Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Well, here we are!”

The voice of his Uber driver startles Dorian out of his daydreams and he looks out the window excitedly. The part of town he can see is just as picturesque as the town’s Instagram had shown it to be. He stuffs his notebook back into his bag and slides out of the car, ducking back in to grab the guitar case and make sure he didn’t leave anything else behind.

The older gentleman that drove him out here tugs his suitcase out of the back and sets it on the sidewalk. 

Dorian loads the guitar onto his back and goes to take the handle of the other bag. “Thank you so much.” 

“You sure you have a handle on that, son?” The driver looks uncertainly at the sidewalks and the lanky musician in front of him. 

“I got it, thanks.” Dorian grits his teeth, but gives him a charming smile and with a tug, begins wheeling it towards the Twin Flames Bed & Breakfast. After fumbling a bit with the door, he manages to wiggle and tug his way inside with the suitcase, guitar and himself still intact. He sets his bags down on a chair in the front hall and absently tugs his hair up into a bun, looking at the framed pictures along the entryway, smiling slightly at the history and happiness documented there. 

A scrabbling of feet and giggles and barks precedes the stampede that rounds the corner, as a pigtailed little girl chasing a beautiful irish setter carrying what looks to be a sandwich - or what’s left of a sandwich - crashes into him, sending him tumbling to the ground. The little girl and the dog both land on top of him and he instinctively wraps an arm around both, to make sure neither hits the hardwood floor under him.

“Hiya Mister!” The little one pipes up from the vicinity of his chest where he’s still trying to understand how he ended up on the bottom of a pile of dog and child.

“Hello?” Dorian replies, a little confused. The dog barks and slips out from under his arm, spinning in a circle and drops a slobbery half eaten sandwich on the floor next to him. Dorian makes a “yuck” face at the little girl and she giggles. He gets a knee to the stomach as she scrambles up too, Dorian sitting up with a soft grunt and making sure she’s steady beside him.

“Willow!” A husky voice comes from around the corner. “How many times do I gotta tell ya not to run in Miss Fy'ra’s house? You’re gonna get Ember all-”

An illegally attractive man, tanned skin and floppy brown hair, dressed in green plaid and mismatched socks appears around the corner and his sentence trails off at the sight before him and Dorian can feel a flush rising in his cheeks as he scrambles to stand.

“-riled up,” he finishes. Willow runs over and headbutts his knees, peeking back at Dorian shyly as the man in plaid leans down and picks her up. “Hey there, looks like you encountered the dual tornados, those two, I swear, nothing but trouble. Nothing hurt, I hope?”

Dorian shakes his head quickly, still a little speechless, before shaking himself and offering a hand out to the man he can now see is much shorter than his tall frame. “Dorian.”

The other man shifts the little girl to the other side and shakes his hand. “Orym. Nice to meet you.” 

As Orym pulls back, he nods his head to the little girl still burying her head a little shyly in his neck. “And this one is Willow, if you hadn’t caught that. The dog, wherever she ended up, is Ember.”

Dorian leans down a bit and waves slightly at Willow when she peeks out, causing a peal of giggles and another burying of her head. Orym just grins and shakes his head before frowning slightly off into the distance in thought. “Dorian…that sounds familiar.”

Dorian feels his heart sink. Maybe he should have booked under a different name here, he was trying to get away from all of the recognition and press.

“Oh! You’re Fy'ra’s guest!” Orym says suddenly. “No wonder you’re standing there, looking at me like I’m the idiot.” He laughs again. “She’s in the kitchen, grabbing dessert out of the oven. In fact she’s probably wondering where we’ve gotten to. Follow me.” 

Orym turns and walks around the corner and Dorian takes a moment to silently scream, checks his reflection in a picture frame quickly before following Orym through to the back of the house, under the watchful gaze of Willow over her father’s shoulder, ducking into the room after Orym, he’s suddenly aware of the wonderful smell becoming much stronger, cinnamon and sugar and apple and suddenly the protein bar he’d eaten for dinner is long forgotten. Silently, he wills his stomach to cooperate and not make more of a fool out of him in front of these new people. Dorian hovers in the doorway and watches Orym tuck Willow back into a chair with a booster seat at the cozy dining table.

“Fy'ra, I think your guest is here,” Orym calls over his shoulder dodging the pastel kid’s fork Willow had somehow gotten ahold of and was swinging around with airplane noises. “Hey kiddo, that’s for the pie, not me.”

Dorian tears his eyes away from the adorable sight of two of them and watches as a beautiful woman with fiery red hair and warm brown skin walks into the dining room, wearing an apron and carrying a pie. 

“Oh hello! I didn’t hear you come in, sorry about that. Looks like my welcome crew took care of you though.” Her smile is wide as she sets the pie down and hands a knife to Orym before coming to stand by Dorian, hand out. “I’m Fy'ra, welcome to my B&B, you must be Dorian. Please come with me, I’m sure you’re exhausted after a long day of traveling. Let’s get you settled in.” 

She sweeps Dorian back into the entryway, where she pulls out her reservation book and takes a look.

“Let’s see here, you are going to be up in the attic, which is much nicer than it sounds,” she winks at him before turning to get a ring of keys. “This key is for the front door and this is for the door on the right at the top of the stairs. The other door leads to my storage area, so you’re by yourself up there, unless I’m hunting for something. The little key on there is for the lock on the blue bike outside so you can get around town easier. We don’t really have car rental here and most folk bike, walk, or skate where they need to go, unless they’re hauling stuff, so you’ll be perfectly safe biking. Here is a map of the town, a list of emergency phone numbers for various circumstances, a list of community activities happening over the next month, and the proposed menu for the week. Please let me know if you have any dietary restrictions so I can accommodate you while you are here. Lunch is on your own but we do breakfast and dinner together, times are on the menu. If you’re going to not be able to make it, and would like me to save you a plate, just shoot me a text, darling.” She drops the keys and folder of information in his hands and looks to his bags. “Is that all you brought with you, dear?”

Dorian startles out of his wide eyed gaze at the flood of information and stumbles over his own feet to his pile. “Yeah, this is all I have.” He slings the bag and guitar on and grabs the handle of the suitcase.

Fy'ra looks at the guitar curiously for a moment before turning and heading through the doorway opposite the one leading to the dining room where he can hear happy screeches and low murmured replies floating through. They begin to head upstairs and he hefts his suitcase, thankful for the hours in the gym or this would have been impossible. Reaching the landing, Fy'ra unlocks the door with her master key and he follows her into the attic suite. He sets his suitcase down gratefully and looks around at the beautifully decorated room, thankful that for once, pictures on the internet weren’t a lie. When he looks back at Fy'ra, she’s got a curious look on her face.

“You’re stronger than you look,” is all she says, however, before pointing out the bathroom and explaining how to use the shower/tub combination and showing him where the extra towels are. “I’ll leave you to settle in. I just finished making a pie, you’re more than welcome to a slice if you’d like, just help yourself. The kitchen is yours to use unless I’m in there.” He nods, a little apprehensive and she laughs. “That was a joke, dear. Make yourself at home, just clean up after yourself. I would have saved you dinner, but I wasn’t sure what time you would arrive.”

Dorian unloads the bags from his back and crosses his arms. “Well, to be fair, I did arrive a little earlier in the day than expected.”

“Not to worry, feel free to explore the town - plenty of local cafés would love your business, I’m sure.” She slips out of the room and begins closing the door. “Holler if you need anything, dear.”

Dorian sits down on the bed and lets out a sigh, feeling the weight of all that happened today drop on him as he flops backwards onto the bed and stares at the ceiling. He’d given it all up today.  From here on out it was just him. He blindly searches for his phone in his backpack and turns it back on. Twenty missed calls from him . Delightful. He swipes those notifications away and sees a text from Cyrus.

Proud of you

A warmth blooms in his chest as he opens the message and types a quick response.

thanks. made it safely 

The typing bubbles appear almost immediately before:

good

The bubbles continue for a bit. Stop. Continue. And then:

i’ll handle things here. you figure you out wherever you are. 

Dorian lets his phone fall beside him, feeling a little lighter. He scrambles for his notebook and begins scribbling down lyrics.

Chapter Text

Orym smooths Willow’s hair out of her face and kisses her on the forehead before silently slipping out of the room and closing the door most of the way. He sinks into his recliner with a sigh and lets his head fall back against the headrest. The holiday season loomed in front of him and if he was being honest, he dreaded it. Sure the tree stand made him good money, but the long hours, the tourists, the memories - he sighs again. Pushing himself up, he pours himself a half a drink, and wanders past the wall of photos and takes a slow sip. Though thinking about it now, the sting of the last few Winter’s Crests has lessened to a dull ache this year, he realizes with a sad half smile.

“Hey there Will. It’s nearly your favorite time of year again,” he whispers to his wedding photo. His eyes glance over the photo of their family the day Willow was born. “Willow takes after you and your dad more and more every day, I swear. Neatly tackled some poor unsuspecting tourist after dinner tonight at Fy’ra’s. Loves that dog too.” He huffs out a small laugh and taps the glass against the picture frame holding a picture of Will and Willow in Orym’s workshop and tosses back the rest of the drink and sighs. “Miss you, darling.”

Orym settles in at his desk to go over the evening’s business, yawning and pulling up the baby monitor app on his phone to double check on Willow. Once he’s sure she’s sleeping fine, he looks back down at his work. Dariax will be in charge of the season’s first tree harvest in the morning. 

It was a Zephrah tradition that Orym’s mom had started long ago to take the business owners out on the first harvest to kick off the Winter’s Crest season officially and let them choose their trees at the Ashari Tree Farm & Mill. When Orym had asked Dariax to take charge this year, Dariax had actually teared up at the trust Orym was putting in him for this important occasion. Orym had just tossed an arm around his shoulders and squeezed him in a hug, telling him that he basically does all the other heavy work around here, what’s a tree hunt in comparison to all of that? 

The numbers and dates in front of him swim and Orym’s mind wanders to the handsome stranger - Dorian - that Willow had taken by surprise this evening. His reaction to the guy had surprised himself. He sees attractive people all the time, especially around this time of year, he doesn’t usually stumble all over himself awkwardly cringing internally at every word falling from his mouth. 

For some reason this particular tall, blue-eyed man had him tongue tied in a way he’d never been before. Orym sighs, dropping his pencil, and leans his head on his hand, fully giving into the daydream, because his hair! Spirits! It might be longer than Opal’s and it changes colors? Somehow? It was hard to tell with it up in a bun, but the messy pieces falling down, the dark to light, and that shy smile contrasting with the leather jacket and slim fitting jeans was the stuff of movie posters and crushes Will had always teased him about when they were teens. He can feel his face heating as his tired brain helpfully recalls the sensation of the hand that had clasped his in a firm handshake, the skin cool and soft. Orym looks down at his calloused and scarred hand, rough from years working the mill and carving. Whatever Dorian did, it didn’t seem to leave a mark on his hands. 

Willow makes a noise on the monitor and he snaps out of his daydreaming and back into reality, shaking his head at his ridiculousness as he heads back down the hall to her room and steps inside. She’s quieted back down in the seconds it took to walk back so he just tucks the blanket back in around her and watches her breathe for a moment. 

Giving up on getting any work done - and knowing Lita will yell at him for messing up her system if he does, he goes around, turning off lights, and checking door locks before going to his bedroom and going through his nightly routine before falling into bed. 

Morning comes early at the Mill.

____________________

Dorian had gotten lost in writing song lyrics before emerging over an hour later, carefully making his way down the steps and into the kitchen. Ember lifts her head with a small woof from where she’s curled up on top of a vent, stealing all the warm air. Dorian stoops down to scritch her head and she sighs happily. 

“You don’t happen to know where the plates are kept, do ya girl?” Dorian says to her, as her tail flops contently behind her.

“Top cabinet on your right.” Dorian jumps and whirls around at the sound of Fy’ra’s amused voice coming from behind him. “Sorry to startle you, dear. Did you get settled in alright?”

Dorian stands and brushes the dog hair off of himself nodding. “Yes, I think so, it’s a lovely suite. Just like the pictures.”

Fy’ra tuts and goes to serve him a giant slice of pie. “Well that would be Opal and Ted. They’re magic with a camera, I swear. They managed to convince the mayor we needed a social media presence and they work with the Blade girls making sure everyone’s websites are up-to-date and functional.” She slides the pie across the table to him. "Well, I say the Blade girls. They're all grown and married now with kids of their own. The Blade women."

Dorian nods like he knows what she’s talking about and quickly takes a bite, melting a bit at how good it tastes. He makes enthusiastic noises pointing at the pie and Fy’ra beams at him. Ember scoots not so subtly over to rest her head on his foot, hoping for any crumbs that fall her way, as Fy’ra continues chattering about how the younger generation has really helped make sure their little town stays with the technological times. 

“Even Mr. Anti-Technology himself, Orym, has a website of sorts. I think Lita managed to bully him into getting that running up at the mill for her own sanity.”

Dorian can’t help himself as his head snaps up at the mention of the man that he’d met briefly earlier, “Orym? Is that the gentleman that was here this evening? Is he not a guest here?”

A gleam lights in Fy’ra’s eyes as laughs lightly sitting down across from him. “Goodness no, he’s not a guest here. But yes, that was our Orym. He owns the Ashari Tree Farm & Mill up the mountain aways. He and his little girl join me for dinner most nights these days, unless he’s with his mom. Poor soul, can't cook a thing to save his life and after Will, well." She trails off, sadness dropping across her face. "I usually have more than enough and that little girl loves my Ember."

Dorian pushes his pie across his plate and tries to feign nonchalance. "You said he owns a mill?" Explains the plaid, his brain recalls helpfully. 

Fy'ra smiles knowingly. "Mmmm yes. It was his mom's before she retired and left it to him. It's been in her family for decades. He's an expert on trees and a master craftsmen when it comes to handling wood."

Dorian chokes on his bite of pie and refuses to follow that innuendo.

Fy'ra smirks. "He and Dariax build the sets for the winter pageant every year too. He also runs the tree stand with trees grown right on the mountain. In fact, tomorrow morning we officially kick off the holiday season when all the business owners go out and pick trees for their businesses." An even more mischievous light gleams in her eyes as she catches Dorian listening with thinly disguised interest. "You know what, I could your muscles tomorrow, if you're up for it."

Dorian's eyes go wide. "Oh, no - I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Oh you wouldn't be! In fact, having you there might keep people from fussing so much over me. Orym and Opal tried to convince me not to go this year on account of my fall, but that was months ago! I'm perfectly fine! Dariax and Blade girls managed to convince them otherwise. If I bring you along, you can do all the heavy lifting and Nell and I can just relax in the truck with the hot chocolate and supervise and Orym won't be fussing over me the entire time. You really would be doing me a favor, Dorian. Winter's Crest doesn't start without this tree hunt."

"If you're sure and if I can be helpful -

"Great! And you can spend a little more time getting to know our Orym!" She winks and he blushes, shaking his head watching her hop up from her chair, clearing his plate from the table with a spryness and agility that makes him feel he might have been hoodwinked. He grabs a towel to dry the plate with a knowing glare pointed at her that she ignores.

"So Dorian, what brings you to Zephrah so early in the holiday season?"

Dorian stills, trying to come up with a respectable half truth that doesn't give away his identity. "I, uh, needed an escape, to be honest. My job was getting to be too much and I needed a break?" He cringes as he turns to put the plate in the cabinet. 

Fy'ra laughs behind him. "Oh sugar, you're gonna need to work on that line if you want anyone to believe you."

Dorian sighs and laughs, turning back around, messing with the towel in his hands. "That bad, huh?" 

"Not the most convincing, no. But then again, it did take me a minute to recognize you, Mr. Wyvernwind." 

Dorian stills again and looks up panicked. 

"I don't know why you're here and I respect that you want your privacy and that's part of the reason I wanted to bring you along tomorrow, so the rest of us can make a plan to help you out. But I will warn you, Opal and Dariax are huge fans."

Dorian groans and slides down the counter burying his face in his arms. Ember whines and snuggles next to him, nuzzling her nose into him until he's basically hugging her. 

"Well, I take it you haven't spoken to either of them today." He mumbles from Ember's collar, before looking up at Fr'ra who's watching him patiently. "I made an announcement today. Then turned my phone off and ran away. Here. I'm using your town to hide from the media and press and everything until I figure out what I'm going to do next. And write music. But mostly to hide. Sorry."

"What sort of announcement, dear?" Fy'ra asks cautiously. 

"That I'm going solo. I'm working on an album by myself without my brother. Completely different than anything anyone's ever heard from me before."

"Oh goodness! Well that we can certainly handle. That must have taken a lot of courage to get to the point of change. I’m glad you trust our mountain to be your refuge while you build up more.”

Dorian nods slightly, letting his head thump back against the kitchen cabinet. “Didn’t feel courageous. I pressed post after I hopped on a plane, ran through the airport and hopped in an uber. My dad’s called me about 20 times, I think my mother is pretending I don’t exist anymore. Oh and I’m going by Storm now. Dorian Storm.”

Fy’ra pats his shoulder. “Congratulations then Mr. Dorian Storm on your new path ahead. You’re a full adult who gets to make his own decisions. Hand the phone to me next time your father calls and I’ll give him a piece or two of my mind.”

Dorian smiles weakly and buries his face in Ember's fur. "Thanks, I think I'll just keep ignoring him for now. He’s more upset about the fact that he won’t be making money off of me anymore or controlling every second of my life, I think. You and my brother are the only ones who are supportive so far. I've been afraid to look online."

Fy’ra gives his shoulder another squeeze. "Then it's settled. You're here for a reset, privacy, and inspiration on our beautiful mountain. And why shouldn't you be? It's the best around! The entirety of the Chamber of Commerce will be hunting Winter's Crest trees tomorrow, we'll be able to spread the word amongst all of us for everyone to just treat you like a normal tourist and you'll be just fine, dear."

Dorian feels his throat tighten with tears at her kindness and thoughtfulness as he stands up, clearing his throat and brushing the dog hair from his pants to disguise the hitch in his voice. "Thank you. I found this place by accident online and it just called to me. It was an unattainable paradise for so long until I needed to get away and you're already so much kinder than I could have imagined."

Fy'ra pulls him into a hug. "You're one of mine now, Dorian Storm and don't you forget it, anyone messing with you has to go through me first. Now, off to bed, we're leaving bright and early in the morning."

Chapter Text

“Morning Boss! Morning Half-Pint!” Dariax blows inside like the whirlwind of a man he is. Willow screeches out something resembling “Unca Dariax'' before waddling fast she can in all her puffy winter layers to his already outstretched hands. Her giggles and happy screams fill the warehouse as Dariax scoops her up and tosses her in the air, Orym’s heart stopping until she’s safely back in Dariax’s arms. He shakes his head. Menaces the two of them. Lita comes in, yawning, with a giant thermos and three mugs. 

“Morning Orym,” she says through the yawn and goes over to gently headbutt Willow’s pompom beanie and make her giggle. “Hey there sweetie.”

“Aunt Yeeta!”

