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Tweak says, "zac and hayley BBF's forever!"

orym loves pie 🥧 and could kill you ⚔️ (littlemoon) wrote in valloic,
@ 2023-12-13 17:32:00

Entry tags:

!: action/thread/log, critical role: dorian storm, critical role: orym, ~plot: serendipity hills

Serendipity Hills (viewable on screen)

Orym & Dorian

WHO Orym Ashari and Dorian Storm
WHERE The Festive Feastery, a restaurant at the resort
WHEN Evening of December 13
WHAT A maybe date is confirmed to be an actual date and Dorian makes Orym an offer.
STATUS Complete
ART CREDIT Me, I drew it!
WARNINGS Mentions of loss, but also kisses.

What was his life turning into? It felt like a Hallmark movie—who met people, trapped in a resort, went on a date with them, and offered to come on a once-in-a-lifetime adventure, all in the span of a few days?

Dorian couldn't remember the last time he had gone out on a date. Or, not-date. This wasn't a date, not when he first asked Orym to the restaurant to have dinner since "where else were they supposed to go?" But as he was getting ready in the cramped single-occupancy room that he was sharing with three other people, Opal had proudly proclaimed in a sing-songy voice Dorian has a date and he couldn't seem to unthink it. (He did tell Opal vehemently that it wasn't, only that he felt bad Orym was eating dinners by himself when he could have some company. That had only made Opal smile wider, and he batted her away when he saw Dariax smiling too.) He had one nice shirt that he had crammed to the bottom of his bag, in case they were asked to dinner on their tour by a music producer with a label. A pipe dream, but it had worked out because he didn't think any of his 'costumes' that he wore on stage as the lead singer of the Crownkeepers was appropriate attire for dinner. This was a cream, blousy number, and held snugly against his body with a vest. He thought he looked nice. Then again, when he and Orym were sitting at one of the corner tables, adorned with an overtly Christmas and gaudy centerpiece, Dorian was reconsidering. The Festive Feastery certainly lived up to its name, with it's twinkle lights and soft music and holiday romantic vibes that— nope, nope. Quick to scoop up his menu on his not-date, Dorian hid behind the options for food. Because he thought if he looked at Orym for too long, he'd actually start to believe Opal. The candles on the table were also not helping shift the mood back to friendly. Maybe he should have picked lunch. "Have you eaten here before? What's good? What do you recommend? There's brown butter sage gnocchi, that is calling to me right now. Do you like appetizers? We can share something if you'd like. I don't know how hungry you are. I'm hungry, but not starving so everything is really—" Dorian finally glanced up, when he realized he had been talking a lot. He had the audacity to look embarrassed. "Sorry, I do this a lot when I'm nervous." Which he wouldn't be, if Opal hadn't said the d-word. The relief that went through Orym at Dorian's admission of being nervous was unlike any that he'd felt in a long time and he knew it had to show with the smile that immediately bloomed on his face. Getting stuck on the mountain had been a surprise to Orym, just like he knew it had been for a number of people. He had only just missed the last chance to leave the resort when he'd hurried outside after finally finishing dropping off the last haul of wreaths for the holiday decor and found that the parking lot had been gated off for the safety of everyone. That meant that Orym had been left at the resort with nothing but the clothes he was wearing and his wallet in his pocket... which also meant that he had spent longer than he cared to admit looking at the various boutiques at the resort for something that wasn't his beat up Carhartt and work boots for this, well. Orym wasn't quite sure what this was. It had been years since Orym had gone on a date as a single man. He had tried exactly once at the behest of his sisters-in-law, who had set him up with one of her friends. It had gone fine. He was a fine dinner companion and conversationalist, but when he'd gone in for a goodnight kiss, Orym had ducked, said goodbye, and sent a thank you, but I don't think it will work out text the next morning. That, Orym had decided, would be it, at least up until Dorian had asked if he'd like company for dinner and Orym had found saying yes to be the easiest thing in the world. And so there Orym was, sitting there in a flannel that fit nicer than anything in his closet back home and jeans that the salesperson at the boutique had sworn made his butt look great, smiling warmly at the musician he had only met days before. So was it a date? Orym didn't know, but there was a traitorous part of him that sincerely hoped it was. "I've never been here," Orym admitted first, answering Dorian's question in that unfairly cute ramble. "And I'm pretty hungry, so let's split an appetizer or two." Those covered, he then leaned forward conspiratorily before adding, "Can I tell you a secret?" He didn't wait for a response before pitching his voice just loud enough to be heard over the din of