WHO Orym and Dorian Storm WHERE Their cabin at Solstice Springs WHEN Evening of January 14 WHAT The boys have a weekend of relaxation, which leads to a conversation about what they would do if Orym's past makes a visit to Vallo. STATUS Complete ART CREDITHere WARNINGS Mentions of spousal loss, self worth but also lots of fluff.
It had been a cold trek from the hot springs that they had spent much of the afternoon within to their cabin. Brisk, one might have called it, though Orym barely felt it. The hot water had done wonders for the tension that his slight shoulders seemed to always carry; it would be back with time, but for now it felt nice to just feel a bit like an overcooked noodle. Vallo didn't (usually) bring the same sort of big stressors that Exandria seemed to on the daily, but in the same way that it was hard to teach an old dog new tricks, Orym sometimes needed coaxing to remember that it was okay to relax. The hot springs helped with that.
What truly helped the most, though, was Dorian.
Though they saw one another daily and spent much of their time together when they weren't separated by work and other matters, Orym had yet to take a moment of that for granted. Even after nearly two years in Vallo together, it wasn't difficult for him to remember what it was like only to have twenty-five words granted by a rock tying them together. He carried the sending stone even now, both as a method to reach out when his phone was less convenient and also as a reminder. He was exceptionally lucky, Orym thought, to have someone so willing to stand by his side and be a calming presence for him; it really was pushing his halfling luck, given that he'd had two men choose to be that for him now.
Now back in their nicely temperature controlled cabin and out of the January cold, Orym had changed into his most comfortable of sleep pants and was pushing his hands slowly through his brown hair as he used his Gust cantrip to control the air and dry out the damp strands. All the while, he kept his eyes on Dorian, assessing and appreciating. He was only a man, after all, and well--just look at him.
"Have you reached peak relaxation yet?" Orym asked, smiling a bit fondly as he kept up with his hair. "You have to tell me, you know. It's my job as your boyfriend to make sure you achieve it."
Dorian had spent most of their walk back to their cabin staring at his pruney fingers. Too long in the hot springs or not enough, he couldn't decide. At some point he was certain he fell asleep sitting up or with his eyes open or something ridiculous like that because he felt both relaxed and rested like he had gotten a full night's sleep. He assumed that if he had dozed off, Orym hadn't let him drown. What a way to go that would have been. Embarrassing, actually.
He had not been so quick to change when they got back in the cabin. He had thrown on some soft pants but that was as far as he got before watching Orym busy himself—cheat with the cantrip—and smiled warmly at the domesticity of it all. Dorian didn't think it could get better than this, but he had said that a lot to himself over the two years with Orym, and somehow it managed to exceed his expectations. Part of Dorian, that anxious part that tended to overthink everything, did worry what would happen when the other shoe dropped. When they would be separated again, or when the whole thing would be thrown into upheaval.
Oh he hated his mind sometimes, and he went from being propped up on his elbows, to laying fully horizontal on the plush bed from the resort. He wanted to sink into the mattress and be swallowed whole.
"Is there a standard? What is considered peak relaxation? I think I'm getting there," Dorian said, pulling at the sides of the comforter to throw himself into a cocoon, with just his head peeking out. "But I could use some help if you're in charge of it. I'm bad at taking care of myself, I'd be better off asking if you have reached peak relaxation first. I'm much better at taking care of you."
A fond smile crossed Orym's face as he watched Dorian on the bed, his hands doing a final pass through his now dry hair. He did his best to flatten it into some semblance of control, as it was a little longer around his ears than he'd like, that curl starting when he let it go a bit too long between haircuts. He made a mental note to do something about that, but not now. Now was for relaxation. Haircuts could come later.
Crossing the distance to the bed, Orym hopped up onto the comfortable mattress with ease, landing directly next to his cocooned boyfriend. "You know, I don't think there's a standard," Orym mused, adjusting his position on the bed until he was able to gently direct Dorian's head into his lap. "I'm pretty sure that's dependent on the person, but I'm dedicated at finding out what your peak relaxation looked like." He thought that he had some pretty good ideas, more than a few of them involving even fewer clothes than they were already wearing.
With careful fingers, Orym began to work them through Dorian's hair, cognizant of how much longer the strands were compared to his own and trying to keep from creating tangled knots. He wasn't unused to trying to take care of his loved ones; for Orym, though, that often looked like throwing himself into the heat of battle to protect them. He had less cause to do that in Vallo and, when the opportunity did arise, he had been actively trying to hold back on the instinct ever since their argument months back. These quieter moments, though, where Orym was able to use his calloused fingers for gentleness, were the ones he had come to cherish.