“Mmm still working on those Ls, huh kiddo? Morning Dariax. I brought coffee to tide us over until Maeve’s hot chocolate arrives.” She quickly pours and passes out the mugs, takes a sip and lets out a satisfied sigh. She sees the folders in Orym’s arms and her eyes widen. “Tell me you didn’t do anything to the inventory last night…I have a system, Orym! That’s what you pay me for!”

Orym slowly puts the folders down and backs away, free hand not holding the coffee cup up in surrender, impish smile on his face. “No ma’am, I only considered it, I have learned to not mess with your genius. I was just taking a look.”

She glares at him for a moment, before looking over the papers quickly to make sure everything is still the way she wants it, sipping her coffee. “Fine. I am not mad at you today. Good job.” Orym and Dariax share a look. “I’m taking these away from you though! They’re going back in the office!” She stomps off.

“Close one, Boss.” Dariax smirks at Orym from over Willow’s pompom hat.

“Cwose one, Boss!” Willow mimics in her tiny voice. Dariax looks down at her, mildly alarmed while Orym doubles over laughing, trying to not spill his coffee.

“Aha, yeah that’s a new thing she’s doing. Gotta really be careful what you say around her now.” 

“Oh no…” Dariax trails off looking at the little angel in his arms like she’s a ticking time bomb, meanwhile her little face is looking at him like he’s hung the moon.

Still laughing, Orym slaps Dariax’s back and heads towards the sound of tires crunching the snow outside.

“NANCY! Your snow is still here! Ours melted further down the mountain in town,” Opal hollers from inside the Jeep. Orym shakes his head at the nickname and waves. She hops out and gives him a hug. Ted climbs out of the back and gives him a quick hug before going to the passenger side to help her very pregnant wife out. 

Opal stage whispers while making a ‘don’t ask’ face, “Maeve insisted on coming. It was a whole thing. The goodies are in the back.”

Orym nods and waves to the two other vehicles making their way up the drive. He and Opal load up and head into the warehouse where Dariax is setting chairs out with one hand where Willow is directing him to with her little mittened hands and his heart warms a bit. Life is good. 

“Orym, you get over here and hug me or I’ll get grumpy.” Maeve’s voice knocks him out of his daydreaming.

He sets the food he’s holding down and dodges the chair Dariax is carrying, making a silly face at Willow as he passes so she’ll scream-laugh in Dariax’s ear and stands in front of Maeve, giving her and Ted a quick once over. They both look tired. He leans down and hugs her. “Hey there Sis. How’re you feeling?” 

Maeve holds him tightly for a moment. “We had a long night. But I wouldn’t miss this for anything.” She looks at him intently. “How are you doing?”

Orym looks around as his mom walks in with Derrig and Nell and waves at them before looking back to Maeve. “I’m doing pretty good honestly. It doesn’t sting as much this year, I realized last night.”

Maeve squeezes his hand and smiles sadly. “I was telling Ted the same thing last week. And then I cried for an hour thinking that meant I was forgetting him.”

Orym smiles and squeezes her hand back. “Healing, not forgetting.”

He slips back over to the crowd and grabs a donut and refills his mug with hot chocolate and watches his daughter get fussed over by both grandmas and granddad. 

Dariax slides up next to him. “Hey boss, we’re just waiting on Keyleth, Fearne, Barony and Fy’ra,” The both look at the door where three women are walking in and waving hellos to folks. “Scratch that, we’re just waiting on Fy’ra and then we’re ready to go. I’m gonna wrangle your father-in-law to start tossing blankets in the truck beds so we can get this show on the road.”

Orym claps him on the shoulder. “Thanks Dariax. You’re doing great, man.”

Dariax ambles off towards Derrig and points out back to the trucks. Derrig nods, passes Willow to Nell, waves at Orym and follows Dariax out to the back. Orym gets a hug from behind and smiles.

“Hi Ma.”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Millie leans her head on his shoulder. “Chilly one out today. Perfect for a tree hunt.”

“Sure is. Dariax has been frantically checking the weather all week afraid of rain.”

She laughs and starts heading over to where Willow is clumsily trying to show Nell her dance moves, still bundled in all her winter gear. “Poor boy. You be sure and tell him he’s doing a great job.” She calls over her shoulder.

“I will, Ma!”

The crunch of tires heralds the arrival of Fy’ra and he grabs another cup of hot chocolate for her and heads out to meet her. Taking a sip of his own, he chokes on an inhale seeing the hot tourist he’d been daydreaming all evening about step out of the car and rush around, slipping a bit in the snow to open Fy’ra’s door. Coughing the chocolate out of his lungs, he blinks a few times and - yeah he’s real and walking towards him and wearing, well he looks great, but he doesn’t look warm , this guy’s probably never been out in the snow long and Orym is staring. He coughs again and tries to pull himself together as he walks out to meet them, waving slightly. 

“Morning Fy’ra,” he calls out. He briefly makes eye contact with Dorian and can feel himself blushing, hoping the cold masks it as they meet in the middle and looks back to Fy’ra who looks way too pleased with herself. “I, uh, only brought one chocolate with me. Didn’t realize you had a guest with you.” 

“Well, I just brought along some extra muscle, that’s all.” Fy’ra winks and takes the hot chocolate from him. 

Dorian makes a sound of protests before clicking his mouth shut and looking between the two of them. 

Orym sighs. “Did she make up some story about me fussing over her?”

Dorian nods, wide-eyed, mouth resolutely shut. Oyrm nods quickly and knowingly. “Fy’ra, you can’t just go around conning people like that, we have plenty of help around here and I’ll fuss over you if I want to fuss over you, so there!”

Fy’ra’s eyes twinkle as she sips her hot chocolate innocently.

Orym groans and tugs his hat off and runs his hand through his hair, looking over at Dorian when he makes a strangled noise. “Oh man, where are my manners? I’m so sorry, let's get you out of the cold. You really need better gear, man. That stuff is for looking good, not for staying warm. C’mon follow me. We’ve got hot chocolate inside. Do you even have gloves? Here take mine.”

He slips off his gloves and shoves them in Dorian’s hands, grabs his arm and ushers him towards the warehouse out of the cold wind, reaching back to grab Fy’ra’s hand as well and pulls them both into the warehouse. 

“Orym, before we begin, there’s something we need to discuss. An informal meeting of the Chamber, if you will.” Fy’ra says as they step out of the cold.

“I’m telling you Dariax, he posted it yesterday and then nothing!” Opal is standing next to Dariax and they’re both looking at her phone. Oyrm feels both Fy’ra and Dorian freeze beside him. Dorian jerks away from him and turns around, walking back out into the cold. 

Fy’ra sighs. “That’s what I need to talk to everyone about. Why don’t I handle this, you get that boy some proper clothes. He barely knows what snow is, the poor dear.” She walks off, calling everyone over to her, leaving Orym standing there incredibly confused. The wind picks up and howls outside and he remembers Dorian is out in it. He double checks where his daughter is at - looks like her Aunt Barony has her now and slips outside to wear Dorian is huddled against the wind, eyes shut, hair trying desperately to escape the bun it’s in. Orym shoves his hands in his pockets and goes to stand in front of him.

He calls over the wind. “Hey, I’m not sure what’s going on, but Fy’ra is handling it. She’s really good at that. Come with me and we’ll get out of the wind.” He starts walking to the office building, looking back over his shoulder to see if Dorian will follow, heart doing a funny tap dance when he does. Orym unlocks the door and holds it open for him, pulls it shut behind him, shivering at the sudden heat of the office. 

“Whew, that's better.” He tugs the door a second time, to make sure it latches and turns around, bumping into Dorian who hadn’t moved very far in. “Ope, sorry. Let me just. Slip past ya there.” Orym brushes past him, noting absently how incredibly good he smells and heads for the closet in the back where they keep extra clothes around in case of emergencies or sudden inclement weather. “So, uh. Like I said, I don’t know what just happened but Fy’ra is handling it. We’re in here to get you warmer clothes so you don’t turn into a popsicle out there.” Dorian is just standing there and Orym knows he’s rambling but the silence in this cramped office building with an attractive man is honestly too much. He continues, halfway inside the closet, looking for one of his father-in-law’s old coats that might fit the much taller man. “The wind’s picking up out there, in fact I think it might snow more later-”

“I’m Dorian Wyvernwind,” Dorian interrupts.

Orym turns around, coat in his hands. “Ooookay? Nice to meet you? Again. I’m Orym. Uh, here.” He shoves the coat at Dorian. “This should be a little warmer than the coat you have. If I were you, I’d layer.” He turns back around and digs in a box and comes back up with a hat and scarf and a pair of gloves, and looks at Dorian’s slightly dumbfounded face still holding the coat. “I wasn’t kidding, I think it might snow again. You don’t have anything under those jeans either do you?” Dorian looks down instinctually before looking back up questioningly at Orym who is now beet red and burying his face in the scarf in his hands. “I meant thermals. Sprits , phrasing, idiot.”

Dorian smirks and pulls the end of the scarf so it unravels from Orym’s hands and he looks up at him. “It’s alright, and no I don’t. It’s pretty safe to assume I don’t know how to dress for the cold. You really don’t know who I am?”

Orym looks at him with a very thoughtful face before making a face. “I really hope I’m not offending you here but no. I have no idea who you are other than the guy my three year old tackled yesterday.”

Dorian laughs and leans against one of the desks, and pulls his hair down and begins braiding it. “No, no offense at all, in fact more of that would be preferred. I’m in - was in - a band. With my brother. The Wyvernwind Brothers.”

Orym nods thoughtfully for a moment, trying desperately to pull any coherent thought together other than “Pretty! Hair! Pretty hair!” before, “Oh! Opal! Dariax! Yeah! They went and saw a concert of yours. It was all they talked about for months, I swear. Getting Dariax to do any work around here was near impossible. Sorry about that. I don’t really listen to much music these days that isn’t Disney. Dad life, you know.” 

Dorian just laughs and shoves the hat on his head and wraps the scarf around himself. “That’s fine. I came here to get away from all of it. I think that’s what Fy’ra is talking to all of them about, she figured me out last night.” He puts the borrowed gloves back on and does a jaunty spin. “Well, do I pass?”

Orym takes the opportunity to look and everything from the way the jeans shift over muscular legs to the borrowed coat to one of Orym’s old hats and scarves with the braid pulled over one shoulder shifting slowly from a jet black at the root to white at the tip looks dangerously good from where he’s standing. He blinks. “Yep, you’ll do, city boy. C’mon, let’s see if those goofballs I call family left us any donuts.”

Dorian forces himself to move, thankful for the brisk wind on his face after the heat of Orym’s perusal. The vain part of his brain takes the slightest victory in the fact that he seems to have a similar effect on this man. He’d nearly inhaled his tongue when Orym had taken his hat off earlier, running his hands through his hair, implied he looked good, and being all protective. And now? Wearing borrowed clothes that were admittedly much warmer and following him through the snow back to the warehouse, giving a half smile at him every time he looks over his shoulder to check on him - this man spells trouble. He didn’t see a ring but he has a daughter and he may just not wear jewelry and that doesn’t mean he’s not committed elsewhere and Dorian really is only here to focus on music. He really needs to get his head together and stop letting his heart get all fluttery around this guy.

Orym steps into the warehouse in front of him and the little girl in question is more of a walking bundle of cloth with a pompom on top as she waddles over to Orym excitedly. His traitorous heart immediately forgets the pep talk they’d just had on the way over here as it swoops and warms watching Orym’s entire face light when he scoops up his little girl and is hugged by an older couple inside. Dorian steps in behind him and the entire warehouse hushes. He ducks his head and considers running again but feels a tug on his sleeve. Looking up, Orym is pulling him over to the table with the food like there’s nothing wrong or a bunch of eyes on them. 

“Donut?” Orym offers.

“Donut!” Willow chimes in helpfully and he can’t help but smile back and take the donut.

Fy’ra sweeps over. “Now Dorian, don’t you worry. I’ve explained it to everyone here, and they’re fully onboard with helping you maintain your privacy and whatever amount of anonymity you need while you stay with us. Your picture won’t be on any of our socials, certainly won’t be on the town’s socials and we’ll do everything in our power to redirect general town interest elsewhere if someone does catch on.”

Dorian feels tears pricking at his eyes again as he looks around the warehouse at the kind and understanding faces of everyone gathered and nods gratefully. 

Fy’ra continues, “In fact, we’ve all been given pictures of your previous inner circle, thanks to our resident super fans. If we see any of them around here, they get polite service and quick scoot out of town. No answers as to your whereabouts, motives, current projects, or future plans from anyone.”

Dorian clears his throat a few times. “Thank you.” His voice breaks and he doesn’t attempt to say anything else, just swipes at his eyes. 

Fy’ra pats his cheek. “It’s like I said yesterday dear. You’re one of mine now. And getting to you means going through me, means also going through them.” She pokes a thumb behind her at the gathered crew. “And they’re tough as the mountain they come from.”

Dorian nods again.

“Sad?” Willow questions beside him patting his shoulder. 

Dorian smiles at her. “No, no! Happy! Miss Fy’ra is really nice.”

Dariax pops his head into the warehouse. “Alright kids, pop star or not, these trees ain’t gonna hunt themselves! Let’s load up!” He points at Dorian. “New guy, you’re with me - and not just cause you’re pretty, I gotta make sure you don’t drop an axe on your foot, those fancy city boots ain’t steel toe. Maeve! I got the truck running already and it’s nice and toasty. You’re with me too. Everyone else, it’s a fight to the death for heated seats, everyone else gets truck beds and blankets. Ready? Go!” 

Dorian watches with utter fascination as the group of people who’d been politely chatting and teasing each other, begin to rush pell mell towards the back entrance, some sprinting out the bigger front entrance and slipping through the snow and disappearing around the corner out of sight. Soon it’s just him, Orym and Maeve left in the warehouse with faint shouting coming from the open back door.

Maeve goes to heave herself up, and Dorian offers an arm to assist. 

“Oh thanks!” Maeve pats his arm and continues walking with their arms entertwined. “I’m Maeve. If you hadn’t put that together. You’ll probably get everyone else by the end of the day, but Orym is my brother-in-law, Derrig and Nell are my parents, and Ted is my wife. Those names are probably meaningless to you right now but once you get everyone you’ll at least have some context.” Dorian blinks a few times before giving up trying to piece together any implications as Maeve continues, “You and I are special this year, we have reserved seating in the cab so we don’t have to be a part of the bloodbath outside, but don’t get used to it. Next year, if you stick around, you’ll have to fight for heated seating or you’ll be in the truck bed with the rest of the hooligans.” She gets a far-off look in her eye looking over at Orym closing the donut boxes. “My brother somehow always managed to get a seat in the cab. I never could figure out how he did it. Of course it all made sense once we found out about his crush on Orym, since Orym was always driving one of the trucks. Oh how we teased him.” Her voice gets a bit wobbly. “But that’s neither here nor there.”

Dorian begins piecing together family units in his head, realizing with a thump in his heart that Orym was really married - honestly Storm he’s got a little girl, what did you expect - and wondering where this guy is now when they reach the trucks. Dorian helps her into one of the front passenger seats before looking around and not seeing an empty seat he begins to head back to the truck bed. 

Dariax sees him walking back and grabs the back of his coat. “Hold on there, fancy pants, you’re up with me. C’mon.” Dorian follows him curiously and realizes there is a space for him in the middle of the bench seat and he slides across, smiling at Maeve. 

Dariax hops up next to him, reaches across him, grabs the walkie talkie from the dash and clicks it. “Heyo Nancy, it’s Tharla Starr. You got your ears on?”

Dorian looks at him like he lost his mind but Dariax just grins at him. Maeve is just shaking with laughter next to him.

Orym’s voice comes over the radio. “10-2 Tharla. All's well on my end and we’re ready to roll.”

Dariax’s grin gets even wider. “10-4 Nancy we’re rolling out, yeehawwwww!”

Chapter Text

The morning had been a chaotic blur of happy conversation and shouts across the forest as various members of the town chose their trees and cut them down, tying their marker to them and piling them on the trailers of the trucks. Dorian had never been so cold or so happy in his life. He’d been introduced to so many people he couldn’t hope to remember any of their names or how they were connected to anyone. 

Now the trucks rumble to a stop at the warehouse that the adventure had begun and everyone piles out again, he begins helping to unload the trees and move them to the proper vehicles. Once the trees are all secured, he sneaks a glance over to where Orym is directing people like a conductor at a symphony. It had been a thing of wonder to watch him all morning out among the trees come alive, Willow on his hip, cold reddening their noses, and masterfully controlling the chaos while making it seem like Dariax was the one in charge. 

“Dorian!”

He shakes himself out of the daydream and moves over to Fy’ra who is talking with Nell and Millie. She tucks an arm through his. Dorian looks uneasily between the scheming faces of the women standing around him.

“What’s up?”

Nell and Millie exchange a look and smile. 

Millie leans in, “We were thinking that we haven’t had time to catch up with Fy’ra in a while and we’d love to take her to lunch-”

Nell pats her arm and continues, “and Orym is going to need an extra set of hands this afternoon to get the first set of trees cut for the lot. He can drive you back to Fy’ra’s when he brings the trees to town.”

“Oh, okay-”

The three ladies cheer and Millie calls out to Orym, “Orym, dear!”

Orym jogs over, and Dorian tries to control his heart palpitations, there’s no need for something as simple as a jog through the snow to be so attractive. “What’s up, Ma?”

“We’ve got you a helper for the afternoon!” Millie gently shoves Dorian towards him and blows a kiss. "We're off to lunch, see you later, dear!"

Orym looks confusedly at the three women waving goodbye to him.

“Right." Orym looks up at him. "Are you sure? I can find someone else to give you a ride into town?"

Dorian nods and flashes a quick smile, "No I'm good. I'd like to go with you. To the forest. For the trees. I like them. The trees." He winces, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath, trying again. "The forest was a very calming place to be, and I'd like to join you out there again."

Orym smiles and claps his shoulder. "Me too. Give me just a minute to see everyone off and get Willow buckled back in and we can head back out.”

Dorian watches him walk over and help Maeve into her car and nearly get tackled with a hug from Opal. Crunching snow makes him look over and see Derrig approaching him. He holds out a hand and Dorian shakes it.

“It was good to meet you, Dorian.” 

Dorian nods, “Thank you for allowing me to interfere with your lives for a little bit.” He lets his eyes go distant and takes in the trees around them. “This has been one of the best days I’ve had in awhile.”

Derrig follows his eyes. “Well, I was impressed with how you just jumped right in today.” He pokes at Dorian’s shoulder. “You’ve got some muscle on you kid, but be ready to be sore tomorrow. You likely don’t work these muscles in the gym.”

Dorian laughs and stretches a bit. “Yeah I can feel it already, but I’ll be alright. Sore means you did something.”

Derrig’s eyes shoot to his face and a sad smile crosses his face. “Yeah. Yeah it does.” He clears his throat. “Hey listen, I know Fy’ra threatened us within an inch of our lives if we mentioned it, but I just wanted to let you know. Takes a lot of courage to do what you’re doing with the music and the band thing. Don’t let yourself convince you otherwise.”

Dorian can’t stop his look of surprise, but Derrig just smiles at him and pats his back before looking around. “Now, did you see where my wife ended up at?”

Dorian blinks and gestures at Fy’ra’s car leaving. “Lunch.”