the restaurant, smiling again a bit crookedly. "I'm nervous, too." Playing it cool was difficult. When Dorian was on stage, he could be free, let go of his inhibitions, indulge in the music and just be. But without his band, or even his guitar, Dorian was antsy, fidgeting, wanting to do something with his hands. He was tapping a rapid staccato against the edges of the menu now, pretending to read it because admitting he was nervous about a not-date had been a risk. A tongue-tied risk, because Orym Ashari was cute, and cute guys made Dorian nervous. But it had been that same nervousness that had made him blurt out the dinner request in the first place. He wasn't sure what to do now though, with Orym confiding that they had a mutual feeling. And somehow, focusing on Orym's nerves was better than thinking about his own. "There's no need to be, you know. I promise I don't bite," Dorian said, then worried it might be coming on too strong. Focus. "But right, appetizers. There's—" Dorian squinted at the menu. "Yuletide Yule Logs, I think those might be mozzarella sticks. Santa's Snowflakes and Salsa, so... chips and dip? Maybe nothing with too much garlic in case we...oh." Dorian was not going to finish that sentence. Not going to even mention garlic again. Maybe he should get something with a lot of garlic to prove he didn't think they were ending the night with a kiss. Why was he already thinking about the end of this night when it just started? Why was he thinking about kissing? Probably because Orym's flannel looked cozy and he was was finding that the thing he wanted to do with his hands was put them on Orym. "Is it hot in here or is it just me?" Dorian asked quickly, reaching for the carafe of water on the table. "Well, you are ho—" Orym didn't know what had come over him to even get that far in the sentence. Flirtation was not his forte and it never had been, but there was something apparently inspiring between the atmosphere, how weird the past few days had been being stuck at the resort and how grateful he was for Dorian's company during them, and how he was pretty sure Dorian was going to say something about kissing and that this was almost definitely shaping up to being a date given their combined bashfulness and everything else. Still, his cheeks flushed and the tips of his ears turned red as he dipped his head and smiled a bit ruefully. "Sorry," he said, sparing a look up at Dorian through his eyelashes. "It's been a while since I did anything like this and I'm trying not to come on too strong, but also. You're just, you know." He gestured toward Dorian. "Very good looking...but also talented and really easy to talk to and, ah." Orym bit down on his bottom lip, as though trying to physically stop himself from speaking; he was never telling Leeta this or she'd never let him live it down. Still, he didn't want to leave his words hanging there, though, and quickly added, "We should do the mozz sticks and the 'Tis the Season Dip. It's a spinach artichoke dip, I think?" Smooth. Real smooth. Dorian, very very quickly, did not care about spinach dip at all. He didn't care about what they were eating or drinking or really doing at the moment. All Dorian could think about was Orym saying he was very good looking and easy to talk to and Dorian't whole heart was tumbling out of his mouth when he said, "Is this a date?" It was like his body couldn't help it, his mind overthinking it. Obviously, there were far more eloquent ways to ask the question, and not blurting it out like a heathen. Dorian had been the lead singer and the songwriter for most of the Crownkeepers hits; he was the words guy but somehow he was forgetting how words work and just saying whatever came to mind. But to be fair, Orym started it, by walking in wearing that flannel and smiling at him and almost—definitely—saying he was hot. He put the menu down. "I mean, it doesn't have to be. And the spinach dip sounds really great, I'm not saying no to the spinach dip but I think it would be easier to say yes to splitting appetizers if I actually ate the appetizers, because I am hungry, but I'm also nervous and sometimes I can't eat when I'm nervous. And you, you might think I didn't want what you suggested we split, and I do not, do not, want to give the wrong impression. But I'm only nervous because Opal told me it sounded like we were going on a date, and then I thought maybe it is a date but we didn't really say that and—" Breathe, holy shit, breathe. Dorian could feel his whole face heating up because he was embarrassed or losing oxygen or both. "I'm not upset if it's not. But maybe it would be better if we could just figure it out now before we order food." The same relief that Orym had felt before when Dorian had admitted to being nervous made itself known again. Just like that, the tension in his shoulders—tension that he had just barely had the inkling of being there before it was so suddenly gone—seemed to release and he smiled again, this time less rueful and instead just pleased. The butterflies were still there, fluttering about in his stomach and chest, but there was something comforting about knowing that there was something about little