Work Text:
He isn’t used to being the big spoon. He’s just barely taller than 3 feet, there just isn’t enough of him to be good at it.
But he knew Dorian would need the reassurance and the support right now. He tried telling Dorian about his father being there, but invisibility must run in the Wyvernwind family. Orym sighs, wishing he could have done more to stand up for Dorian. Tell Zeru off perhaps, even though he knows that it was ultimately down to the two of them to make amends. He wanted to defend Dorian so badly but he held back and listened, instead falling into place to the right and slightly behind just like when he would accompany Keyleth. Being a protector was in his blood. Though he did get to talk to Zeru on his own and hopefully, finally, made him understand how valued and loved Dorian is. Dorian who clearly always looked for the approval of his father and only got it after pushing him on. Who showed so much courage and bravery in the face of a Betrayer God. Zeru may not see that side of his son, but Orym sees, and Orym will make sure he doesn’t forget it.
As soon as Bells Hells went their separate ways for the night, Orym could feel Dorian climbing into his bed. Usually Dorian would open his arms as an invitation for Orym to press up against his chest, burying his head into Orym’s hair and holding him so tight. It made Orym feel so warm and relaxed and it very quickly became the only way that the halfling was able to go to sleep. But tonight was different. Dorian instead slipped in beside him and laid there, not moving. He wasn’t breathing either. This was enough to stir Orym. Dorian only held his breath when he was nervous or anxious about something. His father making an appearance while calling him Brontë definitely made him nervous. He turned around to face Dorian, who was aimlessly looking up, playing with the rings on his right hand. Dorian looked down to face him which made Orym look away sheepishly.
Reaching his hand out, he tilted Orym’s head to turn back towards him. “Don’t look away. I like seeing you look at me.”
Orym’s eyes widened, and then the shock settled in and his features softened. He still wasn’t used to being flirted to. His and Dorian’s relationship was still very new and though he knew he loved Dorian with as much intensity as he loved Will, his time alone really took a toll on him. And his time spent in denial of his feelings for Dorian even more so. He felt unworthy of receiving love and he felt unworthy of getting to fall in love again. He enjoyed when Braius toyed and flirted with him because he knew that wasn’t real. But here, lying next to Dorian, this is very real and very scary and yet he is so happy and grateful that he is the one in this position. It makes him so sad that after all they have gone through together, after promising to do this together, Dorian continues to hide away. He pokes at Dorian’s shoulder.
“You don’t get into bed like this,” he pointed out bluntly. When Dorian didn’t answer right away he poked again.
“I’m still thinking about my father. I can tell he wants nothing more than for me to return to the Squall,” his eyebrows furrowed, the crease between them ever prominent. “And I made him that promise but I’m not sure that I will go back.”
Then Orym opened his arms. Dorian looked at him amusingly, knowing that this was usually his signature move. Orym just closed his eyes and stretched them out even further, fingers closing to beckon him to come in. When he felt the weight of the genasi pressing against him he wrapped his arms around him as much as he could. He probably made for a terrible big spoon. Back in the cuddle pile, this role would have gone to Fearne. But Fearne had been sleeping with Ashton lately, and Orym tended to take forever falling asleep if he wasn’t being held. Dorian probably missed being held too. He could tell as much from the way Dorian relaxed into the touch as soon as he got held. The bard had sworn up and down that he didn’t particularly enjoy physical affection and Orym wondered if he was the exception to that. Dorian never shied away from touching him. That made him feel special.
“No one is making you go back. You are your own person with your own agency. If you want to go back when this is done, then go. But don’t feel like you have to,” Orym spoke into Dorian’s back, rubbing his hand up and down his arm.
“I’d like to see it one more time, I think. To walk down the streets without having to hide who I am. Say hi to Mother,” he pauses for a little. “I can’t stay there. I can’t handle the pressure of living up to Cyrus. We were always so different. I can’t go back to being Brontë.”
Orym hummed in agreement. “You could always come with me to Zephrah. I’m sure the Voice won’t mind, and neither would my moms and sisters. The Ashari are in good standing with the Squall, you could visit as much or as little as you’d like.”
“I think I would love that, if that’s okay with you,” Dorian said, always so polite.
“I’m the one who suggested it, aren’t I?”
Dorian turned ever so slightly to make eye contact with him, and Orym kissed him on the nose, causing him to smile. The genasi kissed him back with such a tenderness that made Orym melt away every single time. Maybe having Dorian come to live with him in Zephrah wasn’t such a bad idea. Especially if their nights always consisted of being in each other's arms and kissing as if they weren’t in the middle of war.
They enjoyed each other’s company for a while. Orym started to think that maybe he wasn’t such a terrible big spoon after all. Dorian kept drifting off to sleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest giving him away. Every time, he would jerk himself awake and every time Orym would shush him and smooth out his hair to lull him back. After a while, Dorian slowly pulled away, and when Orym opened his mouth to object, he turned around to face him and opened his arms. When Orym playfully rolled his eyes, Dorian just shrugged and patted the empty space in front of him, which Orym gladly occupied. He enjoyed his time as the big spoon, but he would always feel more at home being held. They were the big sun and little moon, after all.
“So, when were you going to tell me about the dragon horse?”