Derrig narrows his eyes at the retreating car. “Rude. Guess I’ll just eat a sandwich and open the store on my own.” He pouts comically. “Maybe I wanted to have lunch with Fy’ra. Nobody asked Derrig.”

Dorian tries to hide his smile as Orym walks back up carrying Willow on his shoulders. 

“What’s got you all pouting?”

“Your mother and Fy’ra stole my wife from me for lunch.” Derrig pouts even more and Willow giggles above them.

“Eh, you’ll survive,” Orym winks at Dorian. “C’mon Dorian, trees are waiting. See you later, Derrig. Oh! I’ve got some sketches for you to look at.”

He reaches for Dorian’s elbow and tugs him gently towards the car. Dorian quickly follows and waves behind him.

“Yeah, uh, good to meet you Derrig.” 

Derrig waves back at Dorian, looks between him and Dorian who is now smiling up at Willow and enthusiastically examining the pinecone in her hand and cocks his head in confusion. Then he looks in the direction the women had disappeared to and remembers how the three of them had been whispering all morning. “Ohhhh, I get it.” He whispers to himself before calling out. “Have fun boys! Keep an eye on the weather, snow’s on the wind.”

Orym waves at him, buckles Willow in and hops in the truck. Dorian is humming to himself, looking out the window, tapping out a beat on his knee. Orym listens for a moment, entranced by the gentle voice, reminded that this guy sings for a living. He shakes his head quickly and grips the steering wheel, questioning how his day got so weird. He’s about to go cut down trees with a pop star. Telling himself to get a grip, he turns around and hands Willow her lunch before turning to Dorian again. “You ready?”

Dorian startles out of the world he was lost in and nods quickly, reaching for his bag and pulling out a notebook, scribbling something down quickly and continuing to tap the pencil against it as the truck rumbles up the mountain again.

Orym glances over when Dorian circles something and draws an arrow up. “You writing something?”

Dorian looks up sheepishly. “Yeah sorry, the songs never really stop. I discovered a while ago that if I just write it down and get it out of my system then it’ll stop running circles in my head.” He shakes his head and reaches for his bag. “It’s very rude, I’m sorry. I don’t usually spend time with actual people. It’s usually just me and my brother.”

Orym shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me any. It’s your job. Just cause it doesn't look like mine doesn’t mean it’s rude.”

Dorian stops trying to shove the notebook in his bag. “Oh. Yeah I suppose I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Do you usually, sorry I don’t really know anything about music at all, but do you write the whole song at once or just bits of it at a time?” 

Dorian leans back, spinning the pencil around his fingers. “Depends on the song, really. Sometimes it just all comes out at once. Others I’ve only had a single line written for years.”

Orym’s eyebrows raise. “Oh wow that’s gotta be frustrating.”

Dorian shrugs. “It can be. I don’t want to force it. It also can depend on the album and what tone we’re trying to set. What the label will allow us to do. I’ve got a few songs that may never see the light of day,” he shakes his head. “Well. They were probably never going to ever see the light of day before I left. There’s a chance now.”

Orym nods. “Huh. Never thought about that.” His eyes dart over to Dorian again and he grins. “Are you saying my trees inspired you?”

Dorian flushes but he nods. “It’s so peaceful and wild and clean and chaotic. I’ve not really spent time in the forest before but yours is just. Like a sanctuary.” He blushes even more and ducks his head. “Sorry. That’s what I was writing just now - I’m a little too poetic at the moment.”

The truck comes to a stop and he dares to look over to Orym. He has a stunned look on his face. 

“Orym? Did I overstep?”

Orym clears his throat and shakes his head. When he shifts to look over at Dorian, there’s a sparkle of tears in his eyes that he tries to blink back. His voice is hoarse, “No, no at all. I just.” He looks back to where Willow has peanut butter and jelly smeared all over her face. “I’d never heard it described that way before and you’re right.” He smiles at Dorian and Dorian can see a blush creeping up his face. “I have to admit to not ever hearing your music before, but if it’s all as beautiful as that, I really need to go check it out.”

Dorian, stunned, looks down at his notebook and back over to Orym. “Well, I, uh. Thank you.”

The corner of Orym’s lips lifts in a small smile and he turns the truck off and slips down out of the truck and around, exclaiming in a silly voice over the mess that is his daughter as he helps attempt to clean up the stickiness. Dorian climbs down and just takes in the scenery, breathing the cold, pine-scented air deep and feeling at peace again in the stillness.

That stillness is broken by Willow’s happy screech at the cold and the snow as she pushes her way through the drifts to get to Dorian and begins pulling him around. Orym watches as Dorian easily watches over Willow, making sure she doesn’t wander too far off and is enchanted with everything she picks up to show him. Obviously, Dorian has spent time around little ones before and Orym smiles at that mental image. He grabs his ax and heads in the opposite direction of the pair of explorers.

They spend the next few hours with Orym chopping trees down, Dorian keeping an eye on Willow as she "helps" by gathering fallen twigs and branches and pinecones and helping Orym load the fallen trees onto the trailer. Eventually Willow starts slowing down and comes over to Dorian and leans her head on his leg with a big sigh. Dorian looks down and sees her little eyes drooping and that Orym is still cutting at a tree. He leans down and picks her up. She immediately snuggles into him and leans her head on his shoulder. As his heart explodes with how adorable she is, his mind immediately races with new lyrics and he hums, dreaming up lines about a snow princess and her little empire of forest creatures. He feels her go completely limp as she falls asleep. 

Orym calls out a warning and steps back as the tree begins to fall down in front of him. As the snow settles he sees Dorian a safe distance back holding Willow and absently picking up branches and putting them in the basket. As he gets closer, he sees that Willow is snuggled in close and completely asleep and he smiles. 

“I see my daughter managed to con you into mobile nap time,” Orym says leaning against the ax and wiping the sweat off his forehead. Dorian turns around and smiles, perfectly content with the bundle in his arms. 

“Hope it’s okay, she was starting to droop.”

Orym just laughs lightly. “Nah it’s alright, we missed nap time anyway. It’s just- she used to not sleep if we weren’t moving. She’ll sleep anywhere now, but she’ll still conk out faster if someone is walking her around. The fact that she managed to con you into it within a day of knowing you is kinda funny to me.”

Dorian picks up the full basket with one hand and Orym boggles for a minute at the guy’s strength to be holding both Willow and the basket of thick branches without even grimacing. Dorian heaves the basket into the back of the truck and starts tying it down with one hand.

Over his shoulder, Dorian says, “Oh I don’t mind, really. Some of our crew and band members have had kids recently and while we were on the last tour, I usually was the one that could get them to sleep. My brother has a picture of me somewhere with our drummer’s kid strapped to my chest completely zonked out and drooling on my shirt and our production manager’s toddler on my hip and I think I’m in the middle of trying to instruct the venue host to actually listen to the production manager instead of speaking over her.” 

Orym’s smile gets bigger as he pictures it. “Well, I’m sure that angelic voice of yours singing lullabies doesn’t hurt either.”

Dorian grins. “It is the secret weapon, for sure.”

The wind picks up and Orym squints up at the sky and frowns. “Let's get this last tree in and head back. I don’t like those clouds.”

Dorian lowers Willow into her carseat and buckles her in, tucking the blanket around her and heads over to the tree. Orym checks over his work, impressed, and drops a kiss on Willow’s forehead. Ducking back out of the truck, a snowflake falls past his face and he frowns again, hastening over to Dorian and the two of them haul the tree to the trailer and begin tying the trees down. The snow is seriously falling faster now and the wind is whipping it around.

They both stumble back to the truck and hop in, shivering. 

Orym gets the engine going and leans his head against the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, I should have paid closer attention to the sky.” 

Dorian’s face crinkles in confusion. “Orym, you can’t control the weather. It’s okay. I trust you.”

Orym looks up at him, stunned and takes a moment to breathe. “Alright. This is going to be slow going.” 

He begins easing the truck back down the mountain, sliding where patches of ice had already formed, regaining traction on the snow and neither of them barely daring to breathe as they creep forward, the snow obscuring the entire world and shrinking it down to this truck and the trees that surround them.

Eventually the truck comes to a slow stop in front of what Dorian assumes is Orym’s house. He can hardly see it in the blowing snow and looks over to Orym who lets out a sigh of relief, resting his head on the steering wheel for a moment. Dorian lets out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and unclenches his hand from the door handle. 

Orym takes a deep breath and squints up at the house. “Okay. Here’s a plan. The garage is around the back. I’m gonna give you the key to the front door. Can you take Willow inside while I pull the truck around?”

Dorian looks back at where Willow has managed to sleep through the entire drama of the ride home, tucked cozily under her blanket, utterly unaware of the stress the adults around her have been under for the last thirty minutes or so. He holds out his hand. “Yeah, I can do that. But how will you get in?”

Orym smiles tiredly. “I know this property like the back of my hand. I’ll find the door. Trust me.”

Dorian frowns at him, still hesitating. 

Orym puts a hand on his arm and squeezes. “Dorian, I already tied the guidelines weeks ago in case we got an early blizzard like this, I’ll be alright. I’ll just be coming in a different door.” 

Dorian looks out to the swirling snow getting stronger and nods. “If you say so.”

Orym unclips his key from the keychain and hands it to him. “Get my little girl inside, I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Dorian grips the key in his hand, feeling it bite into his skin, takes a deep breath and opens the truck door, gasping at the cold wind and sharp snow hitting his face. He jumps out and ducks his head, slamming the door shut behind him and grunting at the cold. He runs up to the door, slipping on the snow and with shaking hands manages to unlock the door and crack it open. He slips his way back to the truck and opens the back door and climbs up and hands the key back to Orym before slipping the blanket down gently and unbuckling the seatbelt. Willow stirs a bit in the cold, face scrunching grumpily and he shushes softly, humming the melody that’s been running in his head all day. He scoops her up to his chest, wraps the blanket around her and backs out of the truck, bumping the door shut and carefully moving through the snow, cradingly Willow’s head into his neck with his hand. 

He steps inside and closes the door, leaning against it, letting the warmth of the cabin wash over them both for a moment. Willow starts fussing against him and he moves a little farther into the entryway seeing a bench. Sitting down, he maneuvers around the half awake Willow still clinging to his chest and pulls his boots and wet socks off. He shrugs out of his coat and lets it fall behind him before beginning to take Willow’s wet things off as well, leaving it all in a pile in the entryway. Willow snuggles in closer as he walks them further into the house, finding a living room ahead with a couch and recliner. Dorian attempts to lay Willow down on the couch but she whines and curls her fingers into his shirt even tighter.

"Okay, okay, sweetheart. Let me just. Find a blanket?" He looks around quickly. "Where's your dad keep the blankets, princess?" A small snore is her answer and he smiles and holds her closer. Out of the corner of his eye he spies a basket of blankets in between the recliner and couch and grabs one, shakes it out and sinks tiredly onto the couch, letting the blanket fall over them, situating Willow to lay on his chest, arms around her protectively and resting his head on the arm rest.

That's how Orym finds them ten minutes later after securing the trees and truck in the garage and stumbling through the now - blizzard, following the lines he'd thankfully had the foresight to tie up already. Shivering, he strips off his wet outerwear in the kitchen and comes around the kitchen corner and stops short, seeing Dorian fast asleep on the couch, Willow curled up on his chest, blanket tucked around both of them. 

Orym leans against the wall, feeling his heart do that swooping thing it’s begun doing recently as they sleep peacefully. The urge to join them is so strong his feet move to the couch before he stops himself and instead crouches down beside, watching Willow smiling in her little dreams, nuzzling into Dorian's chest more, Dorian's arms tightening reflexively around her as he stirs awake. He looks down at Willow, then looks around confused before seeing Orym and relaxes.  

"Hey," Orym whispers, a soft smile crossing his face.

He watches Dorian's eyes trace over him quickly, making sure he's not hurt before smiling back. "Hi. You made it in."

Orym shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. "Told you I would." He nods down where Willow is snuggled into Dorian's shirt. "Looks like you’ve been designated personal snuggle buddy."

Dorian smiles sheepishly and begins to sit up, holding her lolling head in place. "Yeah, I didn't want to wander too far without permission and she was still cold from outside. Plus she started fussing when I tried to put her down. Didn't mean to fall asleep, but this couch is really comfortable and it's really cozy in here."

Orym smiles. "Yeah she's a possessive snuggler. Here, let me see if I can take her."

He leans in and feels Dorian catch his breath as Orym scoops Willow and the blanket from Dorian’s chest, fingers brushing against his chest to untangle her fingers from Dorian’s shirt. "I'm gonna put her to bed, I'll be right back. Feel free to wander around, there’s no way we’re getting to town tonight so, my house is yours." 

Dorian manages to get his breathing back under control after Orym disappears down a hallway with Willow. The nearness of him had taken him by surprise and he'd made a fool of himself enough already today - getting worked up over a simple touch when he needs to spend the entire night here simply isn’t going to work. He gets up, stretches and wanders over to a wall of pictures and feels a pang in his heart taking in the clearly displayed history of his host. There was a teenaged Orym with teenaged versions of the triplets and another boy he doesn’t recognize that looks remarkably similar to Derrig and the three women he’d met today, but as his eyes trace over other pictures it's very clear this mystery man was very important to Orym. He smiles at the collage of wedding photos and quickly gleans a love story beginning as friends in their childhood and culminating in romance as they grew up from the pictures on the walls and then the addition of Willow, but then the pictures only have Orym and a growing Willow in them and his heart shatters, recognizing the lingering sadness in the entire town that was centered here on this little family. He’s met everyone on this wall except him, and the implications have his throat tightening as tears prick his eyes. 

"His name was Will," Orym’s voice is creaky with emotion and exhaustion. Dorian pulls his eyes away from the wedding photos to look at him. Orym walks over and stands next to him, looking at the pictures with a faraway look in his eye. "He was a wildland firefighter. Forest fires. Drought was bad the year Willow was born. He didn't, uh, he didn’t make it home."

"Oh Orym-" Dorian's voice breaks at the wobble in Orym’s voice. 

"It's funny because. The sting. It's not nearly as bad as it's been in years past," Orym says. "And yet. I find myself thinking 'Oh Will's gonna get a kick out of this' or 'I can't wait to show Will when he gets back' and then I remember he's not coming back." He sniffs and blinks the tears back and shrugs. “Grief is a funny thing. I miss him, but…” He trails off. Reaching out for the picture frame that has Will and Willow in it he laughs a little. "He'd have liked you, I think. Anyone who was immediately willing to take orders from his little girl was alright in his book."

Dorian isn’t sure what to say to that and instead just says, “You grew up together?” 

Orym nods and wipes at his eyes. “He was my best friend.”

They stand there another moment until a bit of melted snow drops down the back of his shirt out of his hair and he shivers. 

Orym slips away. "Oh you're probably freezing still. Let me get you something to change into." He disappears down the hallway and returns a few moments later with some clothes. "There's a bathroom here, or my guest bedroom is across the hall. Up to you. Bring your wet stuff out here and we'll toss it in the dryer."

Dorian changes quickly and can’t help but laugh at the clothes meant for a shorter man riding up comically high on his lanky form. He pulls the thick socks on and sighs happily as his toes finally feel warm for the first time since morning. He undoes his hair so it will dry, finger combing through it. Sliding his socked feet on the hardwoods like a child, he sees Orym in the kitchen staring forlorn into the freezer, and skates in to join him. 

Still looking into the freezer, Orym says apologetically, “I don’t have much to offer in the way of food. I’ve been banned from cooking after the last few incidents went poorly, so Willow and I usually eat at Fy’ra’s or at my ma’s or with Will’s parents.”

Dorian joins him, “I’m alright at it. Or I'll at least not poison us if I attempt it. Want me to take a look and see?”

Orym looks over at him and does a double take before snorting and quickly clapping a sweater covered hand over his mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. I-” he smothers a giggle. “I knew you were taller than me, I just didn’t realize how much taller.” 

Dorian is also smirking and does a little twirl, showing off the pants that are several inches too short. “Yeah, I was laughing at myself in the bathroom.” He completes a circle and strikes a jaunty pose against the doorframe that demonstrates how the shirt raises up significantly with the slightest arm movement. Orym’s eyes are immediately drawn from the swirl of Dorian’s loose hair down to the muscular abdomen revealed by the shirt riding up, the skin looks warm and smooth save for the faint trail of hair disappearing into the waistband of the too small pants. The muscles flex and disappear as Dorian pushes off of the doorframe and the shirt falls back down and he wanders further into the kitchen.

“Can I take a look? Maybe I can pull something together.” 

Orym blinks and swallows, suddenly dry mouth not forming words and scrambled brain not forming thoughts. Gesturing to the door, he gets himself a glass of water and drains it. Dorian is searching through the refrigerator and freezer and the shirt is riding up again, this time giving a view of muscular lower back and when he bends over Orym has to turn around and take a deep breath, bracing his hands on the counter. Ogling his houseguest’s backside is incredibly inappropriate, he’s sure. The man is criminally attractive and the hair is simply too much and Orym scolds himself one last time before turning around and seeing Dorian with a box of individual pizzas smirking at him knowingly with a slight blush. 

“Pizza?”

“Yep!” Orym squeaks, coughs, clears his throat and goes to the pantry. “I think I have some wine in here too, if you’d like?”

In short order, they have pizzas microwaved, wine poured and are sitting in the living room. Orym gets a fire going in the fireplace and curls up on the floor next to the coffee table. Dorian has his long legs sprawled out under the table as well, leaning up against the couch, sipping the wine and running his fingers through his hair. 

He lets his head fall back and closes his eyes. “Gods I can’t remember the last time I had pizza and wine for dinner.” He laughs deep in his chest. “Probably before the last tour, honestly. I think Cyrus snuck out and got pizza and I snuck the wine in and we ate on the roof.” He snorts and shakes his head. “Dad went ballistic when he found out.”

Orym frowns around his bite of pizza. “Why? Were you underage or something?”

Dorian scoffs. “No pizza and wine was on the list of forbidden foods.

“Oh.” Orym puts his pizza down, looking at Dorian.

Dorian ducks his head and picks at his pizza. “Yeah, my dad is kinda an asshole.” 

Orym picks up his wine glass and swirls it around watching the liquid roll in the glass. “My dad left when my ma found out about me.”

Dorian looks over at him. “Oh wow. It was just you and your mom running this place?”

Orym nods and smiles proudly. “Yep. Ma ran a tight ship around here. Derrig helped out. He kinda did Dariax’s job and Nell ran the general store. Will and the girls were always over. He was the closest thing I had to a father really. Then when Will and I got married - well he and Nell just have always been there.”

Dorian smiles sadly. “It was always Cyrus and I. My older brother, Cyrus. My dad is our manager and he just can’t deal if he’s not in control of every aspect of everyone’s life. Cyrus tried to block most of it from me but it’s like trying to plug a dam with bubble gum.”

Orym nods and raises his glass. “To asshole fathers.”

Dorian huffs a laugh and leans over, clicking his glass to his. “To the ones who stepped up instead.”

They sit in peaceful quiet, finishing their dinner and wine. Orym can feel his filters dropping and knows he needs to get to bed before he says something stupid.