old him that could put someone like Dorian in a state like this. All right, well: comforting and flattering. Orym could admit that much. "Can it be a date?" Orym asked, realizing that maybe he should be more definitive in his answer. It might help calm Dorian's nerves, as much as his own. Leaning forward a bit, Orym kept the menu in one hand while he extended the other towards Dorian in offering. He didn't know if that was too much or too cheesy or something else altogether, but what's done was done. "I'm sorry," he said, head listing to the side as he watched Dorian. His voice was steadier than before, even as his heart beat away in his chest. "Let me try that again. I'd really like this to be a date, if you'd be interested in that, too." Can it be a date? Dorian thought it sounded far more earnest than his accusatory one about the nature of this dinner together. He had not intended it to be a date, and he wasn't sure if that was clear to Orym. And he wanted to make sure that Orym didn't feel pressured into saying yes when he really wanted to say no. They hadn't known each other for long, and Orym seemed to have a tendency to be polite, even to the rudest people (And how could people be rude at Christmas?) His attention snapped to Orym's hand stretching across the table, like a peace offering. A gentle way to let him down? No, no. Dorian was going catastrophic for no reason. Well, no, that was a lie. He had a reason. He liked Orym. He liked him a lot. Dorian didn't want to mess up this whole thing, and he felt like he had. Dorian took his hand anyway, because if he really did mess this up—then so be it. He would be holding Orym's hand while he did. That was better than nothing. Except nothing was being ruined. Everything was actually going—well? "I would really like this to be a date too," Dorian said, calmly, smoothly, simply. Because it was simple. It had always been simple. "And if I'm being honest, I think I kind of hoped it was even before she said anything. So yes? This is a date? Maybe we should start over?" It was a date. A real, actual date. And sure, maybe the last couple of minutes had been a demonstration of nerves, but it also had led to a question and communication and, well, Orym wasn't one to get too ahead of himself, but that felt like a very good sign, indeed. He kept his hand in Dorian's, his fingers that were rough from years of manual work at the greenhouse looping with long musician fingers. Orym knew that he probably couldn't hold onto his hand the entire night, as eventually they would order and get to eat those appetizers and actual meals, but it felt a little important to him to keep that connection going, at least for a few moments longer. Not to mention, well. Orym just really liked how his hand fit in Dorian's so effortlessly. "Let's start over," Orym agreed, straightening up just a bit. "Hi, Dorian." Unable to help himself, he grinned at the goofiness of those two words alone, but he wrangled it into a softer smile as he added, "Thanks for inviting me on this date. You look exceptionally wonderful tonight." Asking for a do-over on a not-date-but-now-a-date seemed silly in retrospect. Who would actually agree to that? But of course, Orym did. And Dorian felt his whole body relax, and everything felt light—lighter, that he was going to float away in all the dreaminess of the date and in Orym's hand holding. Did they skip ahead? Maybe this was an end of the night thing they should do. Well, Dorian could think of another end-of-the-night thing they could do. Now he didn't feel so awful for considering it, but he also realized he should not have anything with garlic in it after all. Just in case. For all the nervous awkward bubbling in the beginning, this might have been the best time he had had in a while with someone else who wasn't a Crownkeeper. "Hi, Orym," Dorian said, equally goofy. For someone who had no time to go on dates with his tour schedule, Dorian was having no problem slipping into this one now that it had been finalized. "And thank you, so do you. I worried that you might not have any other clothes, given the situation. I was going to offer some of mine, but then you would have had to come up to my room where the rest of the band is and we might not have ever made it to dinner. They like to ask a lot of questions." He realized that this wasn't the compliment he was going for in return, and cleared his throat. "That is all to say, that you also look really nice. It suits you." This time when Orym blushed, it wasn't accompanied by stumbling words or embarrassment. This time it was based simply in that quiet pleasure of being given a compliment from someone he very much wanted to be on the receiving end of compliments from. Orym wasn't very good at accepting them in general, but they were nevertheless very nice to get from Dorian. "Thanks." It was a simple answer, one combined with another duck of his head as he looked down at the new clothes and then back to Dorian. "They're new, because you're right that I didn't have any other clothes. I don't buy new clothes for myself very often in general and usually they're just stuff I can wear for work, so thanks for giving