlic in everything. She used to like to
remind me that it's used as an aphro--" He
stopped, and the lips tightened again. A puzzled
frown settled on his face. "She said it had
wonderful curative powers--at least the ancients
said it did."

"And you didn't find that was the case?" Garak
cradled the next bowl in his lap, expertly
reading the hesitation in his friend's
expression.

"I didn't care. It was nice having someone cook
for me." Julian lifted his hands from his
thighs, which were still crossed in front of
him, and leaned back on them, pulling his
midsection into a casual stretch. "It still is.
Can I have another strawberry?" He brightened at
the amused chortle that came from somewhere in
front of him.

"No." Garak leaned forward, observing the
candlelight flicker across the young man's face.
The muscles there had smoothed; Julian was
relaxing under the unusual circumstances. "Are
you glad that I'm cooking for you, Doctor? If
you'd call it cooking, anyway..."

"Absolutely. This is far more enjoyable than the
Replimat, Garak."

"Mmmm..." came the noncommittal reply.

"Garak?"

"Yes?"

"Are you not eating anything?"

Garak bit the inside of his lower lip, gauged
the level of curiosity lining Julian's forehead,
and decided to tell the truth. "Actually, I ate
earlier."

"Garak! Why didn't you tell me?" Julian pulled
up from leaning on his arms and hunched forward
aggressively, but to the Cardassian's delight he
still didn't open his eyes.

"Doctor, I wanted to be here for you. This is
your education, after all. Think of me as ... as
your teacher. I ate earlier so I wouldn't be
distracted." He found the obedience in the
closed lids utterly appealing, and noted with
amusement that he was becoming more and more
distracted as the evening progressed. He cleared
his throat. "Now, do you wish to continue or
not?"

Julian leaned back again, satisfied for the
time, but the curiosity exuding from him didn't
wane. He didn't quite return to the relaxed
position he had taken before. "Yes, I wish to
continue. I'm still hungry," he whined.

"That's something soon to be taken care of,"
replied the tailor. "Open your mouth."
Julian smelled lemon before he felt what was
being placed on his tongue next. The smooth,
comforting caress of butter, and a short, thin
stalk with a pointed head. His tongue encircled
the tip, and he felt the spiralling nubs
pressing into him. He bit down into the tender
reed, and felt fine threads separating across
his teeth. The echo of butter and lemon
penetrated his senses as an involuntary purr
rang through his throat.

The vibrations of the pleasured sound forced a
shudder through Garak, who leaned forward to
take a closer look at the Human's reaction.

"Asparagus, Doctor," he explained unnecessarily.
"I take it that you're fond of it."

For the first time the slow smile that appeared
on the young man's face offered a trace of
sensuality. "I'm quite fond of asparagus,
Garak."

"What does it make you think of?"

"It makes me think of what I need to do to
convince you to give me the whole plate of it.
Right now." Julian reached out blindly for the
plate that Garak held off to his side. "Don't
tease me."

"Don't tease *you*?" the tailor repeated archly.
"With that wanton sound that just escaped your
throat, I'm forced to wonder whether *you're*
teasing me..." Garak realized too late that his
voice didn't carry the correct equation of
casualness and humor. It sounded more like a
growl.

After a moment, he pulled the plate of thin
green vegetables back in front of him, placing
it in Julian's questing hands. "Here you go,
Doctor." He watched as a look that he couldn't
hope to be disappointment settled onto Julian's
features.

"Garak...," the younger man breathed. "I'm
really enjoying this tremendously. Don't stop
yet."  He handed the plate back over to his
friend, and pulled the cushion and himself
closer.

After considering it for a minute, Garak gave
in, and for a long while hand-fed asparagus tips
to Julian, who accepted them enthusiastically.
They spoke of rare foods, flavors, and memories,
and Julian stopped thinking about opening his
eyes...

While in his unseeing state, he reached a hand
out to touch Garak's knee while making a
particularly vociferous point in his
conversation, and later circled his wrist while
another piece of butter-and-lemon-coated
asparagus was placed on his tongue. He smiled at
the light touch of warm fingertips on his cheek.
Finally, the last piece of asparagus was
devoured, and unbeknownst to Julian, Garak
mirrored the frown of disappointment Julian had
on his own face.

"Well, now--it's definitely worth remembering
that asparagus has such a strong effect on you,
Doctor," the tailor sighed. "It's so odd that
you Humans speed through eating as if it were
unpleasant but have such strong responses to
food." He lifted a piece of breadstick and
placed it between Julian's lips.

After finishing the breadstick, Julian had had
enough. He reached out to draw Garak's hand away
from the plate, and into his lap.
"Why don't you tell me what this lesson was
really all about, Garak ... ," Julian suggested
mildly, lightly stroking the back of the scaled
hand with his fingertips. "You didn't choose
those foods randomly, did you?"

Garak noted with pleasure that the young man's
eyes were still closed, and he leaned in slowly.
"Why Julian, what do you mean?"

"Asparagus ... garlic ... strawberries ...
They've all been considered aphrodisiacs on
Earth since ancient times." He chuckled. "I
mean, just the shape of the asparagus should
tell you something."

"Julian ... " Garak could see warm color rising
to the younger man's face.

"What?"

"There's one more thing I want you to taste.
Don't open your eyes just yet."

Julian sighed deeply, a tension-relieving technique
that almost always worked, and would have worked this
time if it hadn't been interrupted by a kiss.

"Garak ... " Julian began a few minutes later.

"Yes, Julian."

"Did you truly believe it would take aphrodisiacs to
make me want this?"

A long silence ensued. Plates and bowls were pushed
aside. And this time Julian found Garak's mouth.

"Julian?" Garak finally responded.

"Yes."

"What do I taste like?"

Julian punctuated his response with kisses.
"Strawberries. Mushrooms. Asparagus. ... And perhaps
just a hint of love."

And, perhaps not surprisingly, Julian didn't open his
eyes until the next morning.

THE END
(and I miss you, Garak and Julian Bashir!)
 

BIBLIOGRAPHY
Warburton, Diana. A-Z of Aprodisia. London: Quartet
Books, 1986.