“Dorian, I want to thank you again for your help today and for making sure Willow was alright.”

Dorian frowns in confusion. “Of course, Orym. I was more concerned that I’d find you frozen out there two days from now.”

Orym blusters for a moment before falling silent again. The wind outside howls and he winces and leans his head against the couch. "It was getting really bad out there. You were right to be concerned. I miscalculated.” He stands up, wobbles a bit. “I’m gonna head for bed. You know where your room is? Don’t worry about dishes, we’ll deal with them tomorrow. I don’t know that we’ll make it to town tomorrow either, so feel free to sleep in.” He begins walking towards the hallway, pausing and looking back. “Goodnight, Dorian.”

“Goodnight Orym.” 

Chapter Text

Dorian wakes up to pat on his face. Opening his eyes, he looks around the unfamiliar room quickly before seeing Willow standing by his bed, patting his face. Last night falls into place and he remembers the blizzard. He smiles at the little girl, her brown curls all messy from sleep. 

“Hi,” he whispers.

She giggles and whispers back, “Hi!”

Dorian sits up onto his elbow and looks at his door. “Where’s your dad?”

She pouts. “Sleep.”

He makes a face at her. “How boring.”

She giggles and reaches for his hand and pulls. 

"Okay, okay," Dorian laughs and tosses the covers off, following her down the hallway to the kitchen. "Breakfast?" 

"PANCAKES!"

"Oh! Hm. Okay." Dorian looks back down the hallway to where Orym had disappeared last night. "Hope your dad doesn't mind me taking over his kitchen." He starts opening cabinet doors, searching for various things he needs to make pancakes with, pulling out his phone to look up the recipe he uses when Cyrus is having a bad day. There's a missed call from an unknown number and a text from the same number

Dorian, it's Fy'ra. I just was calling to check on you since you didn't come in last night and no one has heard from you or Orym. Please let us know you're okay. 

He saves the number to his contacts and redials, putting it on speaker. 

"Dorian? Is that you? Are you alright?"

Dorian locates the pantry and gives a small fist pump. "Yeah we're all okay Fy'ra, sorry for worrying you. We hunkered down at Orym’s last night."

"HIIIIII!!!!" Willow says from the floor.

"Oh heavens, Millie, they're fine. Hello Willow, dear! Millie, tell Nell they're okay, Derrig doesn't need to go out there. My goodness you boys had us worried, we were about to send a search party up. Derrig has his boots half on. Oh, Millie’s over here now let me put you on speaker.

Hi Dorian! I called off the search party, are you sure everyone is okay?"

Dorian pulls out ingredients and hands the lightweight ones to Willow, who happily carries them beside him back to the counter. "Sorry, sorry. We had a bit of a stressful drive back and it was pretty bad at that point. Lil Bit here didn't even wake up through the whole thing and by the time we got inside, Orym and I were exhausted. But no, we're fine. Orym is still asleep I assume. Her Royal Highness woke me up and has requested pancakes-"

"PANCAKES!" 

"-so I'm trying to figure out Orym's kitchen."

There's silence on the other end of the line and then two sets of feminine giggles. 

"Now Willow, you be nice to Mr. Dorian."  

Millie's voice is still filled with mirth.

"Hi Grandma!!"

"Hi sweetheart. Well we'll let you two get back to your cooking, we're glad you're safe."

As the call ends, Dorian locates a couple of pans that look like they'll work and puts them on the stove. Picking up Willow, he sits her on the island opposite the stove, away from any heated elements, and pulls one of his hair ties off his wrist, scooping her hair up gently into a ponytail. He does the same to his, twisting it into a messy bun.

The two of them start dumping ingredients into a mixing bowl and creating a pancake batter, Dorian patiently explaining what everything is and letting Willow "help" by giving her the measured ingredient to pour into the bowl.

Orym wakes up to voices in his house and freezes before remembering the events of the night before. Then stumbles out of bed realizing Willow must have woke Dorian up instead of him. He makes his way down the hall to the kitchen and stops, watching as Dorian helps an intensely concentrating Willow pour milk into a bowl. She gives a huge smile, celebrating with her whole entire self and Dorian smiles back, steadying the bowl she nearly knocked over and picking it up to stir it. 

"Alright, now we just gotta cook them!" Dorian says to her, putting the bowl next to the stove, far away from her reach and turning the stove on. 

"I do it!" She chirps from the island. 

"Ohh I don't think that's such a good idea, how about you watch me?"

Orym can see Willow starting to pout and decides, as adorable as the scene in front of him is, it may be time to make his presence known. 

"What's going on in here?" He asks, smiling as Dorian whirls around and Willow waves from the island counter she’s sitting on still. 

"Pancakes, Daddy! Pancakes!"

She throws herself off the island into his arms and he laughs, holding her tight. "Pancakes? Oh wow, that's fancy." He looks at her hair, tied up in an expert ponytail. "Wow, so is your hair. Man, dad needs some lessons, huh? Mine don't ever turn out that good do they?" He walks with her into the living room and pulls out a couple of her favorite toys. "Why don't you play here while I help Dorian get pancakes going, okay?"

Willow grabs her doll and begins swinging it around happily and Orym slips back into the kitchen. Dorian already has a pancake made and Orym slips in past him, and leans against the counter near him. Dorian looks over at him and smiles quickly before focusing back on his pancake. 

"Did she wake you up?" Orym asks quietly. 

Dorian smiles and nods, looking over to where Willow is building a tower with blocks. "Yeah, she said you were sleeping."

Orym winces. "Sorry about that."

Dorian shrugs and flips the pancake. "No worries, I didn't mind. Took me a minute to figure out where I was though." He nudges the plate with the pancake to Orym. "Try that, see if it's any good." 

Orym shakes his head smiling as he reaches for the still warm pancake. "I don't remember the last time we had a guest - if ever - so this is all very new to her, she’s very excited." He tears a piece of pancake and pops it in his mouth. His eyes go wide and he moans before he can stop himself. "Spirits, that is good!"

Dorian flushes. 

Orym blushes too but smiles and offers a piece to Dorian, who cautiously leans down to take it, lips brushing Orym's fingers despite his best efforts. Orym's eyes darken as he inhales sharply and he can't stop the finger that brushes across Dorian's lower lip to catch a rogue crumb, taking in the way Dorian's eyes go glassy and unfocused, each of them drawn in by the other’s magnetic pull.

The spell is broken by Willow screeching as she knocks down her tower with the fury of Godzilla. Dorian turns back to the stove, red faced, heart racing and flips the second pancake onto the plate. 

Orym clears his throat and moves to the refrigerator, scratching at the back of his neck. 

"Can I, uh, do anything to help?"

"Well this will be done soon. Anything you'd like to go with it, syrup. Fruit, or whatever you have." 

Orym gets the table set and coffee going as Dorian continues cooking. Dorian, sneaking glances over to Orym, still rattled by the moment from earlier and utterly charmed by the still sleepy appearance of the other man, hair sticking up in places, sliding around his kitchen, mismatched socks of different colors this time, soft t-shirt layered with a flannel acting as a jacket. 

Dorian turns back and catches the pancake in front of him just in time before it burns. 

Orym slides over to him. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please. Pancakes are ready."

Orym hands him a mug and heads for the living room. "I'll get the gremlin."

"I'm not a gremlin, I'm a monster!" Willow insists and Orym helps her pick up blocks. “I march around tragically!”

"Same thing, pumpkin."

Breakfast is a messy affair. Willow manages to get syrup and pancake bits all over herself and Orym. Dorian is just happy his meal turned out alright.

“Oh, Frya and your parents called me. They were concerned about us.” 

Orym’s eyes go wide and he rushes over to his coat he’d left on the floor last night. Digging through the inner pockets, he pulls out his phone. Multiple missed calls and texts from people. “Oops,” he says sheepishly, rounding the corner again.

Dorian smiles. “Derrig was about to lead a search party.”

Orym winces, and hits redial. The call connects. “Hi, Ma.”

After reassuring her that everyone is fine, he hangs up and grabs a washrag, cleaning Willow up best he can while Dorian begins gathering up the dishes.

“Oh Dorian, please don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of the dishes after I get the munchkin cleaned up.”

Dorian pauses with the pile of plates in his hands. “Oh I don’t mind, really.”

Orym picks Willow up. “Seriously, you cooked. I’ll clean.”

Dorian puts the dishes in the sink and raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, thank you.”

Orym heads down the hallway as Willow waves. “We’ll be back in a bit. If we survive the bath monster.”

Dorian snorts and waves back at Willow. Banished from dish duty, he briefly considers doing them anyways but instead wanders into the living room and spies the piano he’d noticed last night. He debates for a moment but grabs his notebook and phone and takes a seat, pulls up his recording app and runs his fingers over the keys, hesitating. 

He takes a deep breath and begins playing the melodies running through his head the last few days, humming along, starting and stopping and starting again until he has the right notes under him. After a while, his song about a snow princess and her little empire has taken on more than just an idea in his head, it has a melody that reminds him of Willow’s laugh echoing across the snow in the forest. He stops the recording app and grabs a glass of water, clears his throat and switches to a different song beginning the recording again. He already has lyrics for this one and sings softly while he plays, grimacing with a huff when a wrong note strikes, or a word doesn’t fit and experimenting until it smooths into something better. A song of peace and tranquility, finding sanctuary in the snow and pines, warmth in a cabin, love from a stranger forms completely for him and he stops, stretches, cracks his neck and begins again from the top. 

The bench creaks as a freshly clean Willow climbs up beside him as he continues to sing and play. He looks over at her and smiles. She’s holding a bear and watching him, utterly entranced. As the song comes to a close, he lets the notes fade out a moment and stops the recording, Willow is still watching him. 

“Wow!” she says, leaning into him. 

“Yeah? You like it?” He asks and feels her nod against his ribs.

“Aw thanks, Willow,” he brushes her curls out of her eyes. “Do you want to hear more? Or did you need me for something?”

“More!”

Dorian presses record again and plays the little melody he’s started writing for her, carefully watching her to get her reaction. Her eyes light up and she wiggles next to him. This one is much shorter and unfinished and when it comes to a close, Willow claps her little hands together. Dorian laughs and turns off the recording.

“You like that one too? I don’t have words for that one yet.” 

Willow crawls into his lap and reaches for the keys. 

“Ah you wanna play too. I see.” He scoots her down to his knees so she can reach better and puts her fingers on the keys, helping her play a simple run by pressing her fingers down under his. 

Orym had almost stopped Willow from interrupting Dorian but she’d just quietly joined him and he’d taken it in stride, continuing with the song he’d been singing. He’d suddenly been reminded of their conversation in the woods yesterday - Dorian is used to having kids around while he’s making music. Orym leans against the doorframe and takes in the song, recognizing elements of what he and Dorian had talked about in the truck yesterday. Letting the music sweep over him, he sees his daughter equally as entranced. He really shouldn’t be surprised - the man makes a living doing this and his speaking voice is warm and smooth enough to melt butter, of course his singing would be lethal. Orym drags his hands down his face telling himself to get a grip and goes into the kitchen starting on the dishes, listening as the music in the living room changes to a lively, lilting melody that makes his heart pang and feels hauntingly familiar. When that one fades out, he finishes the last dish and is drying his hands when he hears small scales being played hesitantly. Curious, he pokes his head around the corner and melts against the counter when he sees Dorian carefully balancing Willow on his knees, one arm around her to steady her, the other helping her put her fingers on the piano keys and play notes. 

He watches as Dorian switches them from scales to a simple little melody. Willow’s little face is crinkled in concentration and as they finish the little tune, she breaks out in a huge smile, twists around and launches herself at Dorian to give him a big hug. Dorian’s laugh and his daughter’s giggles wash over him and his heart catches, feeling a rightness about the scene in front of him that is confusing and new. 

He stumbles back into the kitchen and braces his hands on the counter and takes a deep breath. He’d barely begun wondering if putting himself out there would even be possible before Dorian came along and now his heart seems to be fully on board with this handsome stranger with a beautiful voice. His mind reminds him, however, Dorian isn’t sticking around long-he shouldn’t be allowing his heart to get as attached as it rapidly had. 

Giggles from the living room pull him from his thoughts and back around the corner to see Dorian is now laying on the floor, piano abandoned, and Willow is trying to build a block tower on his belly, but he keeps slowly breathing and causing the tower to fall over while she’s laughing like mad beside him.

Orym ducks back into the kitchen. Well, crap.

Chapter Text

Dorian spends the rest of the morning building towers with Willow, reading picture books out loud, more towers, and eventually staging a particularly fierce and intricately choreographed and directed fight scene between her bear and doll. Orym pops in and out of the living room carrying boxes and leaving them stacked inside. Just as the fight scene is coming to a close (the bear and the doll deciding they’d be a stronger force if they worked together), Orym comes in from outside, bringing a chill with him and a large tree.

“Willow! You ready to decorate for Winter’s Crest?” Orym calls from the entryway. 

Dorian jumps up to help him wrestle the mighty tree inside, getting it set up where Orym directs, Willow hopping around clapping excitedly nearby. Orym laughs at her antics and turns on some music, and begins opening boxes so that Willow can pull out decorations and begin placing them all over. 

Dorian smiles, watching Willow very carefully place a Winter’s Crest themed pillow onto the couch, step back, consider it a moment, adjust it, step back, clap and skip back to the box to do the whole process again with its mate.

Orym hands him a bundle of lights and begins untangling the free end while Dorian holds the mess, shaking his head. “Some days it’s spooky just how much like Will she is.”

Dorian rotates the mess around to help and peaks over at where Willow is now laying out stockings, patting at the wrinkles. “He liked to decorate?”

Orym snorts. “He loved it. Couldn’t get enough of it. I have boxes and boxes of stuff I don't have the foggiest idea what to do with because he had all of the plans for it and usually I’m doing good just to get the tree up.” He pulls and the lights unravel a bit more. Dorian rotates his blob again, hoping he’s being helpful. “He’d decorate for every season, but this was his favorite time of year. Our place always looked like a craft store exploded in it. He’d look forward to the tree hunt for weeks and barely sleep the night before.”

Dorian smiles at the mental image. “Maeve said they could never figure out how he always got the cab seat with you, didn’t make sense until they realized he was crushing on you.”

Orym blushes and fumbles the lights. “Ah well, I learned after we got married that my Ma always gave him a heads up when she was about to send us to the trucks and which truck I was driving, so he had the best chance of sitting with me. She and Nell had us figured out long before we were willing to risk our friendship over our feelings.”

Dorian laughs, “That’s incredibly sweet.”

The lights finally come untangled and they both whoop as they head towards the tree and begin wrapping the lights around it, Dorian utilizing his height to get the upper branches and Orym ducking underneath his arms to get the lower branches.

“Whew, that is so much quicker with a tall person around!” Orym grins at him and Dorian smiles back.

“I wouldn’t know, we’re usually not in one place long enough for a tree or the staff have already decorated by the time we get home so, first time.” 

Orym looks at him. “You’ve not decorated a Winter’s Crest tree before?”

Dorian shakes his head and Orym tuts, heading for the ornament box. “Well, my friend, it’s high time you did.”

____________________

Dorian now sits in the glow of the lights placed on the tree, listening to the sound of Orym doing dishes after dinner. He’d been banished from the kitchen - since he did the cooking, Orym insists on doing the dishes. He sits back down at the piano, playing Willow’s melody quietly from before but adding in the bits that have been chasing around his thoughts all day. He experiments and allows himself to fully immerse into the music, going where the notes want to go. He opens his eyes to see Orym standing beside him, watching. He stops suddenly.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly.

Orym looks horrified that he interrupted. “No, no please continue, you weren’t disturbing anything. Besides, it’s not like I’m using that piano for anything.”

Dorian runs a hand over the keys gently. “It’s beautiful.”

Orym blames his boldness on the wine they’d had with dinner and sits next to Dorian on the bench. “It was my grandma’s. My grandfather got it for her on their twenty-fifth anniversary.” He runs a finger along the detailing in the wood. “My mom played when she was younger, but I didn’t really have any interest in learning.”

Dorian had nearly jumped out of his skin when Orym sat beside him, the piano bench now seems incredibly small, their thighs pressed against each other, shoulder brushing with every breath. Now, he takes in Orym’s profile as he reminisces, the bump of his nose, his ridiculously long lashes, hair flopping into his face as he looks down. Dorian’s fingers twitch with the impulse to brush it out of his eyes. 

Realizing what Orym just said he takes a breath, “Do you want to?” Orym turns to look at him and he’s so close, Dorian can see the faint freckles on his nose that must have faded in the winter, he gets momentarily distracted by the way the lights sparkle in Orym’s mossy green eyes before clearing his throat and remembering to finish his sentence. “Learn, that is. How to play?”

Orym’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and ducks his head, “Oh no, I’m not musically inclined.” He looks up at Dorian again briefly through his lashes. “I do enjoy listening to you play though, please don’t stop on my account.”

Certain that Orym can feel his entire body blushing, Dorian stammers and turns back to the keys, “Oh well, if you’re sure. Um, I have a song, just an instrumental at the moment, it won’t leave me alone - like it’s begging to be written. If you don’t mind listening to that?”

Orym nods, and Dorian pulls out his notebook and pencil and begins playing the familiar playful melody from the morning. Orym closes his eyes and lets the music wash over him, peace and familiarity filling him, Dorian’s arm brushing against him as he plays, his voice humming where a lyric would go. Dorian occasionally stops and repeats a section before writing something down and continuing on, before starting the entire song over and playing it all the way through. The final notes linger in the air and Orym can’t bear to bring himself to break the silence that follows.

Dorian chances a look over at Orym and the awestruck look on his face is better than any verbal compliment he could have ever received. He lets the silence linger for a moment before dropping his hands in his lap and whispering, “The melody came to me while watching Willow play in the forest yesterday.”

Orym looks over at him surprised.

Dorian ducks his head and smiles a bit remembering, “I had this mental image of a winter princess running her snowy domain as she was bossing me around out there and her laughter formed a melody and the rest just came from there.”

Orym stands suddenly and stumbles a few steps back, turning away from Dorian, a hand coming to cover his mouth. Dorian’s heart sinks as he buries his head in his hands calling himself every version of stupid before jumping up and reaching for Orym’s arm.

“Orym, I’m sorry, that was way too presumptuous of me-”

He’s cut off by the force of Orym hugging him tightly. His arms flail at the sides before coming to rest lightly around Orym’s back. He tightens his grip when he feels Orym's tears soak into his shirt. They stand like that for a minute, Dorian absently rubbing Orym’s back until Orym pulls back a bit, swiping at his face with his sleeve. 

"Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying,” Orym whispers. 

Dorian catches another tear with his finger. “It’s okay. Did-Was it the song? It doesn’t ever have to go anywhere, I can stop working on it.”

Orym grips his shirt tighter. “No! I mean, yes, the song is perfect and you captured Willow perfectly and I think that’s why I’m a mess. But please, don’t ever hide your song. It’s beautiful.” He blushes and steps back, curling up into his recliner. “Could you play it again?”

Dorian’s eyebrows raise. “You want me to-oh okay!” He sits back down and takes a deep breath and begins playing, softly singing the lyrics he’s half formed in places. He finishes and turns to look at Orym, eyes closed, tucked under a blanket in his recliner, a soft smile on his face.