me a reason to treat myself, a little bit." Glacing back at the menu for just a moment, Orym's eyes fell on Dorian again. Fully unaware of the garlic dilemma that was going through Dorian's mind, he asked, "So. Sticks and dip?" "I don't think I was the reason," Dorian said grinning, giving Orym another appreciative once over. "You weren't really going to keep wearing the same clothes for days were you?" He had no room to judge, as his own sets of clothes weren't really date-appropriate. He would have bought something if he needed to because Dorian, intentionally and unintentionally, was trying to impress Orym. He thought that maybe he didn't need to try as hard as he did though. It seemed he was impressing him by just existing, which was ridiculous. "Not that you should have to buy clothes every day you're here, and who knows how long that is going to be. They haven't said anything about clearing out the snow, and a lot of people are worried that the resort won't be able to sustain this many people for much longer," Dorian said, then frowned. "I just hear a lot of things when I'm busking during the day. People still have enough holiday cheer to tip, so I can't complain." It was only after his rambling about his day-to-day that he realized he never answered. "Uh, oh, and yes to sticks and dip. Sorry, I know. We're supposed to be having dinner, on a date. It's just—" Dorian made a soft contented sigh, amused at his own thoughts. "I don't mind being snowed in. I wouldn't be doing this if we weren't." "You don't have to apologize," Orym said quickly, shaking his head. To punctuate the point, he set down the menu and shifted to balance his chin on that now free hand, elbow on the table. (He was pretty sure his mother had told him at some point that it was rude to have your elbow on the table, but he didn't think Dorian would mind too much.) "We could skip food and just talk and I'd still end up calling it a great date." As though demonstrating exactly that, Orym continued, "I don't mind it as much as I thought I would, either." He had been fairly unhappy to be stranded that first day, not that most would have really recognized it; Orym wasn't exactly one to let his negative emotions out on other people, instead internalizing them with a neutral look on his face. It had actually been Dorian's music Orym heard when he had been meandering around the resort that had started to soften those emotions. Then it was conversation and Dorian himself that had melted those edges right down. Dorian was special, Orym had realized early on. There was just something about him. "If I wasn't up here, I'd probably just be eating leftovers on the couch with some random documentary playing." It painted a more boring picture than he wanted to, especially when talking to someone who was on tour with their band, but Orym was nothing if not honest. Still, he scrunched up his nose as he smiled a little self-deprecating before he dropped the look altogether and just gazed at Dorian. "This is much preferred. The food is better and the company is top-notch." "We're definitely going to have dinner. Because if you're going to eat leftovers in your hotel room later, I want to make sure they are good ones," Dorian teased. He didn't think spending the evening on the couch was such a bad consolation. Being on tour meant a new place every night, or in some case, in the back of their car, sharing space with two others. He loved the music and being on stage and the exploration, especially after being in his old hometown where everything felt too crowded and suffocating. But Dorian wouldn't mind slowing down, not if there was someone like Orym with him and fighting over the remote for whatever they were going to watch that evening. It was so domestic it hurt, and Dorian figured he was getting too far ahead of himself with someone he had only known for a few days. A part of him, probably the ridiculous illogical part, thought Orym might not mind. But that didn't mean he was going to say it out loud. He had already done it too much tonight—even if it had given him good, date-like results. "I'm enjoying the company too," Dorian said encouragingly. He wanted Orym to know he was having a good time, trapped in a hotel be damned. "Not that I don't love my bandmates. We get along, but we know everything there is to know about one another. And after years together from starting in a garage to on the road, it feels like I don't know anything new." At least, he thought so. But he barrelled on. "I like meeting new people. And finding out about their lives. If I didn't, I'd write a bubble. Our music wouldn't be much of anything." It was a life that Orym could only just wrap his head around, if only because he'd daydreamed more than once over his years about what it might have been like had he not stayed in his hometown as he did. There were several points where it was tempting; possibly leaving for college, moving after he and Will were married, then wanting to just escape the memories after the loss. He hadn't left, though, and he didn't regret the life he'd made for himself in Serendipity Hills, but he still sometimes found himself wondering what his life might