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This couldn't be happening.
Except, it is and it's just Cullen's luck. Really. After meeting a man in one of the most cliché and ridiculous ways possible, after getting the courage to actually call and speak with him, after asking him on a date, after actually going shopping with Leliana and suffering through being dressed up like a doll and parading around until she was satisfied he looked perfect, after the dog chewing up the brand new pair of shoes (he's so not telling Leliana about that),after leaving the house a little later than he wanted to, his car gets a flat.
He's definitely going to be late now. Not to mention dirty. Maker, but can he catch some sort of a break?
Apparently not, because as he gets back into the car after changing the tire out for the spare, he sees a small rip on the knee of his slacks. He curses silently and peels off from where he'd been on the side of the road, driving for a short while until he reaches the nearest store and rushes in to make use of the faculties. It's not the best, but it's the best he can do after washing up in the sink and carefully brushing off grass and dirt to not make the stains any worse. It's then he realizes there's grease on his tie and he irritably yanks it off and fights to get it in the small trash bin beneath the paper towels.
Maybe this is all just a sign from the universe that he's not destined to meet with Dorian. That maybe it's a bad sign and he shouldn't make the attempt at dating again. That this is the whole wide entire world telling Cullen to stay away because Dorian is out of his league.
A sense of defeat suffuses him as he trudges out of the restroom toward his car, and has the intention of texting Dorian to say he's running late. Except, of course when he reaches into his pocket for his phone, it's not there. He has visions of it lying on the side of the road and smacks his forehead. Then kicks the spare tire for good measure.
When he finally arrives at the restaurant—a nice little Antivan bistro tucked away down one of the charming side streets in the city—he's almost half an hour late. Dorian's probably gone already. Some stupid thread of hope has him going in anyway, suffering the look of utter disdain from the host since he's without a tie and still slightly unkempt.
Maybe the evening won't be so bad, because Dorian's still there, sitting at the table looking even more handsome than he had on the train, and chatting amicably with a rather dashing blond elf. The conversation slows as Cullen approaches the table and Dorian gives him a smile, along with an expectant arch of his brow. "Well. There you are."
"Sorry." It's out of his mouth before he can form a better apology. He winces as his own lack of restraint. "I—" his eyes dart toward the elf still standing there, watching with an amused curve to his lips; he looks back at Dorian, "My car got a flat on the way here. And I'm pretty sure my phone is laying somewhere on the side of the highway."
Dorian simply hums and lets his gaze flicker over Cullen from head to toe and notes that what he thought was casual dishevelment, really isn't. "I suppose that's an acceptable reason for being late meeting me."
The elf clasps him on the shoulder with a good-natured smile, "A bottle of your favorite, on the house, my friend." As he walks away, he winks at Cullen and for several moments he stands there watching him walk away.
"So," he finally collects himself enough and sits in the seat across from Dorian, "you've been here before?"
Dorian smiles in a certain kind of way and Cullen struggles to figure out what it means. "Something like that. Zevran is a dear friend."
A silence settles over them and Cullen feels awkward. Oh, he tries not to, but that doesn't quite work out and he shifts in his seat. He wets his lips and can't help the sheepish look that overtakes him as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. "I feel terrible making you wait. If you'd—" his brows furrow as he pulls his hand away with a small clump of grass pinched between his fingers; he frowns at it and sighs, heat rising to his cheeks as he slumps back into the chair. "Maker's breath. You must think me some sort of fool."
There's a beat of silence before Dorian laughs. He laughs and Cullen's stricken in the moment, unsure if it's at him or for some other reason. Still, it's a soft, unobtrusive laugh and in spite of himself, he likes the sound of it. "No, I don't, actually." And if there's a note of surprise in his tone, both of them ignore it. "Unlucky, perhaps, but not a fool."
And, so, they fall into conversation from there, Cullen recounting his tale of misery in order to meet Dorian (he even shares the bit of being put through the ringer for clothes and how much trouble he'll be in later once Leliana finds out). The wine—some sort of vintage from Tevinter—is delicious and flows easily between them while they wait for their food. They're deep within conversation when it happens. Dorian's explaining the merits of using rubbing alcohol to get grass stains out before washing when he stops suddenly and his eyes go wide.
A second later there's a steaming pile of spaghetti in Cullen's lap. And on his shoulder. And a little in his hair. And red tomato sauce soaking into his white shirt.
"Oh no." It's quiet and Cullen doesn't even know why he heard Dorian say that over the exclaiming going on around them. This is really not how he imagined this date going at all.
The waiter profusely apologizes, Zevran appears out of nowhere to soothe things over and usher Cullen off to the restroom. As he stands there with his pants off in the middle of a dimly lit, plush bathroom and gently scrubbing his pants to salvage something of the evening, he figures it's time to throw in the towel. Someone, somewhere out there, doesn't want him and Dorian together. It's hard to ignore signs this loud. He sighs and pulls a piece of pasta out of his hair, throwing it on the pile of growing paper towels. The shirt, he decides, is a lost cause and feels like he's sealing his fate as he holds it under a hand dryer to at least get it to an uncomfortable dampness instead of soaking.