“I don’t know how you did it, but it’s her,” Orym says, opening his eyes and smiling. 

____________________

Orym wakes up to his alarm early the next morning and sits up, running a hand through his hair and stretching. Squinting at his phone, he sees that Derrig had texted to let him know the roads in town had been cleared. If they took it slow, he could probably get Dorian back to Fy’ra’s this morning and drop off the first load of trees they’d gathered at the lot. Unfortunate. 

He drops his phone in his lap and sighs. Unfortunate? Why does that make him sad? How did he get so attached so quickly? 

He flops backwards with a groan - he really needs to get out more if this is his reaction to the first man he takes an interest in since Will.

He shoots back up to sit up straight. Takes an interest in? He’s just fully admitting that now? Reaching behind him blindly for his pillow, he buries his face in it and screams for a moment before flopping backwards again. 

What is he, sixteen? 

Steeling himself, he hops out of bed and gets dressed quickly and heads over to Willow’s room. She’s still sleeping soundly. He tucks the blankets back in around her and exits quietly and bumps into Dorian, who is sleepily leaving the guest room. His hair is in a loose braid that’s falling out and he’s in the middle of a yawn when Orym crashes into him. Dorian’s arms catch him as Orym bounces off of him and they freeze for a moment looking at each other, startled and then to Willow to see if they woke her up. Orym rights himself and firmly ignores the feeling of Dorian’s strong arms around him while quietly closing Willow’s door halfway. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he whispers as they sneak down the hallway.

Dorian waves him off. “I wasn’t either. It’s fine.”

Orym starts making coffee as Dorian yawns again, grabs a blanket and curls up in a kitchen chair, looking out the window. He hides a smile in the cabinet at how cute it is watching the long-limbed Dorian fold up into a blanket-wrapped ball at his kitchen table, trying to convince himself to wake up. 

“It stopped snowing.” Dorian sounds surprised.

Orym hands him a steaming mug and holds his own close, leans against the counter and snuggles into his flannel even more. “Yeah, Derrig texted this morning, said the roads in town had been cleared pretty well. If we take it slow we can get you back to Fy’ra’s and deliver the trees to the lot this morning.”

“Oh.” Dorian looks down into his cup. “That’s, uh. Yeah, that’ll be good. I’m sure you’re ready to have me out of your hair.”

Orym’s heart sinks at Dorian’s forlorn tone and he slides into a chair next to him. “No! I mean. I just. You’re here on vacation for relaxation, not here for tree chopping chores and babysitting my kid and cooking meals for us and being stranded without all of your stuff. Don’t get me wrong, you being here has been great and Willow certainly loves having you here, but this wasn’t what you signed up for.”

Dorian smiles over at him hesitantly. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

Orym reaches out a hand and covers Dorian’s. “You aren’t. I promise.” He pulls back and walks back into the kitchen to grab some cereal and milk. “I’m just sure you’ve got better things to be doing than hanging around here with us.”

Dorian looks out the window again and quietly says, “Not really. Being here with you two has been some of the best days I’ve had in a while.”

Orym stops fussing with cereal boxes and takes in the pensive look on the man in front of him. He’s still wrapped in the blanket and has a death grip on the coffee cup but is looking out the window at the snow covered trees like they hold the answers to all of his life’s problems. Dorian manages to pull his eyes away from the window and catches him staring, but just ducks his head and stares at his coffee again. 

“I can’t thank you enough for your willingness to share your home. And your family the other day. And your-” his voice breaks and he grits his teeth looking out the window again. A moment passes and he whispers, “It just means a lot, Orym.”

Orym gets it. How many times has he sat in that very chair asking the trees outside for the answers to his problems? How many times has he broken down at that table, overwhelmed by life and the kindness of the people around him? He sets breakfast on the table and rests a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, squeezing it briefly. 

“Of course, Dorian.” He pulls away and tucks his hands into his shirt, staring out the window. “I know we’ve just met, but if you ever need anything, you’ve got me. I know what it’s like to have your entire world shaken and to stare out at nothing and ask ‘What now?’. So if you ever need me, I’m just a call away.”

Dorian looks like he’s about to say something, but is interrupted by a sleepy Willow padding her way into the kitchen and leaning her head on Dorian's knee, looking up at him. He puts down his coffee and brushes her hair out of her face.

“Good morning princess. Sleep well?”

She nods and pulls herself up into his lap, snuggling inside of his blanket and leaning her head on his chest, drifting back off again. Dorian sits there, arms still slightly akimbo, stunned and looking wide-eyed at Orym who’s frozen with his coffee halfway to his mouth. Orym’s crooked smile grows bigger watching Dorian gently wrap the blanket and his arm around her and reach for his coffee again. 

“Seem’s like she’s chosen her new favorite,” Orym teases. Dorian smiles quickly, shifting so he can reach the table easier and eat his cereal.

“I suppose so.” 

After convincing Willow to wake up and eat in her own chair, Dorian finishes eating and finds his own clothes folded neatly in his bedroom. Orym must have washed them yesterday when he wasn’t paying attention. Feeling a bit more like himself again, he quickly folds his borrowed clothes, straightens the bed and heads out to the hallway where Willow is apparently waiting for him holding a brush and a bag of bows and hairties. 

“Help.” Willow looks very serious. 

Dorian laughs and takes the brush. “C’mon let's figure out your hair, huh?”

They walk into the living room and he sits on the couch with her standing in front of him and starts gently combing through her hair so he doesn’t snarl any tangles. She sways back and forth slightly, humming while he works.

“What do you want me to do?” Dorian eventually asks, once he’s got all of the tangles out. She points at his hair that he’d braided to one side for easy winter gear wearing.

“Okay, I’ll do my best, your hair is a little shorter.” He starts french braiding her hair, watching carefully to see if he’s pulling too tightly, remembering how he and Cyrus had both gotten in trouble for crying when their mom did their hair so tightly their eyes would water. He finishes off the braid and is handed a bow that he ties on the end as well. She runs down the hallway and into the bathroom. He can hear the sound of the stepstool in there being scooted across the floor followed by a gasp and a clap and the pattering of feet as she runs back into the room and tackles him in a hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you!”

Orym comes out of the hallway, jamming a hat on his head and sticking his wallet in his pocket. “Willow, sweetheart, where’s your brush, we gotta-”

“Daddy look!” Willow twirls in a circle way too fast for Orym to actually see anything before wobbling, dizzy. The braid holds, Dorian notes with some satisfaction. 

“Oh wow, fancy again huh? Did you thank Dorian for his help?”

She nods very seriously. 

“Awesome, let’s get your coat on, we’re gonna go see Grandma, okay?” 

As Orym wrestles the jacket onto her, he mouths a ‘thank you’ to Dorian. “Do you have everything? I’ve got the truck heating up right now, once we’re bundled we can head into town.”

Dorian grabs his bag with his notebook and phone. “I’m good to go!”

Orym picks up Willow and throws her over his shoulder while she giggles. “Great! Let’s get this show on the road!”

After a brief stop at the door to put boots on, they all trudge out into the snow, Willow perched securely on Orym’s shoulders. Dorian stops for a moment, taking in the scenery around him that he hadn’t had an opportunity to see before when it was nearly white-out conditions. The air is still and cold and he can feel his cheeks reddening from the bite of it but he can’t bring himself to care. It’s all just so beautiful. Orym crunches up next to him.

“You okay?”

Dorian flushes even more. “Oh, yeah. I was just checking out the view. You have a tiny slice of heaven here, Orym. I’m jealous.”

Orym grins and those green eyes stop examining him for something wrong and instead survey the property as the wind puffs small showers of snow off of treetops and the clouds drift lazily in the sky.

“Yeah, I’m a little partial to it.”

Dorian catches his arm again. “Thank you, again, for sharing it.”

“Anytime Dorian.” That crooked smile is too charming, his excitement in being outdoors is too infectious, his eyes are sparkling too green in the snow-bright morning and Dorian catches his breath and ducks his head. He is in way too deep now.

“S’cold out here.” Is all he says though turning back to the truck and hopping in, kicking as much snow off of his boots as he can.

Orym hands him his phone and Dorian looks up at him curiously.

“Play me one of your songs.”

“What?”

“Play me one of your favorite songs. I wanna hear your stuff but I wanna know what your favorite stuff is.”

Dorian laughs but resigns himself to the fact that he’s never not going to be blushing around this man and starts scrolling through Spotify. 

“Alright, let’s rock and roll!” Oyrm claps his hands and the truck rolls forward.

“Rock and Roll!” Willow pipes up from the backseat.

Dorian puts on one of his and Cyrus’ lesser known songs and Orym turns up the volume as they begin the drive into town.

____________________

They make it into town without any issues and by that point, Dorian has discovered that Orym doesn’t know how to use Spotify and spent the majority of the trip making a playlist for him to listen to and finding Dorian’s private account and making Orym’s account follow him so that Dorian can share playlists with him later. 

The truck rumbles to a stop in front of Fy’ra’s B&B and Dorian hands Orym’s phone back to him, loathe to leave the warmth of the truck and the companionship of Oyrm and Willow.

He rubs his hands on his thighs. “Well, this is me. Um. I’ll see you two around?” He goes to open the door but Orym catches his arm. 

“Did you put your number in?”

“Hmm?” Is Orym asking for his number? Orym shoves his phone back to him, open to a new contact as Dorian fumbles the phone, trying to not drop it. “Oh, uh no I didn’t.”

Orym motions for him to put in his contact information. “In case you need anything, remember?”

“Oh right,” Dorian says, and quickly types in his info. Just in case he needs anything. Orym can take care of him. Not for any other reason. He hands the phone back. “Thanks again.”

He turns around and holds out a fist for Willow to bump with her little one. “See ya later kiddo.”

He hops out of the truck and hustles inside, pausing at the door to wave again before slipping inside and shivering. Slipping off his boots, he sneaks upstairs and into his room, flopping onto the bed with a groan. Why is he so awkward? His phone buzzes next to him. He has a text from an unknown number.

This is Orym :)

He immediately saves the contact to his phone and responds back.

Hey

Then promptly wants to throw his phone across the room. 

‘Hey’?! He spends an entire day with this man in his home with his adorable child, begins writing songs for both of them against his better judgement and the best he can come up with is ‘Hey’? 

The typing bubbles pop up for a moment before an image comes through. Willow is pouting, a little teary eyed, looking out the window of the truck with her arms crossed and the side of Orym’s wincing face frames the left side of the picture.

Someone didn’t quite understand that her new best friend doesn’t live with us permanently now.

Awwww poor thing.

In the privacy of his own room, Dorian fantasizes for a moment, wondering what it would be like if he did live with them permanently. Music and laughter and warmth and joy and support - for the first time Dorian not only feels like he’s had a taste of what a home should be like but there’s an ache in him now. He rolls over on his stomach, hugging a pillow to his chest looking at the picture again. He’d dated in the past, sure, but it had all been publicity arrangements by his father. He’d never felt a need to settle down and think about a family, gods knew his family was messed up enough and getting involved with him romantically usually meant more trouble for a partner than Dorian felt he was worth. But as his eyes look over the little girl that effectively stole his heart over the last day and her father who could very well make off with what is left of his heart without even trying, he wonders what it would be like to devote himself to being a husband and father rather than the perfect son and artist. 

Heart racing, he closes his eyes and breathes. Space from Orym, that’s what he needs. To not make a fool out of himself. His hands twitch and he grabs his guitar, sighing in relief to hold it again and begins playing.

____________________

Orym waits to make sure Dorian gets inside okay before pulling up the contact information he’d just put in. He huffs a small laugh at the storm emoji Dorian had put instead of his last name but leaves it and opens a new text.

“Where is Dorian?”

“He’s inside, pumpkin. This is where he’s supposed to sleep.”

“Dorian not coming home?” Her voice is confused and getting wobbly. 

Orym turns to look back at her. “This is his home. For now.”

“No! Fy’ra home for dinner and Ember.” 

Orym sighs. “Fy’ra sometimes has people stay with her like Dorian stayed with us. This is where he is sleeping.”

“He stay with us.” 

“Pumpkin, he can’t.”

“He can! He stay in my house!”

“Willow, this is his house for now, Fy’ra has a place for him.”

“No!”

“Willow, baby, he doesn’t live with us, he was just visiting.” Willow is fully crying now and Orym sighs letting his head fall back against his headrest. Then he remembers, “Willow! Guess what?” 

She hiccups and sniffles. “What?”

“We’ll see him for dinner! Fy’ra is going to be cooking dinner for him too. You can save up all the things you wanna tell him and tell him at dinner, okay?”

She frowns and looks out the window. “Okay,” she grumbles, crossing her arms.

Orym hopes it’s settled and turns back around, resting his forehead on the steering wheel a moment. He opens his phone back up and finishes sending a text to Dorian’s number so Dorian will have his. Dorian texts back almost immediately and Orym pulls up his camera, and takes a quick selfie, angling the camera so he’s barely in frame but Willow can be clearly seen pouting out the window.

He sends the image and taps out an explanation of Willow’s broken heart over Dorian not actually living with them before tossing his phone in the passenger seat and driving off towards the tree lot. His traitorous brain helpfully supplies the image of the three of them at breakfast this morning and Dorian helping him get Willow ready before leaving the house. The thought of that being forever is a little intoxicating and he pushes that from his mind quickly. 

It’s just because Dorian was in his space for the last few days, that’s all. Space to recalibrate is what everyone needs.

Taking in the sights of his home covered in the snow of the last two days as he drives through, he can feel his heart finally giving in to the holiday cheer it’s been fighting since his moment the night before the tree hunt. Will always loved walking around town after the first snow. Even after they’d lived in Zephrah their entire lives, Will would drag him out so they could stroll around town in the snow and streetlights. 

He hadn’t allowed himself to remember that since Will died. Couldn’t think about it without his throat tightening. Now a fond remembrance settles around him and an odd desire to maybe try it again this year, bring Willow with him. 

He rolls to a stop at the tree lot, Dariax is waiting for him, scrolling on his phone.

“Good morning, Boss!” Dariax waves and peeks in the back. “Got the munchkin with ya?”

Orym unlocks the doors and Dariax opens the back door. “Morning…aww Willow, my girl! What are those tears about? Why so sad?” He unbuckles her from her car seat and makes sure her gloves and hat are securely on before lifting her out of the truck.

Willow sniffles pitifully and buries her face in Dariax’s shoulder as Orym comes around the side of the truck, tugging his work gloves on. 

Dariax joins him at the back. “Rough morning?”

Orym laughs. “No, she just got a little attached to our visitor and was very upset to discover he won’t be living with us forever.”

Dariax’s eyebrows shoot up into his beanie and he sets Willow down and they both watch her run off to play in the snow drifts. “I am gonna need oodles of context for that one, Boss.”

Orym sighs and lowers the gate on the truck and they start unloading trees. “Well, my mother and Nell and Fy’ra volunteered Dorian to help me cut down more trees the afternoon after the tree hunt.”

Dariax frowns, “Did you need help, Boss? Did I miss a schedule?”

Orym laughs, “No Dariax, chill. I think they were being meddlesome. Yes, I was planning on going out but no I didn’t need help. Wasn’t going to turn it down though. Probably should have, with the way the weather turned.”

Dariax’s eyes widen again. “Oh shoot, were you all out in that?”

Orym shivers, remembering. “Yeah all three of us were on the mountain. I managed to slide us back to my house and we holed up there all day yesterday. Derrig texted this morning to let me know the roads were safe to bring Dorian back down.”

Dariax heaves the tree upright and looks at him through the branches. “He stayed two nights at your place?”

“Eyep.”

“Dorian Wyvernwind. At your place. With your kid. Who apparently is now in mourning that he’s not staying forever.”

Orym rolls his eyes and heads back to the truck. “He’s going by Storm now,” he says over his shoulder. “And yes, Willow and him are best buddies now. I woke up yesterday to them making pancakes.” He grabs the next tree and turns, expecting Dariax to be next to him helping but is still standing stunned in the middle of the lot. “Dariax!”

“Huh? Oh sorry,” Dariax hustle back over to him and furiously whisper-yells, “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around how casually you’re saying all of that! ORYM!”

Orym smirks and tugs on the tree. “So should I not tell you about the song he’s writing for Willow?” 

Dariax drops his end of the tree and lets out an undignified screech as Orym doubles over laughing at him.

Chapter Text

Leaving Dariax with more questions than answers at the tree lot, Orym bundles Willow back into the truck and drives to his mother’s house in town. She’d moved into the apartment attached to the bookstore when she retired from the mill and now runs the store when she feels like it. The bell on the door jingles when they walk through.

“Ma?”

“Grandma!”

A voice comes from the storeroom. “Orym, sweetheart, is that you?” 

“Hi, Ma.”

Millie comes rushing out of the back room and wraps him in a strong hug.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re alright! When we didn’t hear from you we were so worried.” She scoops up Willow to her hip and hugs Orym to her again. “And that Dorian is alright too. Come, come.” She flips the sign on her door to “Closed” and pulls them into her personal quarters, letting Willow run to the bin of toys and hustling Orym into the kitchen.

“So, tell me everything.”

Orym freezes halfway to sitting down before sitting hard in one of the kitchen chairs. “Ma!”

She puts the kettle on the stove and shoots him a mischievous grin. “What? You would’ve seen right through an indirect approach.” She sits across from him and rests her chin in her hands. “Orym, you had a handsome stranger in your house for two days! What was he like? What were you like? What did you do? How did Willow do?”

Orym groans and drops his face into his hands and mumbles into his palms.

“What was that, sweetie?” Millie says grinning.

Orym glares up at her before sitting up and leaning back to check that Willow is still occupied. Seeing that she is fully absorbed in the toys, he slumps in his chair and lets his head thump back on the top of the backrest. 

“Ma, he’s so illegally attractive, it isn’t fair,” Orym whines like he’s in high school again.

Millie bursts out laughing. Orym lifts his head to glare at her again and she covers her mouth, but her eyes still sparkle with mirth.

Orym drops his head back and looks up at the ceiling and sighs. “I mean, you saw him right? Like, it’s ridiculous. And he’s always taking down his hair and braiding it, or putting it back up or fiddling with it.” He sits up straight and jams his fingers into his own hair “And he did Willow’s hair! That braid? Wasn’t me! I’ve tried! We’re doing good to get a ponytail to stay put for more than a few hours but his? No no, it’s staying put.” 

He flops back down again and his voice gentles, remembering the quiet moments in the sparkling light of the tree and the fireplace. “And his voice, Ma! Have you heard him sing? It’s… something magical, I can’t describe it. He was playing on your piano and Willow crawled up to join him and the two of them just. Hung out, for a while as he sang and played. And then he helped her play.” His face goes soft as his voice trails off.

The kettle whistling startles both of them and Millie goes to pour water into two cups. She places them on the table, dunks the tea bags in and wraps Orym in a hug from behind, resting her chin on top of his head. 

“I’ve not heard you carry on like this about someone in a long time.” 

The words hang heavy in front of them, the implication unspoken.

Orym heaves a sigh both of them feel. “I know.”

Millie hesitates before continuing softly, “And how do we feel about that?”

