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Being solid inflicts a multitude of indignities, but Odo can stoically put up with things like "headaches" and "defecation" - at least they're supposed to be inconvenient. At least they're the things he always disdained the solids for having to experience. No, what is more infuriating is the series of unexpected and offputting pleasures that his new solid body offers him: not just food, but merely the scent of food can distract his body and bring him desire, memory, enjoyment; stretching out his limbs, even the paltry distance of an inch or so, makes his joints pop and crack in ways he finds he likes; and physical exertion, surprisingly, can be its own kind of delight as his body understands use and fatigue for the first time.
Even defecating, sometimes, is enjoyable, which leaves him startled and unsteady with his uniform around his ankles in his bathroom one Sixthday morning.
It goes on and on; he gets used to one sensation only to be ambushed by another. The logical solution, he decides, is to experience all the sensations he can in a safe environment, where no one will witness his . . . reactions. Whatever they may be.
Quark's eyebrows go up when he rents the holosuite, but Odo glares back at him - a process, now, of muscles expanding and contracting rather than liquid flowing beneath the surface - and Quark doesn't say a word. Odo lets out a satisfied "heh" as he walks towards the holosuite entrance. Some things, at least, remain the same.
He lasts about two minutes with the massage therapist program before pulling his uniform awkwardly back on - his arm gets stuck in the inside-out armhole, he hates clothing - and leaving. If Quark has something to say about the short duration of his stay, Odo's moving too fast to hear it.
Odo tries again a few days later - this time, with a Klingon sauna program - and needs to leave the moment his skin starts to sweat. He tries again: night swimming in a moonlit lake. And again: acupuncture. He never stays longer than five minutes.
His latest attempt is just lying still among warm soft furs, and after a minute or two he starts to find himself at the edge of his tolerance: the sensation of the little hairs against his bare skin is too much, too good, too . . . everywhere. Why does he even have this much skin, and all of it so sensitive? How can anyone tolerate such an organ? Before he can launch himself to his feet, though, he hears a cough at the holosuite entrance. He starts up, embarrassed to be caught in just his underthings, then sees that it's Quark. He scowls.
"What are you doing, interrupting my privacy," he yells. Quark shrugs.
"You're usually out by now. Figured I'd come see what was driving you away from these perfectly lovely holosuite programs." He glances around the environment, the soft furs and pillows and fabrics of all textures. "I programmed this one myself, in fact. Though usually it's used by two or more people, and served with a bottle of something alcoholic."
Odo grimaces and reaches for his uniform, attempting to pull it all on at once. Quark saunters in and crouches down next to him.
"You're trying to do things like we do, aren't you? Like solids?"
Odo looks up, alarmed that he could be so transparent. Of course he should've known that Quark would look at the holosuite logs, would pore over them for some weakness . . .
"Research into the way your bodies work is only reasonable," Odo replies.
"Our bodies," Quark corrects absently. "And you're doing it wrong."
"I beg your pardon."
"You're doing it wrong. Trust me on this one, hedonism is an ancient Ferengi custom. Well, for some Ferengi, anyway. Most Ferengi just toil their entire lives in the hope of experiencing it. But it's definitely what the Federation might call a cultural value."
"And I suppose you have some ancient Ferengi wisdom to impart to me on how to best experience hedonism, hmmm?" Odo finds himself relaxing against the furs on the ground. In the rhythms of this, of being angry with Quark, suspicious of Quark, he's not as bothered by the wealth of sensations assaulting his skin.
"I do, as a matter of fact," Quark replies, getting a little defensive. This dance of theirs is so old, Odo could do it in his sleep - his real, discomfiting, tantalizing, solid sleep - but it feels good to perform it, nevertheless. A pleasure he recognizes from his old life.
"Well, I'm all ears," Odo says, spreading his arms wide. He drops his uniform out of his hands and leaves it on the ground. He couldn't have made quite so sarcastic a gesture while still holding on to it.
Quark coughs and grins. "Someone should really tell Bajor and the Federation what that idiom means on Ferenginar," he says. At Odo's increasingly impatient look, he holds up his hands. "You have to let go. Be willing to give up control. Enjoy the feelings as they come. Just relax."
"That advice, Quark, is worse than useless," Odo says. He wonders if he should've dropped his uniform after all. "I was trying to relax."
"Well, don't try so hard," Quark grins. "Come on, come on, lie down, willya?" He gestures at the furs. Odo sighs.
"And leave my soft underbelly unprotected?" he asks, archly. This makes Quark laugh, which makes Odo's face move - muscles contracting, expanding, the whole process involuntary - into a tiny reluctant smile.
"Fine, fine," he huffs, and takes off his jacket, shirt, and undershirt until he's stripped to the waist. Odo's had Quark in his jail cell more times than he can count, but he doesn't think he's ever seen this much of his skin. Quark lies down on the furs like it's nothing, spreads his arms out, and closes his eyes.
"See?" he says. "Nothing to it."
