“What do you think they’re talking about?”
“Definitely cracking the case.”
“Oh you think they’ve got it figured out?”
“They’re probably close.”
“Yeah, probably.”
Dorian paused for a moment. “Do you think they can see us from up here?” Orym looked over at him, a questioning look on his face but intrigue in his eye. “I mean, we are pretty high up. If we weren’t so close to the edge, no one could probably see a thing unless they were on a surrounding rooftop.
“Getting ideas for later, Storm?” Orym asked, a smirk appearing on his face. “All that talk from Tefta putting ideas in your head?” Blush began creeping up on Dorian’s face, the purple having become one of Orym’s new favorite colors, but the taller man made no attempt to argue with Orym’s question. “You are!” He playfully swatted at him, causing the other man to laugh. “Dorian..”
“I didn’t say anything!” he tried to say, but couldn’t stop giggling.
“But you were thinking it,” Orym also laughed.
“Is that such a crime? Given, I wasn’t thinking anything quite as illicit as I’m sure Tefta was, but my imagination also involves you so I suppose that you can blame me for.”
Orym grabbed his hand and pulled him back slightly from the edge, still keeping an ear out for Imogen and the others in the alley, but his attention now very much on the blue man in front of him. “And what is happening in that imagination of yours? Anything you’d like to share?”
“Plenty,” Dorian smirked. “But like I said, nothing too illicit. Mostly just being able to have you to myself for a moment and enjoying the peace. Under the stars, overlooking the city, no one currently trying to kill us.”
“Such a romantic,” Orym teased, still holding Dorian’s hand with no plans to let go. “I won’t lie and say I wasn’t a little relieved to see that you followed me up here. Not only because that meant I knew you weren’t still off on your own but also because I wouldn’t mind the alone time either, even if it’s only for a minute.” Dorian’s smirk softened into a gentle smile, his eyes sprankling even more than usual, the background of the starry night sky only adding to the man’s general etherealness. He sat on the ledge, pulling Orym closer to him, glancing briefly down at the fighter’s lips. Orym felt his pulse quicken, leaning into Dorian as he waited expectantly. The bard looked as though he was about to speak, but before he got a word out–
“Hey!”
The men leaned back over the side to see Imogen looking up and waving. Oh right, they both seemed to think. Missing people, secret entrances, bad things happening. Using the hands not currently being held by the other, the men wave back before pulling back from the edge again.
“We should probably get back down there,” Dorian said reluctantly, not yet letting go of his companion.
Orym made no effort to move away as he said, “yeah, I could probably hop down.” He paused for a moment. “Is it easy for you to get us there?” He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been taking note of every time Dorian ‘princess carried’ someone in the group, patiently waiting for his moment to be in the bard’s arms.
“I suppose, yeah,” Dorian teased, quickly picking up his meaning—the bard also waiting for the opportunity to carry the fighter, hopefully in a non-life threatening situation. “Would you rather hop, or we could…” he trailed off as he lifted his arms around the man, smirk back on his face. “Once a day, I can.”
Remembering Dorian could only use his boots once a day seemed to remind Orym of the limited time they had, of the mission they were on, and of the reality that, despite how it felt in this moment, they weren’t the only people in existence. Orym smiled at the man, squeezing his hand, “Save it.” The look in his eye saying another time?
“Okay, yeah, just in case something happens,” Dorian responded, squeezing his hand back. Any time. He looked back over the side, mentally calculating how big of a jump he’d have to make. “I think you could make it. I would probably twist an ankle.” He laughed at himself but Orym could hear the hesitance in his voice.
“I’ll go with you,” Orym looked in his eyes as he spoke, an unspoken promise in his words. “We’ll be down in a minute,” he called out to Imogen. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Orym began to move away again, only to be pulled back. Dorian, now down on one knee, was at Orym’s height, as he pulled the fighter close, cupping his face and resting his forehead against his own. Orym immediately rested his hand on Dorian’s shoulder, relishing in the closeness and wishing they had more than a moment to stay in the embrace.
“Maybe when this is over,” Dorian whispered, breath hitting Orym’s lips as he spoke, sending a rush down the fighter’s spine. “When this case is solved, those people are hopefully found, and the theater is safe again, maybe we could come back here. To the theater, I mean, not the roof specifically,” he added, making Orym laugh. “I know it’s not me up there performing or anything, but this place, what these people do, it’s special to me and I would love to share that with you.” Orym felt his heart swell. This beautiful man loved putting on a show, putting himself on display, yet hid so much of himself, but somehow he was willing to share it with Orym, a gift he would not take lightly and felt honored every time Dorian opened up to him.
Orym leaned forward, bringing Dorian’s lips to his as they met in a brief yet meaningful kiss. Everything pausing for just another moment, letting them have this bit of time before the chaos began again. Dorian sighed into the kiss, testing Orym’s resolve, but he knew they had a job to do and he promised himself that one day, someday, he wouldn’t have to pull away from this man just to rush off into danger and try to protect him.
“I would love to go to the theater with you,” he said. “I can’t wait to watch you watching a show.”
Dorian laughed. “You’re supposed to also be watching the show, Orym, not just watching me watch it.”
“Seeing you all happy and excited over the performance is far more entertaining to me than whatever is happening on stage.” Dorian shoved his face in Orym’s shoulder before the other man could see how purple he was getting. How does he still get me like that when I least expect it? Dorian thought. I hope he never stops.
“Come on, let’s get back to the others before all hell breaks loose.” Dorian finally pulled away and stood up again, brushing off his trousers and straightening his jacket. Orym just smiled at the ridiculous man fussing with his clothes.
“Yeah, I’d like to say ‘what’s the worse that can happen’ with us not there but that’s only inviting the universe to unleash something terrible.” The bard laughed at him as they made their way back to the hatch to return to the catwalk. Dorian hopped down first, holding the ladder as Orym crawled back through, admiring the starry background behind the man.
“Hey,” he said, making Orym paused closing the hatch door. The halfling paused above him, the night sky against his back, something heavenly about him and his natural beauty that Dorian couldn’t help but love about him. “Nevermind, I’ll tell you later.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Orym smiled, closing the hatch and continuing their way back to their friends and whatever madness waited for them in the alley of the Dreamscape Theater.