Orym twitches and she lets go, watching him shoot to his feet and walk to the window.

“I don’t know.” He rests his arm on the wall beside the window and lets his forehead lean into the soft flannel of his shirtsleeve. “I had barely begun to think if I was even ready for this. If it was possible. I’m content with the way life is. Willow is happy. I’m…”

He trails off again, watching people walk down the sidewalk, shopping bags in arms, hand in hand, feeling the familiar press of emotion stick in his throat.

“You’re what, sweetheart?”

“I’m lonely,” he chokes out.

“Oh Orym,” Millie bustles over and wraps him in a big hug, tucking him into her shoulder as he finally lets go of the tears he’s been holding back for a few months. They stand there a few minutes as he cries, his mother rubbing soothing circles on his back until he calms.

“I didn’t realize how lonely until everyone came over for the tree hunt and suddenly there was noise and life and laughter again. And then Dorian. Having another person in the house, taking up space, sitting at my table, making dinner, helping with Willow - I just. I’ve been in such a fog for months, Ma. Dariax helps but it's just not the same.”

Millie squeezes his hands and pulls him back to the table. “Sweetheart, it’s only natural to feel lonely. You’re up the mountain all by your lonesome with a toddler and a house full of a lifetime of memories. The only adult interaction you get is with Lita at the office and Dariax in the warehouse, and, bless him, Dariax is suspect at best most days and then Fyra for dinners. Orym, I know you think you have to prove you can do it on your own, but you don’t. None of you kids got raised up without help from the rest of the town, including Nell and Derrig’s kids - and they are the most stable family you’re gonna find around here. We look out for each other, Orym. You have to let us reciprocate. No one is going to look at you sideways for needing help, or even just wanting help.”

Orym sniffs and swipes at his eyes. “I know. Everyone was just so kind right after Will passed, I felt like I’d used up my share.”

“Orym Ashari-Blade you wipe that foolishness from your mouth right now!” 

Orym cringes and takes a sip of his tea.

“You know better than that, Orym,” her voice gentles and she looks at him with concern when he doesn’t respond. “Orym? Has anyone made you feel like you’re a burden on any of us?”

Orym sighs and puts his tea down. “No, Ma, nothing like that. I’m just…”

He trails off again. “I’m tired of being the town tragedy. I’m just. Tired.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Millie wraps him up in a hug again. “No one believes that, Orym. You don’t think Nell and Derrig are the town tragedies for losing their only son, do you? You don’t believe that Lita, Maeve, and Barony are the town tragedies for losing their baby brother, do you?” 

Orym shakes his head, burying his face into her shoulder again. 

“And you don’t think they look at me like the town tragedy who couldn’t hold onto her man and had to raise her son and business all alone?”

Orym’s head shoots up, fire lighting in his eyes. “Do they?”

She laughs and brushes his hair down. “No. And no one is thinking that of you.”

Orym searches her face for a moment before relaxing and nodding. “I suppose.”

Millie holds him for a moment longer before dropping a kiss in his hair and moving to sit back down across from him. They sit in companionable silence for a minute, listening to Willow play in the next room over. Millie takes a slow sip of her tea and Orym narrows his eyes at her mischievous grin.

“So our Mr. Storm made you realize how much you missed having company around?”

Oyrm rolls his eyes, but can’t stop the soft smile that plays at his lips. He rests his chin in his hands. “I know it’s silly, Ma but for a while there, it was like the rest of the world didn’t exist. He wasn’t a famous pop star and I wasn’t the town widower raising my baby girl alone. We were just. Dorian and Orym and Willow, decorating for Winter’s Crest and laughing and…” He looks down into his empty cup. “I told him about Will. I think he’d put most of it together after seeing all of the pictures around the house. It’s dizzying, really. Coming to the realization that you could picture forever with someone if you gave into that daydream just a little, the day after telling them about the forever you lost.”

He looks back up at his mom, who is listening intently, her own unshed tears making her green eyes sparkle.

Orym gives a half shrug and a wry smile. “But I’m just me. Why would someone like him even think about someone like me.”

“Oh Oyrm, hush.” Millie scolds. “And why wouldn’t he like you? You’re perfectly handsome.”

Orym scoffs and takes their cups to the sink. “Sure, Ma.”

Willow slides into the kitchen and bounces into her grandma’s knees, giggling. Millie shoots Orym a look that says the conversation isn’t over as she pulls Willow into her lap to hear all about Dorian and his piano and his tower and he does hair and how he’s tall and makes yum food.

____________________

Dorian spends the morning lost in his own little world, playing guitar, getting resettled into his room. Deciding to be brave, he gathers his keys and heads out the front door, catching his breath at the chill of the wind. He really needs a better coat. He starts wandering down the sidewalk until he sees a sign for the Twin Gems Boutique & Salon. 

He ducks inside and is met with a chorus of hellos and welcomes that he bashfully waves back to and the familiar scent of a hair salon that is somewhat grounding. 

"DORIAN!!!!"

Dorian startles at the exuberant calling of his name before recognizing one of the people would had been at the tree hunt. He waves again, awkwardly as she bustles over and tucks her arm through his, escorting him further into the building. 

"Look at you, coming into my salon. I'm Opal, you probably had a million names thrown at you the other day, but you can remember me because my hair matches my name!"

Dorian blinks. "Oh, right. Yes. This is your place?"

She gestures around. "Mine and my sister's! I run the salon, she runs the boutique. My side sparkles and her side is a little more...hmm calm?" 

Dorian looks past where Opal is now gesturing to, where indeed, the salon side sparkled while the boutique portion was elegantly decorated in more sedate colors. Somehow the two sides worked together.

"Well it does take all types, doesn't it? Balance and all that." 

Opal laughs and pats his arm, tugging him over to a set of chairs. They sit and Opal leans close, chin in a hand. “So what brings you in today?”

Dorian looks around a little nervously. “Well, nothing in particular, I’m just exploring. I’m kinda looking for warmer clothes maybe?”

Opal nods and scans her eyes up and down his frame. “Well, Ted might have a few pieces for you, but your more utilitarian stuff will be over at Nell and Derrig’s general store.” She hesitates for a moment before lowering her voice. “Your hair…do you need touch ups while you’re here?”

Dorian’s hands fly to his roots instinctually before he forces them back to his lap. “Ah. Yes. Probably. I haven’t actually decided what I’m going to do with it yet. I know it’s difficult  to work with and my father had to really search to find the stylist we have to get it tamed.” 

Opal stands and walks closer and waits. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

A little self conscious but reassured by the suddenly professional affect the woman before him had taken on he nods and allows his hair to fall out of the bun he’d tossed it up into. Opal steps closer and looks, humming as she thinks but doesn’t still doesn’t touch. 

After a few seconds she clears her throat. “May I touch?” 

Dorian nods a little shakily and braces for the usual roughness he’s become accustomed to from his stylist. Opal’s gentle fingers run through his hair, moving it this way and that as she inspects it. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders relaxes and his eyes slide shut when no sharp pin pricks come from harsh yanking.

“I’m seeing white growing in at the root, is that your natural color?” Opal asks.

Eyes shut, Dorian hums an affirmative. “Cyrus and I both went white in our teens. He dyes it completely and I do this.” His hand flutters at his side.

Opal continues inspecting his hair. “Well, I can see that we’ll probably need a touch up on those roots if you do decide to continue with that style, and we’ve got a few split ends here we can take care of as well. Deep conditioning is never a bad thing, especially in this weather.” She comes and sits back down beside Dorian. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Dorian. Your hair is a dream and if you trust me to work with it, I’d be honored.”

Dorian goes to protest before remembering who had told him his hair was difficult and had hired the stylist. “Oh. My dad..nevermind.” He blinks. “Maybe not today, but yes.”

He ties it back up into a bun and swipes at his eyes quickly. “Sorry, I mostly just ignore my hair, my father made it part of the image and also made it seem like a burden.”

Opal smiles sadly and squeezes his hand, yanking up to his feet. “Well, your hair is your own. You make of it what you want and all will be okay. Don’t hesitate to come back and we’ll see what we can do.” She tugs him towards the clothing section of the building. “In the meantime, let's find you a more substantial coat, city boy. TED!!!!”

____________________

That evening as Dorian continues his wandering exploration of town in a much warmer coat, he reaches the center of town and finds a park, filled with evergreens and other hibernating plants whose leaves had fallen to the cold of the winter. He slowly wanders down the path carving its way through what he assumes are hedgerows. Turning a corner around a tall pine, he startles to see Maeve sitting on a bench. She looks up at the sound of him crunching the snow and smiles slightly, wiping at her eyes. 

Dorian kneels beside her at the bench. “Is everything alright?”

She pats the bench beside her. “Yes. I’m fine. I cry at everything these days.”

Dorian sits and looks around at the corner of the park that the bench is nestled into. “This is a beautiful spot. The whole park is beautiful, but this is really something.”

Maeve sighs. “We put this bench here after.” Her voice breaks and a sob catches in her throat. “After Will. It was Will’s favorite spot in town.” She bends forward slightly as the tears begin to fall again. “He proposed to Orym here.”

Dorian wraps an arm around her shoulder and she leans into him, crying. “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh. Don’t be.” Dorian rubs her back. 

“I’ve been trying to be strong for Orym and keep calm for the baby and so Ted won’t worry but I never thought I would ever have to do this without my brother here with me!”

Dorian rocks with her as she cries, looking around to see if someone more qualified was around to help.

“I always thought he’d be the one giving me advice on parenting and diapers and which pacifiers to buy since he and Orym had a few years experience on us with Willow. And don’t get me wrong, Orym has been absolutely wonderful. But…” She trails off.

“He’s not your brother.” Dorian says softly.

“No, and I didn’t realize how much that was aching until my due date started creeping closer and I realized I wasn’t going to be introducing my kid to my brother.” 

They sit in silence for a while. 

Dorian softly says, “Sometimes, it feels like mourning the plans you’d made for the future with someone gets forgotten while mourning them. And then you’re back in that grief all over again when life continues and they aren’t there for those plans.”

She nods and sits up, wiping her eyes. “That was very well put. I didn’t know I needed to say goodbye to the dream of my kid and their Uncle Will until I realized it wasn’t happening. So here I am.” She gestures around. 

Dorian nods understanding. The wind blows both of their hair around but only he seems to feel the chill as Maeve continues staring off into the distance. 

“Maybe we should head back inside, the sun is going down quick.”

Maeve blinks and looks around, rubbing her arms and shivering. “Oh, yes, I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

Dorian slips his coat off and drops it around her shoulders, standing and pulling her gently to her feet. 

“I’ll walk with you.”

Maeve hooks her arm with his and they begin walking out of the park. As they exit the park and pass Orym's tree lot, a mischievous smile crosses her face.

“So, I heard you spent a couple nights with Orym.”

Dorian's face pinks with heat. "It! There was snow! A blizzard! We - nothing happened!"

Maeve collapses against him laughing as they walk, "Oh Dorian, I never said anything happened," She pulls him to a stop and grabs his hands, a smile still cracking across her face, eyes twinkling in the streetlights, "But now I desperately want to know what did happen." 

Dorian groans and looks up at the moon. 

Maeve giggles and squeezes his hands. "Oh come on, you gotta know I've walked in on Orym and my brother making out so many times - now I get the chance to gossip about Orym and get ammunition to tease him with again? Priceless." She takes pity on him and tugs him along the sidewalk again. "His blush starts with his ears, you know."

"I know," Dorian says without thinking. 

Maeve screeches and yanks him to a stop. "WHAT!"

Dorian flushes again and grins sheepishly. "Well, my clothes were wet and cold and he gave me some of his to wear and his shirts don't really, um, cover everything - anyway I caught him checking me out when I reached to get something from a shelf and the shirt lifted half up my ribs."

Maeve snickers. "He always did have a thing for abs, I've seen your Instagram, you cut a fine figure, sir, exactly how much time do you spend in the gym?"

"Maeve!"

"What? I'm married, not dead! Ted thirsts over your brother's Instagram all the time. Celebrity thirst time is a nightly routine of ours now."

Dorian's laugh rings across the street, joining hers until she gasps and pulls Dorian's hand to her belly. He feels the flutter of movement under his hand and the entire world narrows to that sensation.

“Well we got the kid riled up too,” she giggles at the awestruck look on his face.

"Maeve!" 

Derrig rushes down the sidewalk towards them. "There you are! Everyone was about to start sending out search parties for you, you left your phone and the sun went down. Ted is frantic-" 

He cuts himself off, pulling her into a hug, tucking her under his chin, closing his eyes in relief.

"Sorry Dad," Maeve mumbles. 

Derrig pulls back still holding her by the shoulders. "Are you alright? Feel alright? Are you warm enough?"

"Dad, I'm fine, Dorian found me in the park and let me cry and was walking me back home. If anything he's probably cold, he gave me his coat."

Derrig turns to where Dorian is standing awkwardly to the side, hands in his pockets. Derrig pulls his coat off and hands it to Dorian. "C’mon, let's go get some dinner. You too, Dorian."

“I - are you sure?” 

Derrig cuts him off with a look and slings an arm around both their shoulders, guiding them towards home.

“Yes, sir. Dinner sounds great.”

Chapter Text

Dorian lays slumped in his bed back at Fy’ra’s place, scrolling on his phone, where he’s desperately searching for inspiration for the madness he’d just agreed to help with. He lets his arms flop back to the bed and sighs. Dinner had been a whirlwind. His phone vibrates and he wearily squints at the screen. 

Cyrus was calling.

“Hello?”

“What do you mean, what do I know about running a Winter’s Crest pageant?” Cyrus whisper-yells, with no greeting.

Dorian groans and buries his head in his pillow.

“What exactly are you getting yourself into, little brother?” Cyrus is louder now and Dorian can hear the slam of a door and the whoosh of wind and he knows Cyrus is now on the roof, where no one can hear him. “I thought you were going off to make your own music, and now I get a text asking what I know about putting on a pageant? Bro, do you need rescuing? Did someone find out who you are?”

Dorian shoots out of bed and starts pacing. “No, no. I’m fine. I actually kinda volunteered. This little town I’m staying in is really great and I’m getting to know a lot of the locals and yeah they kinda know who I am but they’re super chill about it and anyway I had dinner with one the families cause there was this whole thing and Maeve had disappeared and I found her but I didn’t know I’d found her cause I just happened to be in the same place as her and we were talking and she was crying but that’s not the point, the point is: her mom is his mother-in-law and she runs the pageant and he builds the sets and is really really god Cyrus he’s just and his daughter is adorable and I’ve already written so many songs but the whole town is all grieving the loss of this one guy who seemed to be the glue that held the town together and was his husband and now I’m just some guy showing up and aaaaggggh I don’t know what to do cause my heart isn’t listening to my head.”

For a long moment there’s nothing but the sound of rooftop wind on the other end of the line. 

“What?”

Dorian stops pacing and lets his forehead thunk against the wall. “Sorry Cy. I'm having a crisis and also finding inner peace and a sense of belonging at the same time."

"Right." The doubtful tone is palpable. 

"I'm serious! I'm in love with this town and I've half fallen for someone here," Dorian freezes as the words come out of his mouth. "Oh gods, Cyrus, I just said that out loud, I admitted it, oh no." 

He slides to the floor as his breathing picks up. 

"Woah woah woah, slow down there," Cyrus calms his voice. "Breathe for me? You said it out loud, no big deal. I didn't hear it cause of the wind and it's fine. Unless you wanted me to hear it, then I am your witness, totally. That is also fine. Hey bud, you breathing with me?"

Dorian breathes along with the exaggerated loud breathing on the other end of the line until his heart stops racing. 

"Cy, I'm not joking and I'm afraid I'm setting myself up for failure and heartbreak." Dorian's voice is small as he admits his fear to his brother. "He was married. It's been a few years since his husband died but he's still grieving. The whole town is. And he has a daughter, she's wonderful. The whole town thinks this guy is the best man they know and here's me. Some goof with a guitar showing up and falling for the first person I met."

There's a prolonged silence on the other end. "That is...a lot."

"Yeah."

"And what does this have to do with the pageant?"

"Well his mother-in-law runs it and asked if I wanted to help out while in town cause he builds the sets and-oh she was matchmaking. Oh they were all matchmaking, that's how I ended up on the mountain with him. Cyrus, I've been bamboozled by the people who care most about him." Dorian runs a hand through his hair, connecting the dots. "What does that mean?!"

He hears a snort from the other end of the line. "You were outmaneuvered by your crush's in-laws, trying to set him up with you and you were completely oblivious to it?"

Dorian can feel himself blushing as he protests. "Well if you were standing in the direct beam of his gorgeous eyes, you'd be a little distracted too."

"Oh you're in deep, deep brother," Dorian can almost hear Cyrus' teasing smile through the phone and he flushes. "It probably means they love him and want him to be happy and something about the way he interacts with you makes them think you're the ticket to him being happy," Cyrus pauses for a minute. "You said he has a kid?"

Dorian’s voice softens, "Yeah, she's three and she's great."

"That's quite a commitment," Cyrus muses. "But you know, I've always seen you being a dad first. You're way better with kids than I am."

"Yeah well. I never even thought that far ahead. With Dad, I always thought that just having a partner would be more trouble for them than I was worth," Dorian mumbles. 

"Woah now, that is the second time you've talked down about yourself in this conversation and what you bring to a relationship, Dorian. You are a fantastic guy, I should know. You're the best little brother anyone could ask for. Cut the crap of 'Oh I don't offer anything of value to a relationship' cause it's bull. You hear me?"

Dorian makes a noncommittal noise. 

"Dorian, say it, " Cyrus growls through the phone.

"Ughhh you're so annoying," Dorian rolls his eyes. 

The silence continues. 

"FINE! I'm a worthwhile person!"

"Better," Cyrus huffs. "Listen, I've been up here too long, Dad will be looking for me so I gotta go, but my suggestion for your pageant to snag your man is something a capella or maybe something in a round, maybe both. It's charming and audiences eat that up."

"I'm not snagging anyone- nevermind, thanks Cyrus. Stay safe."

"Yep."

The call ends without a goodbye and it takes a minute before Dorian lets his arm drop back down to his lap. It wasn't just a crush. Gods, what was he gonna do?

____________________

The next morning, Orym smiles tiredly as Willow runs off to hug her Grandma Nell when they arrive at the community center where a makeshift set of risers and an ancient choir piano await and follows her at a more sedate pace. Nell tugs him into a hug and he allows himself to lean on her for a moment. 

"Long morning, dear?" Nell asks without letting go. 

Orym snorts a laugh before heaving a sigh and standing back, running a hand through his hair. "You didn't hear?"

A worried look crosses her face, "No, we had a scare with Maeve yesterday so we're out of the loop, what happened?"

Orym freezes. "What's wrong with Maeve?"

Nell waves her hand. "Oh it turned out to be nothing, we couldn't find her and she'd left her phone behind and it got dark and Ted panicked but Dorian brought her home and all was well."

