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Dorian’s phone buzzes in the middle of class—the lecture today is on the physics of supergiant stars, and is being given by the least interesting lecturer the department has to offer. Dorian checks the notification, and drops the phone in his haste to shut off the screen. Nearly a week has passed since his disastrous date with Cullen, and because he is a well-adjusted adult, capable of dealing with his feelings in a rational manner, he’s been ignoring the man’s texts.
Felix raises an eyebrow at Dorian, glancing pointedly between Dorian and his phone, before passing Dorian a note as though they’re in grade school rather than uni.
Dorian shakes his head at him, crumpling the note—unfortunately, the professor notices.
“Mr. Pavus, you disagree?”
Dorian freezes, frantically searching his hazy memories of the last few minutes ...were they talking about lifespan? He does manage to bring together an appropriate response, but the callout is enough to scare him into paying attention for the eternal twenty minutes until class finally ends.
Dorian and Felix are the first people out the door, and in his haste Dorian fails to spot Cullen waiting just down the hallway, obviously looking for someone.
“Hide me,” he whispers frantically at Felix, trying to duck behind his shorter, bulkier friend. Unfortunately, Cullen sees them and heads towards them, a hesitant smile on his face.
“Dorian,” Felix hisses under his breath. Dorian straightens, reluctantly, to greet Cullen.
“It’s good to see you,” Cullen says, “Are you— are you well?” His tone is tense and he won’t quite meet Dorian’s eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
Faltering, Cullen says, “You said you wanted to see me? Asked me to meet you here.”
“Sorry, that was me. You left your phone unguarded last night.” Felix cuts in. “He was pining, it was truly pitiful,” he adds to Cullen. “But, as I set this up so you could actually talk to each other, I’ll be over just around the corner.” True to his word, he heartlessly abandons Dorian to Cullen’s concerned eyes and adorable, tousled hair.
“If you really don’t want to see me, I can go— I didn’t realize you didn’t know.” Cullen says quietly. “But I wish you’d tell me what I did. Was— was not having sex that big of an issue? That much of a disappointment?”
“It wasn’t that big of a concern for me—I misread you signals. I was rather worried that I’d ruined men for you forever— don’t laugh, it was a concern! Even if it didn’t work out, I wanted to leave you with a good experience.” Dorian grins, pulling out his most dazzling smile. “It’s rather a large responsibility being someone’s first. Even if you’ve had women before, it was still a first. I was such a terrible date that you wanted me to leave in the middle. Then of course, I handled my mistakes with responsibility and dignity as befitting my age. Obviously.”
“I didn’t make you leave! You offered. I did needed some space to think, but I would hardly call a miscommunication ‘ruining me’. I was enjoying the date, even with the way it ended.” Cullen toys with the zipper of his jacket. “I’m sorry for not communicating clearly, though I maintain that ‘Netflix and chill’ meaning ‘let’s have sex’ is ridiculous. If I had wanted to end this, I would have said so.” Cullen gives him a lopsided grin. “As you would have known had you read my texts.”
“Yes, yes, we’ve established that was not one of my finer ideas. I’m beginning to understand that you would have made it clearer if you’d wanted to have sex— you’re rather direct.” Dorian smirks. “I suppose you are Fereldan.”
“If you’d like to give this another shot, we could have dinner tonight?” Cullen asks hopefully.
“Unfortunately, I have dinner plans tonight with my friend Felix and his father. You know, the one who” Dorian raises his voice, “texted you behind my back, like a traitor.”
“No you aren’t.” Felix pops his head around the corner. “I’m not in the slightest bit sorry for eavesdropping, but I retroactively uninvite you.”
“What?”
“Dorian, for the sake of everyone involved, spare me and my father your pining and go have dinner with the nice man.” Felix ducks back around the corner, pretending as though he’s no longer listening.
Cullen doesn’t even have the decency to try and hide his amusement.
“Well, I guess my evening is clear. What did you have in mind?” Dorian asks.
“Tevinter.” Cullen says immediately. “I thought you could introduce me? Since you let me pick last time.”