look like had he let that wanderlust take hold. He might not be on a date with Dorian, Orym thought, if he had. That, alongside being close to his mom and in-laws, was a plus. Deciding to voice some of those thoughts, Orym said, "I've been here in Serendipity Hills my entire life, so I think part of me can understand being in a bubble—with experiences, people you surround yourself with, all of that. You're the first new person I've met in a while, if I'm honest." One of the side effects of being from a small town where everyone went to school together or was babysat by or knew your parent way back when; there weren't many new introductions, unless someone wandered into town by accident. "Though I'll bet you've met a lot of interesting people," he ventured, still peering across the table with his chin in hand. "And probably have some pretty good stories, just based on what you've told me about your bandmates. I've been here in Serendipity Hills my entire life and interesting people can blow in and out, but." Orym waved a hand, as though indicating the everywhere else that wasn't his home. "There's a lot out there." Dorian didn't seem put out by Orym's admission. In fact, he was curious. If things had been better at home, Dorian might have stayed too. He might have built a life of everyone knowing his business and knowing everyone else's business. But his music wouldn't have gone anywhere, and Dorian would have kept it private for the rest of his life. But there were aspects of what Orym was describing that sounded nice. If only Dorian could have both. "You're the first new person I've met in awhile," Dorian said. And then started to laugh, and wave off whatever Orym might have been about to say. "I mean it. We're on tour a lot, and most of the people we meet are just there for the venue, or in the crowd. We spend only a few seconds with each person individually for an hour or so with the whole crowd, and then we're off. It's nothing like this." He gestured between them, just having a conversation. The date part was also implied. "So if I've met interesting people, I might not even know it. All of it goes by so fast." Dorian sounded a little sad as he said it. Human connection had been such a revitalizing component to their music and what they did but how often he missed the deeper part of it. But the yearning in Orym's voice was enough to kick Dorian out of his own thoughts. "Why don't you?" Dorian blurted out. He looked a little embarrassed to be so blunt, but he doubled down because that had been working for him this evening already, why not try again? "I don't mean to be rude, but there is a lot out there. Why don't you leave? Even for a little while, it never has to be permanent. You should do it to say you did." "I've thought about it," Orym said, giving voice to his previous thoughts. He moved, his hand leaving his chin to play idly with the corner of his napkin. "Just in general, but there have been some specific moments where it was a tempting thought. But it's just me and my mom and, well..." Orym's voice trailed off, unsure just how honest about your past and feelings that you were supposed to be on a first date. He could barely remember his first date with Will, if only because they already had so much history before they made that leap into More Than Friends that the progression felt so natural. In a way, though, it felt similar with Dorian. They hadn't known one another their entire lives after growing up as next door neighbors and being one another's childhood best friend, but just the last few days of time spent together and conversation left Orym feeling as though he had known Dorian for a long time. It left him wanting to be honest. "I know that Mom would support me if I wanted to leave and explore other opportunities or just travel aimlessly for a while. It's just hard to shake some guilt, even if I know it's not something she'd like at all, when I think about leaving her and the business. I have other family too, but they're not—it's different—they're—" He stopped, took in a breath, and managed a small smile. "They're my in-laws. I was married, but he passed a number of years back. I know they'd support me if I left too, but I've been here so long, there's so much history." Orym's gaze dropped and he pushed his fingers through his hair, letting out an awkward chuckle. "Sorry, that's probably a heavier answer than you were expecting. I'd like to go and see other places someday, I would. Maybe I should start with a vacation?" Dorian could not hide the surprise and shock on his face. It wasn't a bad sort of expression, just one of someone who did not expect to hear that Orym had been previously married, with in-laws. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the waitress, who had probably thought it was a good time to approach, about-face and walk away. Dorian attempted to school his features into something that looked a little less oh my god or they were never going to get served food. Obviously, the first thing Dorian wanted to ask was you were married but then he realized that it hadn't ended in divorce but in death and it was rude. The second thing he wanted to ask was are you okay?. He didn't ask that either because Orym seemed comfortable enough to talk about it, and that the level of okayness would be determined by how much he was willing to give away freely. Dorian simply nodded because he understood about having history and support and worrying about leaving being an issue. In the quietest he had been since the date started, Dorian said softly, "You should. Start with a vacation that is." And then more confidently, he added, "That's how it starts. You do a few days and see how you feel. And then you work it up to be longer or places further away. Leaving home never means that it has to be forever. And you never have to be far from them. Exploring and getting out means you can experience what else is available to you. But making that choice never has to be permanent. You can always come back home. Come back here." He smiled, "It's not goodbye, it's—it's see you later." Dorian thought about his words, and felt the need to clarify. "But goodbye to a place, not a person. But I guess it could work with a person too." Orym did his very best to appear as nonchalant as possible as he took in Dorian's shocked expression and waited to see what the next phase of this date would be. Though he had only known the other man for a few days, it didn't feel like he would immediately bolt; though it wasn't infallible, Orym thought that he was a good judgment of character and Dorian seemed like a solid, good sort. Still, he couldn't fault him for the shock. Orym was young—too young, many had said in hushed voices when they thought he couldn't hear—to be a widower and he hadn't talked about Will in their previous conversations. He didn't bolt, though. Instead, Orym watched as Dorian just eased back into the conversation. It did something to his heart, a feeling that he hadn't felt in a long time and had assumed he would never feel again. It was early, Orym knew it was, but he could feel himself on the precipice of very easily falling for this man. A dangerous thought, given how they wouldn't always be snowed in at this resort. "It's not goodbye, it's see you later," Orym repeated after Dorian, testing the idea out with a smile. "I like that. I like that a lot." He paused a moment, seeing the waitress again out of the corner of his eye as she seemed to be taking a mental temperature of their table. He smiled, adding, "It's about to be the new year, yeah? Maybe I'll make travel a goal. Come see your band play somewhere." "New Year's resolutions are always a good time to try something new," Dorian said encouragingly. It was better than taking off in the middle of the year like Dorian did and having some kind of crisis about it later. At least there was the cover of tradition behind the choice. But he was getting excited at the prospect of Orym to adventure, even for a little while, that Dorian blurted out: "You could come with us." Okay, well. Maybe that wasn't the best idea. Coming on tour was not luxurious or what Orym was probably thinking when he said he wanted to vacation away from Serendipity Hills. But Dorian had already said it, and he was starting to feel a little panicked about offering. But it felt right, and there was no point in backing down from the suggestion. "You don't have to if that sounds weird, but it's there. You'll be with the band, see a different city every night, meet new people every day, and you can always peel off from us when you're ready to go home. There's no obligation to stay." It sounded good in theory, but Dorian knew that this was their first date and had barely known each other for a few days. Inviting someone on tour with a veritable stranger was not always the best idea, but he didn't think Orym was someone who was going to be a problem. And maybe they could keep getting to know each other better. The pros outweighed the cons. "And you wouldn't even have to play an instrument. And you'd have company, because traveling alone can get lonely. Just—" He huffed, then smiled. "Think about it. You don't have to say yes right away." Dorian was assuming that no was not an option. That was not an offer that Orym was expecting in the least. His eyebrows shot up on his forehead and his spine straightened a bit, the shock evident but also not bad. It was simply unexpected and his expression quickly turned to contemplative as he truly thought about this offer. It was incredibly unlike him. Orym was a sensible man—he had been told that his entire life, having graduated from that child that adults always believed to be telling the truth when he talked himself and his friends out of trouble to being a responsible adult that did responsible things. He was a man who thrived, or so it seemed, on routine and knowing what his next day would look like. His friends and family knew that he could be counted on to house or pet sit while they were on vacation, would always help someone move, rarely turned down an offer at dinner or drinks. After Will died, it had been a defense mechanism, of sorts; Orym had lived his life on a predictable schedule, because it was the only way he could get himself out of bed some mornings. One task at a time, one hour at a time, one day at a time. Now, six