Orym relaxes a bit. "I'm glad she's alright,” he sighs and rubs his forehead. “Well, Dariax fell getting out of his truck when he got home and broke his arm so Ma had Willow all night while I spent the night with him at the hospital getting that figured out. Willow had a full on meltdown when she found out we weren’t going to see Dorian for dinner, something was wrong with her Uncle Dariax and she was scared about him cause I ran out the door very quickly and then she had to stay with Grandma without warning and I wasn’t there for routines and yeah.” He runs both hands down his face. “Long night, morning, you name it. I haven’t slept much more than an hour and haven’t had a chance to figure out what I’m going to do without Dariax out in the field, I’m still trying to figure out where the best place for him is cause an overactive toddler that loves him isn’t the most peaceful recovery location and he can’t be by himself -”

Nell cuts him off with a hug. “Orym, sweetheart. You need to take a breath. Why are you even here this morning? You could have called and told me you couldn’t make it.”

“Aw nah, I couldn’t miss this, not for anything,” Orym kisses her cheek before grabbing his toolbelt. “Though, without Dariax, I may be a bit slower this year.”

Nell’s eyes shift past him to the front door of the community center and she smiles mischievously. “Well it’s a good thing I already recruited help myself and it’s well documented that the two of you work well together physically.” 

Brow furrowed in confusion, Orym turns to look just as Willow screeches out “Dorian!” and tears off running across the room. The man in question was bundled for the cold, hair tucked up into a beanie, carrying a guitar case and a folder under one arm, both of which he quickly puts down as he leans down to pick up the curly haired rocket leaping for him, both of them laughing like maniacs, Willow chattering happily at him and Dorian’s entire attention focused on her as he settles her on his hip and and maneuvers the coat off. 

Orym leans against the piano and blames his lack of sleep for the heart palpitations making him dizzy and feeling his ears start to heat. Bewildered, he looks over at Nell who is watching Dorian interact with Willow with a soft look on her face. 

“What?” he begins before trailing off.

She cups his face with one of her hands. “We had him for dinner last night. He’s a sweet man, Orym and a talented one too. I asked if he’d be interested in helping me out with the pageant and he agreed. The spirits knew you were going to need the help too it would seem.” She winks and whispers. “I saw how he just jumped right in at the tree hunt, he’s strong too. And I think he likes you - if you ask him to help you build the set, I don’t think he’d say no.”

Blush spreading across his cheeks now he glances back over his shoulder just as Dorian meets his eyes and waves. He blinks and jerks his hand up in a small wave before jamming it into his hair and sitting down on the piano bench. 

“Oh gods, what am I doing?” he mumbles as Nell puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“Oh, Oyrm sweetheart. Millie said you were pretty worked up over this boy but I didn’t realize it was this bad. I haven’t seen you this awkward since you tried to ask Will to Homecoming.” 

“You talked to my mom?” Orym buries his bright red face in his hands. “Of course you did,” he mumbles into his fingers. “At least then I knew for sure Will liked me, I just didn’t know how to ask him, this is - this is. I’m nobody and he’s, he’s well you know who he is and what about Will and oh gods what am I doing.”

“Orym! First of all: you are not nobody and second of all: it’s just a construction project, not a proposal of marriage. Pull yourself together, son. Heaven’s sake. Fy’ra said you might be a bit timid getting back out there but I wasn’t expecting this. If we need to lay off for your own sanity tell us, cause you’re starting to worry me here, honey.”

Orym is really starting to get used to having a confused look on his face. 

“Fy’ra? Ma? You…oh.” Comprehension dawns and he drops his head back into his hands laughing. “Oh my. Mama Nell, I wouldn’t ask you to mind your business for the world, but all this makes much more sense now. I appreciate your all’s concern for me, and the, um, stamp of approval on Dorian and I know I may seem a bit hopeless right now, but I swear that’s just the sleep deprivation. I'd like to think I am capable of getting my own dates, hm?” He stands and hugs her, still laughing a bit.

“Well yes, we know you’re perfectly capable, but he’s only in town for so long. We had to make sure things were set in motion quickly.”

Orym looks over at where his daughter and Dorian are dancing on the stage and starts to head that direction and sighs. “And that’s the trouble, isn’t it?” He tosses over his shoulder.

He joins the dancers on the stage and Willow giggles her way over, pointing back to where Dorian is.

“Yeah, I see him, Pumpkin. Good morning, Dorian.” 

He watches with fond eyes as Dorian attempts to right himself after jumping around with Willow before giving up and just brushing his hair back and smiling. 

“Hi.”

They stand there a moment, Orym just taking in how Dorian’s face is still flushed from the cold, or perhaps from the exertion of Willow’s exuberant dance moves, or maybe - and then Orym realizes he’s staring and then he’s the one blushing. 

“Well, I, uh, I hear my, um, Nell talked you into helping out,” Orym stumbles through a half thought out sentence just to break the silence. He swears he can hear Nell facepalm behind the piano.

“Yeah. Yeah, I was at dinner cause Maeve and I were lost apparently. I didn’t really catch everything that happened but I got pulled into dinner and Derrig wouldn’t take no for an answer and Nell’s a great cook so. But yeah I said I’d help out. I’ve never done one of these before so I thought a new experience might be fun. Good for the resume, you know.” Dorian winces as a discordant chord comes from the piano where Nell definitely facepalmed and an elbow slipped and hit the keys. 

He starts rebraiding his hair just to have something to do with his hands.

Orym’s eyes are immediately drawn to where Dorian is weaving the ombre strands quickly and can’t blame his short-circuiting brain on his sleepless night. 

“I build sets.” he blurts out and can feel his ears heating back up. “I’m gonna- yeah.” 

He points behind him and retreats, shaking his head in disbelief. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Nell has fully collapsed into the piano, laughing silently and he glares at her as he passes by to go back to his truck.

“Stop it,” he growls.

Nell follows him out giggling still. “Orym, darling. That was painful to witness, oh spirits of the mountain and air save me, that was something else. How on earth did you ever manage to ask my son out like that?”

Orym stops at his truck and collapses against it, giving in to his own giggles. “For the record, Will asked me! I have never, ever, ever been good at talking to anyone, oh gods I felt like I was witnessing that from the outside of myself in real time and I couldn’t stop the trainwreck. I swear things weren’t that awkward when Dorian stayed with us.” He gestures wildly with his hands as Nell watches him amused. “It’s like, the second I catch on to the fact that I’ve caught feelings, I lose all ability to talk to them, sabotaging any chance I have with them.” 

Nell pats his shoulder. “Well, you weren’t the only bumbling doofus in there, Mr. Fancypants isn’t as smooth as the tabloids let on. Perhaps the two of you will just…crash into each other.” She winks and heads back inside as more kids start showing up for the first rehearsal and he takes a minute to gather himself before heading back inside.

He settles into the back and pulls out his notebook and preps to take notes as Nell and Dorian begin corralling children to the risers and Nell starts explaining what the pageant will be and that Mr. Dorian will be helping with the music this year. Willow wiggles happily where she’s sitting but settles when Dorian puts a finger to his lips looking at her. Orym begins sketching out ideas, thinking he can probably reuse some of last year’s set and make less work for himself, based on the general ideas Nell had presented. 

His attention is pulled back up to the front when Nell settles behind the piano and Dorian takes up a position in front of the kids as they stand up, making a ruckus on the ancient metal risers. Orym winces. He’d meant to make new ones last year but that…didn’t happen. He makes another note. 

The piano begins and Dorian begins directing the kids as they cheerfully start singing in every key imaginable. Orym plasters a smile on his face and keeps nodding along because they’re all so enthusiastic and adorable his heart can’t help but melt. His eyes drift back to Dorian and suddenly the smile is one of awe as he watches the normally shy and unsure man come alive with joy and love he’d only ever seen when Orym had eavesdropped while Dorian was playing the piano with Willow and later on that night on his own. The sparkle that shone from the man as he led the kids through the song, gently corrected their tone, ran through each note and got them all remotely on key by the end of the rehearsal left Orym’s heart feeling very raw and tender, like he’d witnessed something he wasn’t supposed to have seen. As the rehearsal winds down and the kids mob Dorian to the floor to hug him goodbye, Orym slumps in his seat. 

“I really am falling for him.” he whispers softly under the noise. Willow runs back and headbutts into his knees and he ruffles her curls, shaking himself out of his shock. 

“I like Dorian,” she leans against him. “He stay?” 

Orym swallows around the lump in his throat. “I hope so Pumpkin. I sure hope so.”

Chapter Text

After the last kid leaves, Dorian gathers up his notes and guitar and spies Orym on the phone in the corner of the community center, keeping an eye on Willow dancing by herself in the middle of the room but talking intensely and running his hand through his hair enough that it’s poking in all directions. After making a supreme fool of himself earlier, he’s tempted to just cut and run but his feet have other ideas and walk him over to stand near him, quietly putting his stuff down. Orym looks up at him, a small smile softening the worry lines cutting across his face.

“-doing this morning?” Orym is asking someone. He nods along with whatever they’re saying and Dorian takes a moment to continue studying the man in front of him. If someone were to look up the word 'cozy’ in the dictionary, Dorian is pretty sure Orym’s picture would be right there as the definition. Always clad in time-softened t-shirts covered in warm flannels, well-worn denim shifting over muscular legs and tucked into solid boots that Dorian could bet hid mismatched socks, a likely homemade scarf hung loosely around his neck and matching beanie tucked into his back pocket. Tugging his eyes regretfully away from Orym’s incredibly well-shaped denim backside and back to his face, he hears Orym's exasperated dad-voice directed to whoever is one the other end of the line.

“Dariax, there’s no way I’m letting you back on the mountain right now. I don’t even feel right about you helping with the tree lot, but seeing as I’m a little short staffed and I don’t think I can’t stop you anyway, I’ll let that slide if you agree to move in with Fy’ra while you recover.”

Dorian frowns in concern, wondering what Dariax would need to recover from. On closer look, he can see the tiredness etched across Orym’s handsome face, the normal stubble a shade darker, the exhaustion bruising under his eyes. Orym hangs up the phone with a sigh and presses the palms of his hands into his eyes, clearly counting to ten. 

Dorian puts a hand on Orym’s shoulder. “Is everything okay?” 

Orym sighs heavily and sways towards him for a second before catching himself. “Dariax broke his arm last night and is being stubborn about letting people take care of him and about taking any time off of work. Says we can’t afford to not have him out there. And he’s right, I need him but he needs to recover, that is way more important." His hands go back to his hair. "But now I gotta figure out how to balance everything I need to get done without my right hand man. I have to build the set pieces for this, run the tree stand, continue cutting trees and keep the mill going, and get my Winter’s Crest gifts done all while being present in my daughter’s life.”

Dorian blinks and Orym huffs a wry laugh. “It was a long night. I think I got maybe an hour of sleep. Oh and Willow pitched an almighty tantrum when she realized we weren’t going to see you for dinner at Fy’ra’s.” He sinks into a nearby chair, his head drooping down and his hands hanging between his knees. “I’m gonna level with you, Dorian, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” His voice shakes with exhaustion and emotion.

Dorian kneels down in front of him, putting a hand on his knee. “Let me help you, Orym. I can help with the sets and on the mountain with the trees. Just show me what to do and I’ll do it. Plus more time with Willow is always a good thing. She’s the best. From the sounds of it, that’ll make her happy too.”

Orym looks at him, stunned, before launching himself forward and hugging Dorian tightly to him, trembling with the effort of not breaking down from the kindness being shown to him. “Thank you,” he rasps into Dorian’s shoulder as Dorian’s arms slowly wrap around him, one hand gently cradling the back of Orym’s head as he just leans into Dorian for a moment, letting the weight of the world slip off of him for a moment. Then Dorian runs his fingers through Orym’s hair, smoothing it back down and Orym shivers at the touch, arms tightening around Dorian’s back.

“Anytime,” Dorian replies a little breathlessly, pulling away a bit reluctantly, letting Orym’s short hair slip through his fingers and his other hand linger on the soft flannel of his back a moment longer than he probably should. “I can start now if you want?” 

Orym’s heated gaze searches his face for a moment as his own arms linger before releasing Dorian, one crossing across his chest and the other going to the back of his neck as he ducks his head bashfully.

“Yeah, can you help me kidnap Dariax and move him in with you and Fy’ra? I’d put him at my place, but given how it went with you there, I don’t think Willow would actually allow him to rest and recover.” Orym reaches for Dorian’s guitar case and whistles for Willow’s attention.

Dorian grins. “Sounds kinda illegal but I’m on vacation, so what the heck?”

“What da heck!” Willow pipes up from his feet, causing him to startle and laugh. Dorian bends down and zips her coat up and secures her gloves and scarf. “Goodness kiddo, you startled me. Hey, we’re gonna go check on Dariax, okay? Now we get there, we gotta be real quiet and soft so we don’t hurt him, alright?”

Willow nods solemnly. "Okay."

Dorian looks up at Orym who's looking at them both with an impossibly soft look on his face. "Ready?"

____________________

Over the next week, Dorian wakes excitedly each morning, bounces down the stairs to check in with Dariax, grabs breakfast from Fy’ra, drops a sweet kiss on her cheek and bops out the door to hop in Orym’s truck and begin the day’s work alongside him. Depending on the day, they are either dropping Willow off at the bookshop with Millie or the general store with Nell and Derrig before heading back to the grueling work of running the mill. Lita had been skeptical at first but took a quick liking to him after his first day. Each night had Dorian dragging himself sore and exhausted up the stairs after dinner with Orym, Willow, and Fy’ra. He’d collapse into bed, feeling more alive than he’d ever felt in his entire life and fall asleep before the full thought finished, and repeat the entire process once more the next day. 

He wakes slowly this morning, allowing himself to sleep in. Orym had given him the day off - insisted really. Rolling over he grabs his phone and squints at it. There was a text from Orym, a picture of him and Willow covered in flour.

We tried to recreate your pancakes this morning,
it didn’t go well. We’re heading to Maeve’s diner
if we ever manage to get the flour out of our hair.
You’re welcome to join us :)

Dorian shoots a text back and springs out of bed, groaning as he does. Derrig hadn’t been kidding, this worked muscle in ways the gym didn’t. His phone vibrates. 

Well we’re clean enough and heading to town,
meet in 30?

Dorian sends a thumbs up and sprints for the shower, leaving a trail of clothes behind him. After taking the fastest shower of his life, he stands in his towel debating what clothes to wear before giving up and throwing on a normal outfit. He gets his hair dried and decides to sacrifice a warm head to leave it down and hatless to enjoy the good hair day. He grabs his coat and glances in the mirror, wrinkling his nose before he changes his outfit to more form-fitting jeans and taking a style cue from Orym, a t-shirt and flannel. Maybe Dorian can manage to recreate the swoon-worthy effect that happens to him whenever Orym rolls up his flannel shirtsleeves. Dorian shakes his head at himself in the mirror. It’s just breakfast, not a date, give it a rest.

He grabs his phone and the business card Maeve had given him the night before at dinner and texts the number as he scoots down the stairs.

Hi, is this Barony? Maeve gave me your card,
said you were the best real estate agent in the area?

He bundles up and begins walking to the diner, waving hello to people on the street as he goes, thrilling in the sensation of them being genuinely happy to see him, Dorian, Dorian Storm the guy who kinda halfway lives here and is helping with the pageant and keep the Mill running, not Dorian Wyvernwind, international pop star. He reaches the diner and his pocket vibrates. Opening the door for an older couple and nodding his welcome to them, he reads the incoming text.

This is Barony Blade, yes. I do real estate,
home reno, home decor, you name it, I
have a hat for it ;) Who is this, and how
can I help you?

Dorian scoots inside and steps to the side to respond.

My name is Dorian and I’m looking to maybe
purchase a home in the area.

The typing bubbles pop up immediately.

Oh DORIAN! Maeve’s told me SO MUCH about you.
And Mom. And Dad. And Lita. And Miss Millie. And
Miss Fy’ra. Hell, even Dariax and that man is oblivious.
Well, lucky for you, I do have a couple of lovely places
that have popped up recently. Some older couples that
have decided to trade in their skis for beach chairs. Do
you have a moment to take a look?

Dorian blushes realizing that Orym’s entire extended family is gossiping about them but his heart begins to race with excitement to find out there may be places for him to look at, possibly even today.

Oh wow, that’s amazing. I’m free pretty much all day,
Orym gave me the day off but I’m meeting him and
Willow for breakfast.

He facepalms. Why did he say that? 

Oh, honey. You got it bad. This is great, can’t wait to
tease Orym about this, bless you for new ammunition.
I’ll pick you up at Fy’ra’s at 1:30?

Dorian looks up when he hears his name called from across the diner. Willow is waving a crayon at him and Orym is standing beside her smiling at him. Apparently they’d been trying to get his attention for a bit. He types out a quick affirmative response and shoves his phone in his pocket before weaving through the tables, an easy grin splitting his face. 

“Hey there,” Orym’s husky voice is the most welcoming sound he’s ever heard and combined with the relaxed smile on his face, Dorian is certain he could see this sight every morning and never get tired of it. Orym slips his coat off and hangs it on the seat before catching Dorian’s elbow and squeezing.

“Thanks for meeting up with us on such short notice and on the day I promised you’d get a break from us,” Orym grins wryly. “The princess requested pancakes and I just couldn’t deliver.”

Dorian laughs and pulls his own coat off and tucks it on his chair before leaning down to ruffle Willow’s curls and drop a kiss on top of her head. “You thought you’d get rid of me that easily?” He sits down and tosses his hair back over his shoulder. “Face it, Orym. I’m like old gum on the bottom of your boot - here for the long haul.”

Orym’s senses are overwhelmed by the combination of the reveal of the tightfitting jeans, the tender affection towards his daughter, the musical laugh, and the motion of the long hair down and loose for the first time since that first night at his house in the blizzard and he nearly misses Dorian’s words. He blinks.

“What?” He croaks and clears his throat, reaching for his water.

Orym stills as Dorian blushes and looks down, fiddling with his napkin. “It was a silly joke, I just meant…” He trails off and looks up at Orym, water glass frozen halfway to the table and clears his throat nervously before leaning closer. “I just meant that I’m not going anywhere.” 

Their eyes meet and hold as the general buzz of the diner fades around them, Orym’s heart pounding in his ears, having just heard some of the most wonderful words he’s ever heard in his life.

Their server arrives and they both startle, Dorian picking up his menu and burying his face in it and Orym putting the glass down, sloshing water a bit.

“Hi Mr. Orym,” the teenaged girl looks at him a little wide-eyed, eyes darting over to the man hiding behind his menu. “Hi Willow. You, uh, you, uh. You have a friend with you?”

“PANCAKES!” Willow calls out, brandishing a crayon like a sword.

“Woah there, kiddo. On the coloring page please,” Orym says, redirecting her hand. “Hey there, Emma. If we could get a round of coffee, some milk for Willow and two of the pancake specials and an extra plate, that would be great.”

Emma nods, still a bit wide-eyed. “Yeah sure thing, Mr. Orym.”

“Great,” Orym smiles and gathers his menu and reaches over, gently tugging Dorian’s from his hands. “Unless you wanted something different?”

Dorian shakes his head, face beet red.

“Amazing,” Orym smiles kindly up to Emma, holding out the menus for her, but she is distracted by looking between them both like she’s at a tennis match. He coughs. “How’s your Ma doing, Emma?”