“Are you sure? Your first taste of Tevinter can be a mouthful,” Dorian winks, the joke instinctive. The second he says it he groans internally - he’d just gotten things straightened out between them. “Sorry, that was probably in poor taste.”
Cullen’s already connected the dots, his immediate reaction to rub the back of his neck, but there’s a snorted laugh as well. “It’s— I’m not fragile Dorian. Just because I turn red doesn’t mean it isn’t funny.”
“You look absolutely scandalized.”
“Well, it isn’t something I’m used to. But I like it, from you. It’s charming. And funny.”
“If you say so,” Dorian says, doubtfully.
“I’m parked out front— Did you drive?”
Dorian sighs theatrically. “I’m unfortunately a pedestrian in Ferelden. But I can give you directions to a decent place.”
It’s a short walk to Cullen’s car, and Cullen animatedly talks of his week at the gym, making up for lost time. When they get there, Dorian stops.
“This is your car?” he demands. “I’ve changed my mind, we’re walking.”
“It’s not that bad,” Cullen pouts. “It’s only a few years old.”
“It’s older than I am.”
“It is not!” Cullen pauses. “How old are you?” Dorian bursts out laughing.
“If it’s that close to my age…”
Cullen rolls his eyes. “It’s in good repair— look, I got it inspected last month and it passed, see? It’s on the sticker. You’re safe with me.”
“If it stops working I am leaving you on the side of the road, I hope you know.”
“If it stops working, I will gladly allow you to do just that. But,” he adds, “if it works all the way to the restaurant you have in mind, I’m paying for dinner.”
“You have a bet,” Dorian says. “The restaurant is halfway across town, I hope your elderly citizen of a car can make it. It’s certainly going to be a long walk if it dies on us.”
Cullen rolls his eyes. “Just tell me where it is.”
“It’s at the corner of Pleasant and Harrington. It’s a hole in the wall place, and they only do takeout, but they do the most authentic Tevinter cuisine in the city.” Dorian makes the leap and offers, “We could take it back to my place?”
“That sounds good,” Cullen says, smiling his gorgeous smile.
Dorian has a fourth floor walk-up, and his mouth is already watering at the smell of the curry they’re carrying.
Dorian’s apartment is much smaller than Cullen’s. It’s not quite a studio, but he has a cramped galley kitchen that is almost barren of kitchen equipment, where Cullen had an open kitchen with dishes and implements scattered across the countertop.
The rest of the apartment is still a holdover from when his father had been paying for his education, an elegant and comfortable couch with matching throw cushions, a clear glass topped coffee table, and a rather modernist rug. His bookshelves are full of well-worn books, clearly made for use rather than show.
He glances around, making sure there isn’t anything too embarrassing on display, but for the most part it’s orderly— the coffee table is covered in books with post it notes fanned through the pages, as well as a handful of notebooks. At least he looks productive.
The table is sleek and black with matching chairs; not real wood, but solid enough. Cullen takes a seat as Dorian starts to unpack the take out boxes. “This one is fairly mild, so you should be able to tolerate it, even with your deficient Fereldan taste buds,” Dorian teases. “This one—” he gestures to one that’s a fiery orange, and Cullen looks apprehensive, “Is much hotter. I anticipate that I’ll be eating most of that one, but you should try it. At the very least it will be funny.”
“Is that a challenge?” Cullen looks a little too determined as he opens the box.
“Perhaps. What would the stakes be?” Dorian makes a show of mulling over the idea. It’s almost certainly going to be a victory for him— Cullen’s unwillingness to eat a spicy burger on their last date doesn’t bode well for his ability to tolerate the hot curry.
Cullen doesn’t immediately respond, thinking about it. “I don’t know.”
“How about, if it’s too spicy, and you can’t handle it, you stay for a movie afterwards— and just a movie, to be clear. Watching, cuddling, perhaps some light kissing.”
“I’d like that— that doesn't sound like much of a forfeit to me.”
“Let’s say I’m very confident in my victory.”