years later, he had come a long way in his healing journey thanks to his loved ones and therapist, but he'd gotten so used to the every day that was his life that he hadn't considered that maybe he was ready to break free of it. And, well... it was coming up to the slowest time of the year, that lull between the holidays and Valentine's Day. His mind still churning around logistics and just what his sisters might say if they knew he was entertaining this idea, Orym's voice took on an almost embarrassingly hopeful tone when he asked, "Your bandmates wouldn't mind?" Dorian could see Orym thinking about it and he waited, patiently. There was no telling if this was a good or bad thinking only that he was contemplating it and Dorian couldn't have asked for more at the moment. What was his life turning into? It felt like a Hallmark movie—who met people, trapped in a resort, went on a date with them, and offered to come on a once-in-a-lifetime adventure, all in the span of a few days? The problem was, the more he thought about it, the more he tried to talk himself out of it internally, the calmer he got. Like their meeting was predetermined, like all of this was culminating into finding one another, randomly. His own face lit up at Orym's question. "I don't want to speak for them, but I don't think so. They'll be glad to have someone new on tour. You might just have to battle for the bed when we can only share one room," Dorian said, his own embarrassment coming through. "It's not glamorous, but it's fun, and I think that's all that matters in the long run, right?" Also maybe a roof over their head and food and a place to shower. But Dorian didn't say that, he assumed it was part of Orym's contemplation. What Dorian wouldn't give to know what he was thinking, and try to banish any doubts to prevent him from saying no. He probably looked a little desperate. "Let's eat first. And you can ask me all the questions you want, and actually have dinner, which was the whole point of this date." And Dorian waved over the waitress who looked ready to run over to take their order. They did order, both the appetizers and drinks and eventually meals themselves, as Orym made a mental note to tip their waitress well for her support and continued patience. The conversation flowed as they ate and drank, the nerves from the start of the date seeming to have given way to an easy back and forth. Orym asked questions from Dorian that helped him form a picture of just what he might be getting into if he actually accepted this wild offer. Except, it didn't feel that wild. In a way, it almost felt as though he had just been waiting for Dorian to drift into town. Orym didn't know if he believed in fate, but he suspected that it would feel a lot like this if he did. Eventually, though, their dinners had been eaten, dessert had been shared, and their glasses were empty. They paid, Orym remembering that good tip, and left hand in hand. As they meandered through the halls, Orym found himself considering just how his loved ones would react if he did jump into this whirlwind adventure with Dorian. His mom and Nel would be surprised at what would seem like an out of character choice, but be supportive if it was what he wanted. Leeta would immediately start running background checks, teasing him all the while. Maeve would just hug him and ask for all the details, while Bearnie would start packing his bags. All of them, he knew, would just be relieved to see him perhaps lift his finger off the pause button that his life had been on for the last six years. So lost in his thoughts, he and Dorian almost passed by the door to Orym's temporary dwelling in the rest. "Oh, sorry—sorry, this is me," Orym said, coming to a halt and tugging gently on Dorian's arm through their joined hands to stop him. All at once, he looked a little bashful. "My mind was wandering. All on good things, but you know." After dinner, Dorian had no qualms about doing date-like things. Gentle flirting, hand holding, even a moment when Dorian reached across the table to wipe food off the corner of Orym's mouth when he could have just directed him with a napkin. Whatever he had been worried about seemed to be the problem of another Dorian in another life. Tonight it was good food and good company (and also dessert, Dorian insisted that Orym deserved a little treat.) Even after leaving the restaurant, Dorian's hand easily found Orym's as they walked to his room. He was thankful it was his room first and not Dorian's—while he didn't think Opal and Dariax would cause problems, Dorian sensed they might hear them outside the door and bombard him before Dorian could debrief them on his rather spontaneous request her made to Orym. Or they would spy on him through the peep hole. Both sounded like ways he did not want to end the night. And it wasn't like he could invite Orym in. Not that he would. That was moving too fast. Definitely faster than asking him to come on tour with them after three days. Right? But he still frowned when they approached Orym's door faster than Dorian was expecting. And he had been walking slow, so slow it almost felt backwards. He heaved a sigh. "It's okay," Dorian