"You're very good at taking care of me," Orym said, his voice its usual quiet as he looked down at Dorian. He ran his fingers through a smooth chunk of hair, setting it aside to continue his work. "I like getting the chance to return the favor."
Dorian almost sat up to tell Orym he was fine, and not to worry. But his hands were in his hair and his head in his lap, and everything was so nice that Dorian settled immediately. He was used to this nighttime care, and these quiet moments with Orym, but it was always punctuated by the (very welcome) noise from the other members of their house. Sometimes those seconds of peace were only that, seconds. Before someone was yelling, or something was broken, or someone was asking if they wanted to go get food. And Dorian had such a hard time saying no. He loved his friends.
But he also loved Orym dearly, and so he closed his eyes while Orym finger-combed his hair. "You take care of me," Dorian said, nearly humming in pleasure at the way the attention felt. "We take care of each other. It's not transactional, Orym. No debts between us. Not even with care."
He let the silence pass between them, before he squinted up at Orym. A rare occurrence, when Dorian was usually looking down at him. "This was your idea, anyway. I'm just here for the ride," Dorian said, teasing, as he burrowed further into the bed. He was going to leave it at that, just let the rest of the night slide away under Orym's gentle ministrations. But the longer Dorian sat in the quiet with his thoughts, the more his thoughts decided to remind him of things that subconsciously bothered him.
"Actually." Dorian's voice was soft, tentative. He realized he might break the moment, and this trip, by even mentioning it, when Orym had done nothing but make sure he was relaxed. Maybe it was up to Dorian to take care of his own restfulness.
"There is one thing I wanted to talk to you about." He paused, and sat up just a little, his hair falling over his shoulder. He kissed Orym on the cheek, as if to say not bad, don't worry.
Orym almost, almost turned his head to catch Dorian's kiss to his cheek with his lips, but he held back. That toed dangerously close to distraction and he didn't want to pull from whatever it was Dorian wanted to discuss. The message came across, that this thing wasn't a thing that he needed to go into panic mode about. It was something that Orym couldn't help appreciating, especially as it fit so well into the conversation as one more thing that they did, or tried to do, to take care of the other.
And that was why, despite it being Orym's instinct, he didn't immediately hop into trying to sort out what Dorian might want to talk about before he had a chance to say it himself. He had spent so much of his life trying to be one, two, three steps ahead out of necessity and survival, but this was different. He trusted Dorian, as it was like he'd already said: Dorian was very good at taking care of Orym. That included moments like this.
"All right," Orym said, his fingers lingering in Dorian's hair another moment, gently unraveling a tangle that he himself might have accidentally created with his fussing, before dropping. "What's up?"
The moment that Orym gave Dorian the go ahead to continue, he almost shied away from it. Suddenly he didn't feel like it was important (it was) or that they needed to talk about it (they did). He didn't want to break this calming relaxation they were here for. Dorian should have waited until they were home. But now that he had broached the topic, Orym would never let him ignore it. Because he cared, and that was what pushed Dorian to not tuck all the thoughts back into his mind where they had been rattling around.
"It's just that—" Dorian started, exhaled, tried again. "I like this thing we have, you and me. And this place has given us a lot of opportunities that we wouldn't have at home." Dorian knew that Orym kept the sending stone on him—maybe like a security blanket, maybe because he was scared. It was another thing Dorian hadn't pressed, and he felt sheepish that he had not done the same. He had become too complacent to carry, and then Orym didn't remember him and that fragile peace had been broken.
A reminder that all of this could be gone in an instant, if Vallo was feeling particularly petty one day.
"But that also means that there are things from our pasts that could happen here that we might not account for. And I don't want to stand in the way of that." Dorian made a sour face, his choice of wording as the Words Guy not being great. He always fumbled a bit when they ventured into serious topics, mostly because Dorian was so unsure, so doubtful, of how he was to other people. His self-esteem, or lack of it, was on full display. He was vulnerable, but he knew he could be in front of Orym.
He reached out and took Orym's hand in his, then covered it with the other. Dorian needed that grounding. "What would you do if Will showed up here?"
As soon as Dorian mentioned opportunities and their pasts, Orym knew right where this conversation was going. It wasn't something that he could begrudge Dorian for wondering about. How many nights had he spent curled up against Dorian's side, counting his deep, sleeping breaths, and wondering what he would do if that very thing happened? The number was far more than Orym could have counted, but the number of times he had come up with a solid plan was much easier to count: zero.