“If I win, if I like it… We’ll go for a drive in my truck this weekend. A nice, long, relaxing drive. Where you won’t make fun of the truck at all.”
Dorian shudders. “That’s certainly a forfeit. Well, you’ll have to try it.” He finishes unpacking the paper bag, fetching paper plates from the kitchen.
Cullen takes a healthy portion of the rice, and two bite sized portions of each of the curries. Dorian takes a piece of the flat bread, adding a few bites of the spicier kind. He doesn't even pretend he isn’t watching Cullen with interest.
When Cullen still hasn’t taken a bite a moment later, Dorian helpfully says, “It’s a bit of rice and a bit of curry. Significantly more complicated than burgers, I know, but I have faith in your ability to handle it.”
Cullen glares, and nearly aggressively takes a bite. It’s adorable. It’s the mild curry, and he makes a face of surprised delight, fading into pure pleasure, and Dorian wishes he had a camera. Emboldened by that success, Cullen takes a bite of the spicier curry and nearly spits it out, eyes going wide, and he frantically grabs for his glass of water.
“Try the rice— or the bread. Much more effective.” Dorian advises.
Without saying a word, Cullen starts shoveling rice into his mouth. “What the fuck was that?” He manages between bites.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘fuck’.” Dorian shrugs. “It was a mix of cloves and chili peppers, mace, other spices.” He grins. “I believe you owe me a movie.”
“I’m not sure I want to watch a movie with someone who could be so callous about my health as to let me eat that.”
“A bet’s a bet, I’m afraid. It’s delicious—your Fereldan taste buds just can’t deal with it.”
“I’m surprised you have taste buds left.” Cullen mutters, but grudgingly takes more of the milder curry as Dorian smirks at him.
When they finish, Dorian packs the leftovers in the fridge, tossing the plates into the trash. Clean-up done, he joins Cullen on the couch, cozying up against him.
“So, what sort of movie are you interested in? I promise I’ll do better at advocating for one that interests me as well—beyond on just an eye candy level.”
“You didn’t like the movie we watched last time?” Cullen sounds faintly offended.
“It’s not my kind of thing, to be perfectly honest. But you seemed interested, and in my defense, I didn’t think we’d be watching it for long.”
“You have to tell me when you don’t want to do something, or you aren’t interested. I want you to enjoy yourself.”
“That goes for you as well you know.”
“I’ll… I’ll do better.”
Dorian ends the sudden silence. “So, shall we find out what movies interest both of us?”
They settle on action comedy, one that has enough wit to interest Dorian, without taking itself too seriously, and enough explosions for Cullen. Dorian got up quickly to shut the lights, and when he came back, he tucked himself against Cullen, nearly in his lap.
Cullen presses a kiss to Dorian’s hair, holding him close without any of the hesitance he’d shown on their previous date. Dorian has to admit that he barely follows the movie, focused on Cullen’s hand rubbing his back gently, the strong, clean scent of Cullen’s body pressed against his face.
The second the credits begin to roll, Cullen kisses him. It’s warm and sweet, and just on the edge of chaste. Dorian finds himself getting into it, moving to sit more comfortably. When Cullen runs his hands through Dorian’s hair, grasping just tight enough to pull Dorian closer, Dorian has to remind himself that he was supposed to be going slow.
It’s nice to simply kiss, run his hands over Cullen’s shoulders, reveling in the closeness and heat between them without having to make a performance of it, without calculating how to advance things, wondering when they’re crossing the line between foreplay and sex. It makes something relax within him, satiating a need for affection he’d forgotten he had.
Cullen is both more and less complicated than his usual affairs, and Dorian finds he can lose himself in it. There’s a disconnect between him and his usual partners, chasing pleasure rather than intimacy. Kissing Cullen is more intimate than most of the sex he’s had recently. He’s forgotten what that was like.
Pulling away, Cullen pants, “I’ve wanted to do that since you shut the lights off.”
“Word of advice, do it next time. We could have been making out this whole time.”
“But then there wouldn’t have been the same—” Dorian cuts him off with a kiss.