Work Text:
Wade shuffles his feet and readjusts his position for the 17th time. The ring in his pocket is impossibly heavy and in the process of burning a hole in said pocket. He perks up when his partner approaches him. Strange food is stacked on the wooden tray he places upon their table. A patty between buns and long, crispy potatoes. Wade can't help but shake his head at the sight. But food this bizarre fits in perfectly with the locale. Shiny, slick tables, chairs, and floors, none of which look like anything else in the land. Wade could swear some of the kitchen equipment is so advanced, its existence seems almost impossible. His hands itch to get a hold of it—he could take it apart and figure out how it all works.
"You know what, Herren? This isn't bad at all," he admits, trying to hide his slight stammer as he pops a fry in his mouth. Herren finishes chewing his mouthful of hamburger, but Wade can already predict his words.
"I told you so. That's what everyone was saying about this place," he says.
"And right you were," Wade says, which prompts a smile from his partner. The sight makes little butterflies tumble in his stomach, and his thoughts return to the ring in his pocket. Would it perhaps be most prudent to wait until after they're done eating? No, Herren always wants to get up and go as soon as possible when they've finished dining somewhere. Very unromantic, really. Herren eyes him and Wade smiles sheepishly. He no doubt realizes just how flustered is. Herren smiles back, making his heart leap once gain. There's no waiting to be done, here. It's now or never.
Wade reaches for the ring in his pocket. He tightens his legs to get up and out of his chair. In that very moment, something else grabs Herren's attention. And not just his attention, but everyone else's as well. At one of the adjacent tables, voices are suddenly raised. A young woman wearing very little besides a brassiere and a skirt and a young man with strawberry blond hair and oddly shaped ears have engaged in verbal fisticuffs. What they're saying is completely beyond him—it's impossible to hear when they're both nearly shouting at the same time. Wade and Herren shoot each other a judgmental glance.
Most everyone else at the debate club's table seem to be trying to turn invisible. They're stone-faced and slumping into their chairs. Eventually, someone takes action. An impossibly tall brick of a man with braided hair puts his hand firmly on the shoulder of the younger blond. At the same time, a red-head wraps her arm around his debate partner. Both gestures, gentle and less so, seem to calm them down—at least for the moment. Wade can't place the odd group. They're like a puzzle piece he can't quite fit into the big picture.
"Do they seem familiar to you?" he asks, turning towards Herren. But he's already covering the side of his face, making it impossible for them to see him. With a tiny grimace Wade bites into a burger. The cheese is warm and melty and there's some delicious sauce on top of the patty. Not bad at all. But the burning sensation in his pocket hasn't ceased and he can no longer ignore it. With his heart in his throat he settles on another attempt post-burger. He shoves the meal in his mouth, trying to savour the flavour and be quick about it, too. It earns him a wide-eyed stare from Herren. Now his cheeks catch fire, too.
Burger long gone, he shuffles in his seat once more. He takes a deep breath, calming his galloping heartbeat. Hands shaking, he reaches into his pocket.
"Fine dwarven pies! Straight from the oven! Come get yer pies!" booms a voice from over the counter, making them both jump in their seats. Wade doesn't even get to release an exasperated groan before Herren gasps with a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.
"I've got to have some of those pies, they're so good!" he exclaims. "Do you want some?" Wade merely grimaces, crosses his arms, and tilts his head. The only sounds escaping his throat are groans. Herren stares at him with a smirk and one eyebrow cocked.
"Okay, fine, I do," he mutters with a dramatic hand gesture. All he can do while his beloved gets in line for pies is pout and tap his foot. This has already kept him up all night and now he has to suffer through numerous interruptions? Life just isn't fair no matter how you look at it. After long enough for his heart-rate to pick back up, Herren finally returns with several pies too many. Oh well, if nothing else at least they'll have dessert. Wade pauses, gaze fixed on a pie. Could a ring fit neatly in there without the action of burying it seeming too suspicious?