Odo huffs out a disbelieving laugh. "For you, maybe," he allows, but lies back down anyway. His shoulder and Quark's shoulder touch, and it's yet another new and intolerable and interesting sensation: his skin against the skin of another humanoid. Odd that it should feel so different than touching someone's fingers or shaking their hand.
"Now, the key to hedonism is understanding that you deserve every moment of it," Quark intones. "You're productive and therefore deserve bliss. You've earned huge third-quarter profits on your most daring investments. You're rolling in venture capital."
"I believe it's mink, actually," Odo says, and Quark rolls his eyes.
"Whatever. The point is, this is just your due. It's what you want, and you should have what you want, because you worked for it and others didn't."
"Federation socialism would have something to say to that," Odo hums, but his heart isn't in the banter anymore; he's letting his muscles relax into the softness beneath him, breathing out and feeling almost . . . curiously liquid as he sinks down into it.
"Federation socialism isn't here," Quark replies.
Odo grunts in reply, then shifts his shoulders, arching back a little, bringing more of the fur into contact with his head. He wants more of it: more of the feeling of the soft warmth against his skin, more of the plushness of it, more of the sheer luxuriousness.
Shifting around brings him closer to Quark, more of their skin coming into contact. Quark coughs.
"I apologize," Odo says, opening his eyes and glancing over.
"No, no. It's . . . kind of something, to see you let go like that."
Taking a chance, Odo arches again, twisting his arms against the soft surface. "It's not - it's not something I wanted people to see me doing."
"Yeah. But I'm not people." Quark grins.
All at once, Odo feels a new kind of hunger within himself, rising like a tide. "I want to do them all," he says. "The sauna. The swimming. The massage."
Quark watches him carefully for a moment, then says, "Computer, play program Quark 3544." He rattles off an authorization code, too, which surprises Odo. He wonders what Quark might keep under lock and key.
Their surroundings shimmer away, dissolving into a shady, mossy forest glen. There are ferns and trees, glistening with slow-moving beetles and slugs, and a clean bar of sand next to a small pond. Quark skins out of the rest of his clothing and dives in, naked.
Odo hesitates, but then follows his example. The water is . . . strange.
"What - what is that?"
"The salts and other elements in the water. Naturally occurring," Quark answers, diving down and then popping back up again. "The salts make you buoyant. And the other stuff . . . "
"Makes the water slippery," Odo intones, feeling it as it slides over his skin. It's almost, almost like the kind of liquid his own body used to be - thick, glistening, prone to pooling rather than beading, like mercury.
"Where are we?" he asks. Quark looks at him for a long moment, then answers, seemingly honestly.
"Back home on Ferenginar. This pond was on our property. Well. The neighbor's property. Rom and I used to come swimming here anyway."
"Even though you hadn't earned ownership of this land?" Odo teases.
"Well," Quark says, "the Federation would say that all beings should have access to pleasure and joy, regardless of their net worth."
"Uh-huh." Odo can't even concentrate on the words anymore; he's too caught up in the feeling of his skin - solid and porous, unyielding and supple - as it interacts with the strange, slippery water.
He takes a breath, and without thinking about it too much he dives down into it, only to get shot back out. He grins and does it again, then again and again, laughing each time as the moving caressing water slides over his body. He feels like he loses consciousness, almost, in the pleasure of it, the strangeness, the way it makes him blissfully aware of his entire self.
When he stops for a breath, Quark is next to him, holding his shoulder so he doesn't inhale any water. Odo's body is singing with exhaustion, a strange all-over fatigue he's never felt from running or stretching. It's new, like so many things are new.
"Easy, easy," Quark is laughing. "You'll never let me hear the end of it if you die in my holosuite program."
Odo laughs more and collapses his head onto Quark's shoulder. He feels a little drunk with it, with all these new feelings and the ability to finally experience them fully. The world before him is expanding.
"Hmmmm," he says, content, when he's under control enough to pull away from Quark. He looks up at Quark for the first time in a few minutes, and the look on Quark's face is hard to read at first: surprise, genuine surprise, shock even. Odo floats closer again.
"What is it?"
Quark shakes his head. "Nothing," he says. "It's just - strange, to see you like this." He coughs. "I should get back to work. Feel free to enjoy the program for the rest of your allotted time."
"All right," Odo agrees. Quark starts to float away, then turns back abruptly, swimming up to Odo in one powerful breaststroke. Their skin touches under the water, arms and legs and Quark's chest against his, and that skin-on-skin feeling is even better, augmented by the water between them. Odo takes a steadying breath as Quark leans up and bites Odo's jaw, once, with his sharp little teeth.
"Let me know if you want any more hedonism lessons, Constable," he breathes. His words and his gaze are as sharp as his teeth.
Then, while Odo is still reeling from that, he pulls himself out of the water and heads for the changing room attached to the holosuite, clothing in hand.
Odo stays there a while longer, floating, paddling, looking up at Fereginar's weak and distant sun. He wonders what other strange and unimaginable sensations might be in his future, and he gives himself over to the feeling of his body, touching the world around him.