On the way back to the table, he decides he's going to call it quits. There's little else that can go wrong now and he's really embarrassed himself enough tonight as it is. Once he gets back to the table, there's a new chair for him and his jacket carefully folded over the back. He takes it and pulls it on, sitting carefully and leaning over closer to Dorian, keeping his voice low. "I think I should go."
A strange look flickers across Dorian's face, but it's quickly sealed away before Cullen can parse what that could have meant. He folds his hands into his lap and there's a tightness to his smile that wasn't there before. "Of course. I can hardly expect you to stay covered in someone else's dinner."
Cullen smiles a bit ruefully, not understanding why he's slightly disappointed. He was the one who wanted to go. "I'd like to—"
He's cut off when Zevran swoops back to the table with a waiter in tow. Their food is placed on the table with yet another gift of "on the house." They share a look and Cullen just shrugs and thanks him for the offer. Alone again, Dorian quirks a brow in question but doesn't speak; Cullen simply lifts one shoulder in a shrug and picks up his fork. "Well, I've been under worse conditions. It's just a little marinara down my pants."
Dorian smiles in a way that's been different from all the others and it seems when he realizes he ducks his head to hide it. "I do hope it's not the most interesting thing you have down your pants."
The laugh is almost startled out of him, but it takes the tension that had wound its way in his muscles with it and they settle back into something easy once again. The conversation ranges from work ("But let's not discuss that, it's so dreadfully boring."), to friends ("I bet he's been texting all night wanting to know what's happened. One good thing about my phone missing."), to books (they both discover they're big fans of mysteries). It's been easy talking to Dorian and Cullen wishes he'd gone for something better than a dinner first date. He doesn't want to hope for a second, but finds it happening all the same.
They're nearly done sharing an incredibly decadent dessert that is so laden with chocolate he thinks it's worthy of that over the top name it has that he can't pronounce without sending Dorian into a fit of giggling. He protests he wouldn't do something so childish, but it can't be called anything other than what it is. But, it's cute, and Cullen likes it.
A lull in the conversation has the tip of Dorian's finger tracing along one of Cullen's and he doesn't even bother to hide the smile that hooks up the corner of his mouth. "This is certainly one of the strangest first dates I've ever been on... ever, I believe."
Cullen's brows rise as high as they can and he gives a huff of a laugh. "You? How do you think I feel? I'm—I've never had anything go this wrong this quickly. Or this much."
Dorian smiles that smile again and hides it behind the wine glass; Cullen doesn't take his eyes off of him. "But I'm still here."
There's little question, now, that maybe it isn't a fool's errand to hope for something more after this. His fingers curl under Dorian's and he brushes his thumb across the back of them. "So you are."
It's careful the way Dorian watches him and Cullen can feel... something hanging in the air. He's not sure what, but something. Dorian's mouth opens as if he means to say something, but his eyes dart to the side and color begins to drain from his face. A series of curses leave his mouth and nearly has Cullen's head spinning. He means to ask what's wrong, but suddenly their table is cast in a shadow as a huge hulking man—no, qunari—stops just beside them.
"Dorian! Been a while."
Dorian's hand twitches and he seems to hold Cullen's in a near vice-like grip for a second before he lets go. "Not long enough."
That awkward feeling comes rolling back and Cullen doesn't say anything just yet. Later, he'll think that he should have.
The qunari leans on the table, it creaks under the weight. "Don't want to give it another go, huh?"
Dorian's jaw tightens and he gestures to Cullen. "I'm with someone, in case that's escaped your notice, Bull." His teeth are near clenched, the words bitten out. "On a date."
It's now he's looked at and a slick sort of grin curls on Bull's lips. "He looks like he can hold his own. I'm not picky, I can share." Cullen looks insulted almost immediately and it's obvious it infuriates Dorian, but before either one of them can say anything, Bull continues, "Didn't seem to bother you the last time with—"
"Enough!" The glass and silverware on the table clatter as Dorian smacks his hand down. "That's enough."
At that point Cullen tunes them out, feeling incredibly uncomfortable—more so than when he had a lap full of food, and that's saying something—and the honorable part of him wants to end this before it goes further, but this is part of Dorian's life he has no idea about and he doesn't even know Dorian all that well, so stepping in is crossing a line.
Isn't it?
He's really not sure. But... when has that ever stopped him before? Cullen sets his lips in a line, straightening in his seat, ready to jump into the fray—so to speak—when as soon as gets his thoughts together, he's got a faceful of wine.
Dorian curses wildly, Bull laughs too loudly, and Cullen is ready for the world to swallow him up all over again. Bull claps him on the back, still laughing and says, "Feisty, isn't he? Enjoy yourself." Then to Dorian he gives a sly grin, squeezing his shoulder as he passes by, "Give me a call. Soon."