Sometimes it felt like it should have been a simple answer. Orym loved them both, there was no question in his heart about that. He loved each one of them in their own unique way, as they deserved. Dorian had never been a replacement for Will, just as Will had never been a ghost that haunted his relationship with Dorian. These truths had become easier for Orym to navigate, even if he occasionally had his lower moments where he wondered if maybe he was betraying Will's memory or maybe he was too laden with baggage and was just bringing Dorian down. Those moments had become fewer and farther between, though, as his relationship with Dorian strengthened and his knowledge that Will only wanted to see Orym happy solidified.
And yet, all of this growing and experience had been gained without Will. What would happen if he were to step back into his life, thanks to Vallo and its magic? That, of course, was always where the hang up would occur when Orym thought about it in the safety of night. He just didn't know, not for sure.
"I've thought about it," Orym admitted, his gaze locked on where Dorian was clutching his hand with both of his. He lifted his free one, letting his fingers graze gently along the bones of Dorian's wrist as he leaned back a bit. Not enough to pull his hand free, but just so there was a bit more room for them both to breathe as they plunged into this conversation together. "I've thought about it a lot," he clarified. "And you'd think after thinking about it as much as I have, I'd already have some sort of answer to give you. I don't, though. Nothing solid, at least."
Orym paused for a second, before quickly continuing, "I would be happy, of course, to see him here. He deserves a second chance at life and I think he would like it here. But—" Finally, he looked back up to Dorian. "I wouldn't want to just let go of everything we've built, either. I don't know if that's fair of me, though."
Dorian didn't know what to expect. Was he ungrateful? Did he sound jealous? Did he make Orym upset? How come he couldn't know for sure what the outcome would be? Dorian had spent so much time with Orym that he thought he could predict how answers to simple and complicated questions. And right now he felt like he was in some sort of strange, nebulous bubble, where there were no right or wrong answers. But that didn't make Dorian feel any better about bringing it up.
At least Orym had thought about it. Not that he wouldn't have, but Dorian didn't feel so ridiculous for also having it occupy his thoughts more than was necessary. Even when Orym kept looking at him, Dorian shied away, keeping his head bowed and his eyes on their clasped hands. The fact that they didn't pull apart was something, poignant. They could keep going. Dorian could keep talking and not clam up when he felt he overstepped.
"I wouldn't want you to be unhappy either," Dorian said, softly, almost a whisper. "I know you. Or I'd like to think I know you, and I feel like you would give up so much of your happiness being pulled in two different directions. I would hate that. I think, I think that Will would hate it too." Dorian felt confident in speaking briefly about Orym's husband. They had never met, and if Vallo wasn't being confusingly awful, they might never, but Dorian did share a few things in common for certain: they both loved Orym and they both knew how much Orym could be self sacrificial.
He continued. "You don't have to make any decisions now. It's so hypothetical, but it's not zero in terms of it never happening. I don't know. I don't have an answer either. I thought I might know what to do but not really. I'm probably too selfish."
"You're not selfish, Dor." That, at the very least, Orym could say with complete confidence. His boyfriend, though he loved every bit of him wholeheartedly, was not perfect; neither was Orym for that matter, something he was acutely aware of. In this, though, Orym felt that he knew Dorian well enough to believe that his motivations in life were not inherently selfish. That hadn't always been the case, of course, but Orym was unafraid to admit when he had been wrong. Besides, he added, "Wanting me—to be with me. That isn't selfish, especially if it's what I want, too."
At that, Orym leaned in, his free hand rising to cup Dorian's cheek. There was no pressure against his skin, no force to coax Dorian to look at him again. It was just another attempt at grounding, to remind Dorian that Orym was right there, exactly where he wanted to be.
"It's hard for me to say for certain what would happen, without Will already here to give his own opinions. I knew him, though, better than anyone and I know that all he would have wanted was for me to be happy. You make me happy." Orym leaned in again, pressing his lips to Dorian's temple, right at his hairline. It was less a kiss and more just another point of connection before he continued, "I wouldn't want to give either of you up and maybe that's selfish. I've always thought myself a one man guy, but—I don't know. You know I still love him, just as much and uniquely as I love you."
Orym took in a long breath, sighing deeply on the exhale as he considered that for a moment. When he continued, his voice was soft, gentle. "I'm just one part of that equation, though."