As he considers it, the two finish their original meal. Maker, smithing is far easier than this emotional mess. Herren digs into his first pie with a big grin. Wade attempts to return it, but he doesn't have to see his face to know it looks downright demonic in its awkwardness. He takes a bite out of a pie as well and all of his doubts almost evaporate. The crust is crumbly and crunchy and the apple inside is sweet and spiced and melts on the tongue. Fine dwarven pies indeed.
He takes his time with the pie, as opposed to the poor burger, but the ring is getting so warm, it's threatening to singe his skin. It's time. This time it's really time. He motions to get up, catching Herren's attention.
A high-pitched shriek sends him crashing back into his chair. Their gazes snap back to the kitchen. At the gallop-through window, a server nearly dropped their bagged food. And who can blame them, when they're faced with the unholy cross between a horse and a dragon at the window. If Wade had been faced with that out of the blue, he'd have shrieked as well.
"Andraste's knickers, what is that horrible thing?" Herren mumbles. Wade shakes his head.
"Whatever it is, it's bloody ugly. But I imagine its hide would make for some rather lovely leather armour," he says. Herren nods once.
"Oh yes, no doubt. That's certainly more useful than riding the awful creature," he says and digs into another pie. Wade quickly follows suit, but his bouncing leg is getting more and more unbearable and his stomach feels as though it's going to digest itself. Alright. One more pie. Then no more excuses. It's now or never.
A loud scraping noise resounds against the wall outside. Herren nearly chokes on a piece of pie. Right next to the window stands a young templar in shining armour. She's hacking away at the building. Her words are muffled through the windows, but Wade definitely picks up the words 'abominable building', 'unnatural', 'doesn't belong here', and 'work of demons'. It's almost fascinating to watch. Another youngster with a very bold choice in make-up smeared across their nose approaches the young templar and seems to attempt to bargain with her. She merely raises her voice at them, and their grimace deepens more and more. Finally, two city guards roll up to them on their horses. The screaming promptly stops and everyone seems to settle down. Within a blink of an eye, the stylish diplomat has all but vanished.
The burning has thoroughly spread to Wade's stomach and erupted through his veins.
"That's it," he hisses.
"Yeah, sheesh, there's a lot going on here. This place is like a magnet for weirdos—" Herren says, but his words trail off when Wade gets up, gets down on one knee, and wrestles the ring out of his pocket. Silence reigns between them while his eyes widen massively and his jaw drops. Wade clears his throat.
"I've been thinking about doing this for ages, and if I don't do it now, I just might lose the nerve," he rambles. Herren points a shaky finger at the ring.
"Are you—are you doing what I think you're doing?" he asks. Wade tilts his head.
"Is that a yes?" Herren buries his face in his hands, peeking out between his fingers.
"You just had to make a scene, didn't you?" This prompts Wade to look around. All eyes are on them. It changes nothing. If anything, it only strengthens his resolve.
"Well of course I did. I'd have written it in the stars if I could," he says. Herren laughs, loosening up some of the panicky tension in Wade's stomach.
"You know, people usually date before they propose to one another," he says. Now it's Wade's turn to smile sheepishly.
"Isn't that basically what we've been doing? Only without using the word 'date'?" Herren snorts and giggles again.
"I guess so? I suppose. Yeah," he stutters.
"So?" Wade asks, dragging out the vowel. He can't stay down on the floor forever.
"Well. I love you, you overdramatic arse, and we're basically already a couple, aren't we?"
"I'm not hearing a yes," Wade says, smile growing, tension evaporating.
"You still haven't asked," he says. Wade's heart skips a beat before he starts giggling.
"Will you marry me, then?" he finally asks, voice bouncing with laughter.
"Yes." Biting his lip, Wade slides the flashy ring onto Herren's finger. It fits perfectly, of course—he crafted it himself. The two stand back up, hand-in-hand, and embrace. It's a tight, warm hug, serving as the perfect soothing middle of a strange restaurant now lit up by thunderous clapping.