said, squeezing Orym's hand. "I had a good time tonight. I hope you did too?" Orym squeezed Dorian's hand back tightly, just for a few seconds, in response and reassurance. "I have a really good time," he replied, emphasizing just to make sure there was no confusion whatsoever. He hadn't really known what to expect when he'd fussed over his new clothes before leaving to meet Dorian and, in retrospect, he was sort of glad to have had that stretch of cluelessness. It made the date that followed all the more special. "Thank you, again, for asking me to dinner." He likewise didn't want the night to end, finding himself doing some mental gymnastics while trying to figure out how to stall, how to let this night continue, but not seem too overbearing or like he was trying to move things along too quickly. It was a weird balance to consider, given that he was about to (most likely, he had resigned himself to this fact) agree to leave Serendipity Hills for however long with this man. The thought made him smile and push some of those nerves down. "So," he started, turning to best face Dorian. "I don't suppose it's too presumptuous to ask if you'll kiss me now, is it?" Dorian was beaming now. All the thoughts and doubts he had about how this night would end were quickly wiped away. He didn't think Orym would beat him to asking, but he didn't mind. He nodded, then realized just nodding wasn't verbal consent, and added, "It's not presumptuous at all. I would like that." Then he was leaning in and capturing Orym's mouth with his own. This kiss was... something else. Dorian had kissed people before, had flirted with triple the amount of that, but nothing was quite like this. The rightness of it, the butterflies that burst free the moment their lips touched. He was giddy with the feeling, and he couldn't help but smile wide into the kiss to hold back his gentle joyous laughter. After so long of not having this, Dorian was renewed. It was, probably, an inappropriately long first kiss with Orym. Kissing should have been sweet, chaste—and it was, but it was also more than that. He had almost pushed Orym against his hotel room door to keep kissing but that was probably a little much. He pulled himself away, though he looked disappointed that he had to. "I—well, yes. Well. I'm, just." Dorian couldn't seem to start a sentence, so he rubbed awkwardly at the back of his head, and allowing the bashful flush creep into his cheeks. Just like it had been a long time since Orym's last date, it had been even longer since he had been kissed. He could count the number of men he had kissed on one hand and it took even less fingers to count the number of those kisses that felt like electricity running through him. This was a kiss like that, a jolt as their lips came together, then that slow warmth burning through his chest and to his extremities. Dorian was a good kisser, that much was evident from this first kiss alone, but it was more than obvious skill. They had a connection, one that Orym could see and feel plain as day. A connection that he wanted to explore, to see what might come next. The scales were tipping inside of him as one more pro was added to his mental tally of what he was going to do once the snow cleared. He could feel it in his mind and that recognition, as well as Dorian's attempts to talk, made him smile wide. "Same," Orym said, chuckling softly. "I feel the same." Clearing his throat, he fished the card to open his room out of his pocket. "I want you to know that I really want to invite you in, but I'm trying really hard to be a gentleman. It's not easy." His wide smile turned a bit rueful at that and he ducked his head just a moment, before looking back up at Dorian. "But I'll see you tomorrow?" Nearly choking, Dorian just nodded to Orym, acknowledging his attempt to be gentlemanly. "No, no, it's fine. I don't want to put any pressure on you. Or myself. Either of us." He waved off Orym's concerns because it was also difficult for him to say no to him, even if Orym wasn't exactly asking. He could recognize the want and not act on it for now. "It doesn't have any baring on the evening, it was still—" Oh hell, he was leaning in to kiss Orym one more time. Because tomorrow felt too far away. And Dorian would regret it if he didn't get one more before he spent the evening staring at the ceiling of his own room wondering if Orym was thinking about him too. And his kiss. Kisses. "I'll see you tomorrow," Dorian echoed in agreement against Orym's lips. "Maybe for breakfast?" "Breakfast." The murmured agreement from Orym was against Dorian's lips in return, as he caught the other man's cheek with gentle fingers to keep him from pulling back. He took a final kiss, this one no less sweet than the others, but a bit more drawn out and lingering. It was for his own benefit, of course, as much as it was for Dorian's; he couldn't help but be a bit coy, giving Dorian something to hold onto until morning. Finally, he pulled away from Dorian, pausing to let his eyes roam over his handsome face as he committed the moment to memory, then smiled brightly, the lightness he was feeling shining through. "I'll see you then, Dorian Storm."

CODING