The hand on his cheek made Dorian look up at Orym instantly. His eyes watered unexpectedly, overcome with emotion at the conversation. Orym might have said that Dorian wasn't selfish, but he was selfishly glad that he had Orym to give him tender bouts of affection to soothe his nerves. He closed his eyes against the kiss to his temple. Everything was better with Orym and Dorian realized how much he depended on him for this. Maybe it was too needy, maybe Dorian was being ridiculous.
"I know," Dorian said. "I know all this, truly, I do. But you're not selfish to love two people and then have them both. I wouldn't make you choose, you know I wouldn't, but..." And this was where Dorian felt awful for it, that feeling inside of him that was always waiting to come out, the unkind parts. But he also knew that telling Orym and being honest about it all wouldn't be met with the shame he felt or disappointment in that line of thinking.
Dorian exhaled heavily, as if trying to force the words out, before finally admitting, "I wouldn't want to share." Gods, that was a lot. With all his thinking about a what if scenario, and seeing what it was like for Orym when he didn't remember Dorian, when he didn't know Will died, this was the hardest to say. "I wouldn't make you. We could still be friends, I wouldn't give that up for anything, but I would—" See himself to the side? Bow out? It was such a weird thing to consider when their relationship was fine—better than fine, wonderful.
"I wouldn't interfere. I can wait, I would wait." He hated talking about this. Dorian mentally chided himself for bringing it up, the antithesis of relaxing. He wound his arms around Orym, just to hold him.
There was no hesitation in Orym's reaction, his own arms curling around Dorian and pulling him in further, burying his face into the crook of Dorian's neck and shoulder. This was no easy conversation. It couldn't have been. He felt pride in his chest that Dorian had brought this up at all, knowing it couldn't have been easy for him or that it wouldn't be easy for Orym. That required courage, in his eyes.
Still, his heart ached at Dorian's words. He thought back to that week where they tried to set their admitted feelings aside for the sake of their friendship. It had hurt then, just as it hurt him now when considering this hypothetical, yet entirely possible, situation. "I wouldn't expect you to do anything you didn't want to," Orym murmured in understanding. "And I wouldn't expect you to wait for me or, or—" He was never the Words Guy, so he wasn't too shocked when they failed him now. Closing his eyes, he took in a shallow breath. "I can't imagine being without you, now. Not after everything we've been through."
The cruel part of Orym's mind and heart spoke up then: hadn't he said the same about Will once? Besides, would Will even recognize him anymore? Could his feelings change were he to see the man Orym had become without him? His rational side wanted to believe that he knew Will well enough to know he wouldn't be so fickle, but the questions were hard to ignore in this conversation of what if.
He was wholly glad to have Orym in his arms. It made this conversation easier. He wanted to pretend that everything was fine—and in reality it was, he was working them both up for a what if—but it was good to express his fears with the situation. He would have hated every moment that he wondered what would have Orym said if they didn't talk about this first. A gnawing pit opened up in Dorian's stomach at the possibility of never knowing. The pain of this moment would be worth it in the end.
"I can't imagine being without you either. It seems so impossible that we have come out on the other end of everything still like this. I don't even know what home would look like anymore," Dorian said, realizing his mistake. Even he knew that thinking about going back was almost as heartbreaking as this conversation was. He didn't want to spiral into it, so he continued holding on to Orym, enjoying the warmth and security his embrace provided. Safe, Dorian was so safe, and it was hard to say another time he felt that way outside of Orym.
Dorian was quiet, contemplative, but never letting go of Orym. The silence was good, the silence allowed him to think through what he was going to say next, and the things he had already said. It was a mess of possibility, but the reality was this. Orym. Him. Together on this bed, providing support for one another. He wouldn't give that up.
"I love you, Orym," Dorian whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. "I'm sorry that I ruined the relaxation. I just couldn't, I couldn't let it go. I want us to be prepared for anything."
Finally, Orym made himself pull back from Dorian. He didn't go far, though, taking Dorian's face in his small hands, thumbs brushing along sharp cheekbones and smooth blue skin. "You haven't ruined anything, sweetheart," he assured him. "I don't think it's possible for you to ruin anything, ever. Not with me."
He paused then, his keen eyes searching Dorian's face and expression in that heavy way that Orym seemed to do without realizing. It was hard to even say what he was searching for, but when he saw it, he continued, "I'm glad you were the brave one and brought it up, because I don't know how long it would have taken for me to finally do it. You're right that we should be prepared. This is just a reality of being here in Vallo and even if it never happens, it doesn't help either of us to pretend it wouldn't."