Silence descends over the table and Cullen doesn't dare look up. He quickly wipes himself off, already thinking of just letting the dog shred these clothes to rags and sighs. From here on out, he's swearing off dating. For the rest of his miserable life.
"I think I should go."
Dorian doesn't say anything, so Cullen looks up. There's an unreadable expression on his face and once more Cullen finds himself wishing he knew what that meant. "I understand." His voice sounds strange, a strain to it almost, but Cullen doesn't know what that means, either.
Still, when he rises from his seat, he does it with a smile and grasps Dorian's hand in his. "I—" He wants to say something positive so Dorian knows he did have somewhat of a good time tonight. Maybe they can try again sometime? But, what winds up coming out is a rather basic, "It was nice. Mishaps not withstanding."
Again Dorian smiles and there's something about it Cullen doesn't like, but he can't figure out what it is. He pulls away from the handshake too quickly. "Perhaps you can salvage the rest of your evening."
And that's that. They part and Cullen knows he'll never see Dorian again because he's already rerouting his way to work to avoid getting trapped on the same train by chance for the next few weeks. No need to have them both feel embarrassed or awkward if they happen to meet again. Or, rather, he'd like to save a little bit of face and feels it's deserved after all this.
He's standing at his car, forehead resting against the top of the door when he hears someone call his name. Or, rather, when he hears Dorian call his name. Part of him just wants to get into the car and pretend he didn't hear, the other part has him straightening and turning to face Dorian just as he gets to Cullen's side.
The next thing he knows, Dorian's jerking him in by the lapels of his jacket and crashing their lips together in a kiss. It takes a moment to gather himself, but after that, he falls into it with reckless abandon. His arms wrap around Dorian's waist as his lips part to allow him entry. He tastes like chocolate and coffee and pulls slightly at Cullen's hair. Their lips slant together, tongues sliding against each other so easily it's as if they were made to do just this. The heat of the moment has Cullen turning them, pressing Dorian back against his car. A noise is fed into the kiss and Cullen can't tell if it was him or Dorian, but it hardly matters. Dorian's nails press into the back of Cullen's neck, and the skies open at that moment, rain pouring down and soaking them instantly.
Dorian laughs, inadvertently breaking the kiss and Cullen can't help but laugh along with him—though his own sounds far more defeated. His head drops to rest against Dorian's shoulder as thunder rumbles overhead. A lingering kiss is pressed just beneath his ear. "I want to see you again."
Perhaps foolishly, Cullen can't help the smile that pulls up his lips. "Okay."
"And you forgot your keys."
----
"I called you that night after I got back home. Turns out my phone was on the bed. With my wallet. So... it's a good thing everything was gratis."
Dorian laughs all over again, fully and hearty, and even wipes at the corner of his eyes. "What an evening!" Just from the look on his face, Cullen can tell he wishes he remembered. That gives him some flicker of hope all over again. "I assume the second date went better?"
There's a beat of silence and Cullen doesn't make eye contact. "Slightly." He clears his throat as color begins to rise on his cheeks.
That seems to spark Dorian's curiosity and he grins in the way that spells trouble. Usually for Cullen. "Oh? Go on, then. Don't leave it like that."
He leans forward to rub his eyes as if he's really put out by the whole idea (he's not), that hand dragging down his face until he can rest his chin in the palm. "I invited you over for dinner—"
"You cooked for me! On the second date, no less. My, but you must have been smitten."
"I was." Cullen doesn't even waste time responding, in fact, Dorian barely finishes before he rushes to answer. There had been a time when he would have felt embarrassed. Not now. Though he doesn't mean for it to be, there's a sad edge to his smile. "Still am."
Dorian swallows, head tipping slightly to make the attempt to hide the color that blooms on his cheeks. But, Cullen sees it and that's enough.
Clearing his throat, Cullen continues, "You brought over your favorite movie, as you were offended I hadn't seen it before. Though, we really didn't... watch much of it."
"No? Why not?"
Cullen hesitates and then just blurts it out; so much for attempting to "ease" Dorian into his memories. "We found better entertainment with you in my lap and kissing."
"That doesn't sound just slightly better than the first."
"No, it was fine—better. Just... as we were getting a little too into things, Garrett burst in the front door with Fenris and Varric." A beat. "And that wasn't the last time that happened, either. On our six month anniversary, you bought me a very complicated chain lock."
Dorian nods rather sagely for a man sitting propped up in bed in nothing but a night shirt. "That is the lock anniversary, you realize."
Back then, he'd said something similar and Cullen nods once, breathing out a quiet agreement. Then silence falls over them again and not for the first time Cullen finds that he's feeling sorry for himself that he has to repeat this and relive it without reminiscing with the person it happened with. It's selfish and he hates himself a little for thinking it.
"You know," Dorian begins slowly, "we could redo it. The date. And hopefully without all the mishaps. Once I've been deemed healthy enough to walk around, that is." Then, a little softer, "If you'd like."
Cullen smiles another sad smile—damn himself for doing it, he wishes he knew how to stop—and nods, his voice slightly husked through the strain, "I would."