Once more, Orym let his thumb brush across Dorian's skin, just under his eye. "And if something is on your mind or bothering you, I always want you to talk to me about it. Even if you think it might be awkward, that's okay. Sometimes we have to wade through some awkward to just strengthen what we mean to each other. Which," he pulled Dorian's face in gently, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before adding, "is a lot. You mean so much to me, Dor."
"You mean so much to me too," Dorian said, letting his whole body relax—finally, truly relax—into Orym's touch. "And I know, I know I can talk to you about these things. It wasn't that I didn't want to, it was just that..." Dorian trailed off then, contemplative. What had been the reason? When he dug right down into it, the reason was simple: he didn't want to face the situation head on. He didn't want to prepare for another what if scenario. He wanted to keep being Dorian and Orym, and let the rest of the world fall away.
That was why Dorian was selfish, that was why Orym was much better at these things than he was. Dorian wasn't brave, or kind, or even inclined to make good decisions. But Orym thought so, somehow, through all of Dorian's self-doubt, and that was good enough to make him be all of those things. To want to be all of those things.
Dorian sighed softly. "It doesn't matter." Dorian's voice was quiet again, sounding tired and exhausted in a way someone who was carrying a heavy weight felt after finally putting it down. "I know, truly, it does matter, but right now it doesn't. I was trying to find the right words for everything and it's never going to be perfect. I have to embrace the imperfections, all the messy parts. All the fear and awkwardness. The things that you and I do really well together. Even if it hurts."
It hurt less now to think of it, though. That was a start.
There was a smile in his voice, and he kissed Orym now, tender and sweet. The kind of kiss that a brave Dorian, a kind Dorian, Orym's Dorian, would give.
Orym leaned up into the kiss, returning the tender sweetness with his own brand of it, trying to fill any gaps of reassurance that his words left empty. He didn't know if it was enough, but he was doing his darnedest to try. It was what Dorian deserved, he thought; maybe what they both deserved.
When the kiss ended—and after going in for a second—Orym leaned back again and this time brought Dorian with him. This conversation probably wasn't over. The next time one of them got swapped for a different version of the other or someone else asked a similar question as Ms. Gray had on the network, there was a chance that they might revisit this. That was okay, though. This almost certainly wasn't even going to be the last awkward topic that they would need to go over. That was just life and relationships and Orym wanted this one to have the longevity that he knew it could have, no matter the what ifs, no matter the uncomfortable conversations.
That could be for later, though. Now, Orym was more concerned with pulling Dorian back into the blankets that he'd had wrapped around him before they had fallen into their talk. This time, though, he didn't let his boyfriend be alone this time as he joined him, laying half on top of Dorian, one leg swung over him and a pleased little smile on his lips from where he looked down at him within their cocoon of coziness.
"Hey." Orym nuzzled into Dorian, lips brushing his skin as he nosed a trail along his cheek. "I love you, too. Every part of you, inside and out. I didn't say it before, but I should have."
Dorian could feel Orym mentally working through things. He suspected his own face was much more obvious: readable, always open, not difficult to decipher. He had tried, certainly, to remain unknowable—and the closest he got was changing his name, but everyone could see through all the rest—but it was impossible. However, being around Orym and understanding that the quiet meant something, strangely soothed Dorian's nerves. Orym wasn't so unknowable either, not to Dorian.
He opened his mouth to say something, to turn the question back on Orym—ask him if he had anything he wanted to talk about even if it was awkward or uncomfortable—but he was promptly cut off. Kisses and then sliding back down into the duvet cocoon were much better than the alternative. Dorian sighed in unexpected relief.
When he turned his face up at Orym, who was doing an absolutely spectacular job of making him feel warmed and loved, Dorian reached out to return the touch, running smooth lines across Orym's cheek and into his hair with his fingertips. "I know, I always know, you make it impossible to doubt that," Dorian said, tipping his nose up to touch Orym's, guiding him back down for their lips to touch like Dorian had been wanting again and again.
"It is nice to hear it though, that's why I won't stop saying it. Even if you know, too."
"I do know." Orym didn't have to make the confirmation, as they both so clearly knew the depths of their affection for one another. This entire conversation had been evidence of that. And for as nebulous as the future might have felt, there was no question as to what his heart knew right at that moment. He loved Dorian and he chose Dorian. Their lives were complicated, but that felt very simple.
"I could never forget that," he added, then closed the already minimal distance between them. It took barely anything to do so, hardly a thought at all, and he could feel the brewing of something more than just the cozy gentleness that they had been sharing up to this point. Orym's own fingers weaved into Dorian's silky smooth hair and he shifted even closer beneath their blanket, chasing that feeling without a second thought.
There would be time for more words later.