Emma shakes herself out of her trance and gathers the menus and backing away. “Oh she’s great, Mr. Orym. I’ll go get those coffees.”

Orym watches her go with a puzzled look on his face. He’d been here a million times before and never seen the girl so distracted. He’d have to talk to Maeve and see if she knew if there was anything going on at home that the town needed to rally around them for. He scratches his head, trying to remember how old the girl was and if it was college application time yet or not. That might be it. 

He turns his attention back to the table where Dorian and Willow are drawing on her coloring sheet and leans his head in his hand, watching them. Dorian was a natural with her, it was amazing to watch. He somehow managed to guide and correct without being overbearing or overstepping. Willow just constantly has a look of adoration in her eyes when he’s around. He grabs his phone and sneaks a photo of the two of them just before Dorian looks over and catches his eye and smiles at him.

“What?” 

Orym shakes his head and puts his phone down. “Just capturing the moment.”

Dorian puts his crayon down and blushes. 

“You wanna tell me why you were trying to climb into the menu?” Orym leans forward and asks in a teasing voice.

Emma comes back with the coffee and they take it from her with overlapping thanks. She nods and darts off to the beverage station. 

Dorian nods over to where she went as he blows on his steaming cup. “That’s why.”

Orym glances over his shoulder and sees all of the servers whispering and looking over at them. As he turns back to face Dorian he sees the rest of the diner sneaking glances over at their table. Worry comes over him as he leans forward again, grabbing Dorian’s wrist.

“Why are they all looking at us, did they find out who you are?” he whispers. “Do we need to go?”

Dorian looks down at where Orym has a hold of his wrist and sweeps a glance around the diner and smirks over his coffee cup. 

“Darling, I’m not the local celebrity getting breakfast with a handsome stranger here,” Dorian replies, just above a whisper, voice low.

It takes Orym an embarrassing amount of time to recover from the word “darling” coming from Dorian’s mouth and directed at him to register what came after. His eyes go wide and he sits straight up, Dorian laughing silently behind his coffee cup. 

“Oh! Oh gods! They! Oh no!” Orym splutters before burying his head in his arms on the table. First his whole family speculating about his love life or lack thereof or pathetic attempts to rekindle any version therein but now the entire town thinks he’s on a date. He feels dual pat pats on his head and arm and looks up slightly to see a still amused Dorian patting his head and Willow patting his arm with her crayon. He glares at Dorian who doesn’t stop smiling. 

“You do realize this is all they are going to talk about, right?” Orym mumbles from somewhere in his sleeve. “I didn’t even think. We come here all the time! It’s just supposed to be breakfast! Pancakes!”

“Pancakes!” Willow agrees.

Dorian tries to talk but a small giggle comes out and he coughs to cover it up. He can’t help it, Orym is adorable when flustered and grumpy. Clearing his throat, he tries again, barely keeping the giggles back. “You mean this wasn’t a huge romantic overture meant to sweep me off my feet?”

Orym glares at him and sits up, scooting forward and dropping his voice low, “Oh trust me Storm, when I try and romance you, you’ll know,” he growls.

Dorian’s giggles fade as his brain becomes a high pitched whine. “Mmmmm. Mmmhmm. Yep. Duly noted.”

Dorian’s flush returns as Orym cocks an eyebrow at him and Dorian shifts in his seat, regretting his choice in pants for the day. He takes a sip of the still-steaming coffee, feeling the heat ground him, distracting him from the bevy of inappropriate mental images screaming through his brain in 4K. 

Emma returns hesitantly with their food, setting it down. Orym thanks her without taking his eyes off of Dorian, the heat that had flared there with his growled promise still scorching Dorian whenever he meets his eyes. 

Dorian clears his throat again and looks Orym straight in the eyes. “Well then. I’m looking forward to it.”

Chapter Text

Orym turns his attention back to the food and keeping Willow from making a mess of the entire restaurant and herself. Dorian half stands up to quickly pull her hair up in a bun to keep it out of the syrup and Orym smiles his thanks as they continue their breakfast. 

Dorian tells him about the Mario Kart competition Dariax had dragged him into last night and still beat him, even with the broken arm until Fy’ra came in and mopped the floor with both of them, pulling a rare full body laugh from Orym that has the entire diner turning to look at them. 

Dorian can’t bring himself to care. 

Eventually breakfast ends and they both tag team cleaning the syrup and pancake bits off of Willow. Willow reaches for Dorian and he scoops her up to stand in his lap, letting her play with his hair while Orym gets her coat on her and hands her off to Orym to get his own coat on. Willow lunges back into Dorian’s arms and he lifts her up with an exaggerated growl to his shoulders, holding her legs firmly and ducking to get through the front door with a laugh as she squeals. Orym walks beside them, hands in his pockets and a smile playing at his lips as Willow reaches up to try and touch tall things. 

Dorian turns to him as they reach Orym’s truck. “Thanks for breakfast, it was really fun.”

Orym pulls open the door and Dorian lifts Willow down from his shoulder and tucks her into her car seat, melting when her little arms wrap around his neck for a hug. He ducks back out of the truck and tucks his hands in his pockets, squinting in the sun over to Orym who’s leaning against the truck just watching them. Their eyes meet and Orym gently shuts the door of the truck and steps closer and Dorian can feel his breath catch in his chest. 

“I’m glad you could come by,” Orym says softly, looking up into Dorian’s eyes before his eyes fall to Dorian’s smile and he tilts his head up slightly. 

Dorian leans down just a bit, eyes drifting to Orym’s lips as he does, “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

“Orym! Is that you?” 

The pair spring apart and Orym turns and cranes his neck over his truck to see an elderly woman waving at him across the street.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there Mrs. Ketterly!” he calls back with a wave and turns back to Dorian, a sheepish look on his face, ears reddened and seeping into his cheeks. “I better go see what she needs.” 

Dorian is already backtracking down the sidewalk. “Yeah, I’ve got a thing.”

Orym points at him as he too walks backwards in the opposite direction. “Text you later?”

Dorian nods with a duel thumbs up before spinning around and nearly bolting down the street. A thumbs up? What was he, twelve? He shakes his head and slips into the nearest store. He ducks in between the bookshelves and finds a bench to sit on, trying to catch his breath.

“I’m telling you, Millie, they were looking very cozy at Maeve’s.” A voice rings out over the bookshelves and Dorian’s attention piques. 

“They were there for breakfast .” Another voice joins in.

“Oh, Harland, don't be insinuating things, Dorian met them there. I know for a fact he was at Fy’ra’s last night helping her with dishes, I talked with her on the phone!” The first voice scolds.

“He’s very good with the little one.” The second voice adds. “She seems to be quite enamored with him.”

“So does your Orym.” The first voice chimes back in. “My, my I could have toasted my bread from the heat coming off their stares.”

“Are you sure?” A third voice, a somewhat familiar one asks.

“Millie, darling. They were blissfully unaware of the world. You would have thought they were already a little family, just the three of them. Why, I nearly cried into my fruit cup except I was so happy for our Orym I held it together so we could rush over here and let you know.”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we. That’ll be $32.44, dear. You all have a Happy Winter’s Crest now, you hear?”

The door jingles and closes and Dorian sits there reeling.

Orym’s mom was rooting for this? Them? Gods, what if he messes all of this up and breaks Orym’s heart?

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and grips his hair and breathes for a moment. Orym likes him. Orym all but promised to intentionally romance him at some point in the near future. Orym had nearly kissed him in broad daylight. Dorian shivers at the memory and shoots to his feet looking around the bookstore trying to figure out how to escape without being seen. His eyes land on the section of books in front of him and he grabs one. Teaching Little Fingers to Play with an owl and mouse on the cover brings memories of his and Cyrus’ first piano lessons. Flipping through the book, he remembers the simple melodies it contains and an idea takes hold. Figuring there’s no way out other than through, he heads for the front counter. Orym’s mom sits there doing a crossword puzzle. She looks up as he approaches and she smiles broadly.

“Oh well hi there, Dorian, I didn’t see you come in!” She takes the book from him and her face lights up even more. “Winter’s Crest shopping are you?”

Dorian relaxes a little bit and nods shyly. “When I had to stay with Orym cause of the blizzard, Willow seems pretty entranced with the piano, well I guess it’s your piano, when I was playing on it. I thought maybe having something on hand might be good if she wanted to learn.”

Millie’s hand goes to her heart and her face goes soft. “Well you’d be the perfect teacher, Dorian. You’re so good with her.”

Dorian ducks his head bashfully. “Oh, uh, well thank you. This was my first lesson book, so.”

Millie’s other hand goes to her heart and she sighs. “That’s so sweet.”

She finishes ringing him up and hands him the book and receipt. “I hear you had breakfast with them both this morning, thought he was giving you the day off?”

Dorian can feel himself blushing but takes the book from her. “Ah yeah, well apparently Willow wanted pancakes and Orym tried to make them and it didn’t go well so he texted me to see if I wanted to meet them at the diner for breakfast.”

“Ah, I see,” Millie replies with a twinkle in her eyes as she walks Dorian to the door. “How are the pageant set pieces coming along?”

“Really good! Orym is really talented, we’ve managed to reuse a lot of what was used last year and make it into something completely new. Honestly, I stop multiple times a day and just marvel at how great at his job Orym is.” Dorian blushes and darts a glance over at her. “But, uh, you know that already.”

Millie tugs him into a hug. “Yes of course, but a mama is always glad to hear it from someone else. Especially someone whose opinion matters greatly to her boy.”

Dorian blushes again but nods and waves goodbye as he heads back to Fy’ra’s to wait for Barony.

Millie flips the sign on her store to ‘closed’ and pulls out her phone, heading for her private quarters and her teapot. 

“Nell, did you hear?”

____________________

Dorian waits outside Fy’ra’s place for the rumble of Orym’s truck, holding a travel coffee mug in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling through the pictures of the place Barony had shown him yesterday that he’d fallen in love with. The wind picks up and he shivers, taking another sip of coffee and flipping to another picture and imagining a home recording studio going in that room. He's hopeful that his offer will be accepted. Barony had promised to let him know as soon as she hears. 

He puts his phone in his pocket and lets his daydream take over. Making Zephrah a home base of operations for him, traveling when he needed to but having a home here. Spying Orym’s truck crawling down the road, he smiles to himself. Maybe making a family here too. 

He hops in the truck and twists around to say hello to Willow but she’s still asleep in her carseat, so he just pulls the blanket back up that had slipped down and turns back around. 

“Morning, Orym,” he yawns and slumps on the console, enjoying the heat bursting from the vents.

“Hey, got ya something.” Orym tosses a knit hat at him and starts driving toward Nell and Derrig’s place. 

Dorian inspects it curiously. It looked like a normal knit beanie but there was a hole in the top. He looks over to see if Orym is joking with him. 

“Orym, this hat has a hole in it.”

Orym laughs as he carefully turns through downtown. “Yeah, I know. It’s so you can wear your hair in a bun and still have a hat on. Your hair pokes out of the hole.”

Dorian’s eyes go wide and he rips the hat he’s wearing off, undoes the braid and tosses his hair up into a bun. Carefully he slips the hat over it and sure enough, the hair pokes out the top. He checks his reflection in the visor mirror and lets out a delighted laugh. 

“Orym, this is the best thing I think anyone has ever given me.”

Orym laughs.

“No Orym I’m serious. I was about to cut it all off just to survive the winter and hats, I’ve been dying without my buns.”

“No!” Orym bursts out and looks over at him with sad puppy eyes as the truck comes to a stop outside the Blade house. “Well I mean it’s your hair, do what you want, but I’m glad I could help rescue it from frustration snips.”

Dorian puts a hand on Orym’s shoulder. “Thank you, seriously.”

Orym pats his hand and they both hop out of the truck, Dorian starting to get Willow unbuckled from her car seat. She wakes up enough to smile at him and wrap him in a tight hug, so he gathers her close and wraps the blanket around her and follows Orym to the door. Derrig meets them there and ushers them out of the cold.

“Morning boys,” he says, mostly into his own coffee cup.

“Morning Dad.”

“Good morning Mr. Blade.”

Derrig grumbles as he herds them farther inside. “Mmm how many times I gotta tell ya you can call me Derrig, Dorian. Come on in, get the munchkin settled in. Though, she looks pretty content right there with you, bud.”

Dorian hoists her up a little more, cherishing the feeling of her snuggling in closer and gripping his coat tighter in her little hands. He follows Derrig into a guest bedroom where there’s a small bed clearly meant for grandchildren. He maneuvers Willow around so he has a free hand and pulls the covers down before kneeling and placing her gently in the bed and tucking the blankets in around her. Brushing her curls back from her face, he drops a kiss on her forehead and smiles when she sighs and snuggles into the pillow more. 

“Sleep well, princess,” he whispers as he comes back to his feet and starts to back away, bumping into Derrig who just slings an arm around him and guides him out the door with a knowing look into the kitchen where Nell is overloading Orym with a basket of food.

“Mmmph, Mom that’s plenty,” Orym protests around the orange roll he’s holding in his mouth, laughing as she narrows her eyes and adds another bundle to the basket. He turns to see Dorian returning. “Munchkin down?”

Dorian takes the basket from him and Orym smiles his thanks. “Yep, didn’t even wake up.”

Nell hands Dorian a foil covered plate with a fork poking out and hugs him around the food. “You boys be careful up there, alright? Call Derrig if you need anything.”

Orym gives her a hug and kiss on the cheek, before grabbing Dorian’s arm and pulling him to the door. “We will, don’t you worry.”

Orym pops into the room to check on Willow and kiss her goodbye and ushers Dorian out the door. They hop in the truck and Orym leans his head back against his seat laughing quietly. He turns to Dorian, who is peeking under the foil to see what’s on the plate. 

“So, apparently word of our breakfast yesterday got around town. Nell was beside herself with excitement.”

Dorian drops his fork into his lap with a groan. “Oh shoot, I meant to warn you and I forgot. I overheard people telling your mom in her store yesterday, I assume they talked…after.”

Orym smiles and shakes his head. “It’s fine, everyone is just. Excited for me I guess. Us. The potential of us.” 

“Yeah?” Dorian grins back. 

Orym starts the truck up, and pulls away from the house. “Yeah, in fact people had started dropping hints about their “really nice coworkers and family members” they could introduce me to here in the last few months. They just want me to be happy, you know?”

Dorian takes a bite of the still-warm orange roll Nell had given him and points the fork at him as they begin climbing the mountain. “Well, we share that sentiment. Happy looks good on you.”

Orym’s ears turn pink as he shakes his head.

“Though to be fair, flustered and grumpy yesterday also looked really good on you too - HEY!” Dorian ducks behind his breakfast as Orym swats blindly over at his arm, laughing. Orym redirects his hand to the radio, turning the music up and they travel in companionable silence to the Mill, Orym sneaking glances over at Dorian, who’s off in his own little world bopping his head to music only he can hear.

____________________

The pair spends the day on the mountain, checking trees, cutting trees, breaking for lunch and starting the process again after. A few hours after lunch, chilly wind blows as Dorian stretches his back, looking up at the sky with a frown. He looks around for Orym but doesn’t immediately see him and realizes he’s wandered off a little farther than he intended to. He starts following his footprints back, just as snowflakes begin falling. 

“Orym?” he calls out but the wind catches any response and drowns it out. He makes it back to the truck, but doesn’t see Orym anywhere nearby. “Orym!” 

He hears a faint noise in the distance and heads in that direction, tying a rope to the truck so he can find his way back. “Keep talking, I’ll find you!”

The snow begins picking up as he pushes his way towards the steadily louder voice until he reaches the edge of a dropoff. “Orym?”

“Down here!” Orym’s voice is shaking with cold. Dorian drops to the ground and sees Orym stuck in a pile of debris that had fallen with him in the crevasse. 

“Oh gods, Orym, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I banged up my leg but I’ll be alright. I can’t climb out, the wall just keeps crumbling.”

Dorian starts lowering the rope. “I’ve got a rope here, see if you can grab it.”

Orym reaches for it and grabs on securely, wincing as he puts weight on his leg. “I think I can pull myself up now, but my leg -”

“Just get close enough for me to reach you.” Dorian has both his hands out waiting. “C’mon Orym, we gotta get out of this storm.”

Orym sets his jaw and starts climbing. It’s slow going and he slips a few times but he gets within reach of Dorian’s waiting hands. Dorian grabs him and starts pulling him up as well until Orym is able to scramble over the side of the dropoff and land, panting half on top of Dorian and half in the snow, Dorian’s arms wrapped around him tightly.

“Ow,” Orym groans.

“Oh my gosh, Orym, what happened, are you alright?” Dorian sits them up, still holding him, hands shifting to Orym’s face to inspect it, while Orym’s hands go to his leg.

Orym pulls his pant leg up to reveal a decent gash along his shin that’s seeping blood slowly and sucks in a breath. “The ground gave out underneath me, didn’t realize where I was. Cut myself up real bad on the way down. May have bruised a rib or two on the landing, hard to tell.”

Dorian brushes Orym’s hair back. “Can you walk? We need to get you warm and dry and bandaged up and I don’t think this snow is going to let up anytime soon.”

Orym nods sharply. “Yeah, just. Let me lean on you. Go slow, yeah?”

Dorian helps him pull the pants legs back down and stands, pulling Orym up with him and wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

They make their way back, following Dorian’s rope, slowly until the truck is in sight and they both breathe a sigh of relief. Dorian opens the passenger side door and helps boost Orym in before closing it and winding up the rope and tossing it in the bed of the truck. He comes around to the driver’s side and pulls himself in, slamming the door. Orym had already shoved the keys into the ignition and started it but just the relief of the wind not screaming in his ears anymore was immense.

Dorain breathes for a moment before twisting around and searching for the first aid kit Orym had pointed out to him on his first day. Orym takes it and starts cleaning his leg with a hiss.

“Think you can drive us back?” Orym asks him, voice strained.

Dorian looks at the truck a little lost, then out at the snow. “Um. I think the last time I drove in snow I was 17, on a joyride with Cyrus, and immediately grounded for a month after.”

Orym tapes a bandage to his leg with a wince. “Yeah, then you got this.” He smiles weakly at Dorian. “Just go slow. I’ll tell you where to turn.” Dorian grips the steering wheel tightly. Orym taps his shoulder with a fist. “Hey, Dorian. I trust you. Let’s get home.”

Dorian takes a deep breath and puts the truck in drive, heart leaping into his throat as it jumps forward. In a much more unsteady manner than Orym’s usual confident driving, Dorian manages to drive them down the mountain according to Orym’s directions. Orym’s home suddenly appears and Dorian thinks he might cry in relief. Instead he parks as close as he dares and hops out, turns the engine off and circles the cab to help Orym out of the truck. They slowly make their way to the door, pausing as Dorian fumbles to unlock it and then stumble their way inside, shutting the door and sliding down it to sit in a heap in the foyer, basking in the heat and catching their breath.

“Oh gods, I’m never driving again.” Dorian leans against the door.

Orym laughs and pats his thigh. “You did great.”

Dorian turns to him and helps him get his coat off, digging through the pockets to find his phone and shoving it to him before tossing it aside. 

“Call your family and let them know what is going on before they send a search party up here.” Dorian grins and moves for Orym’s boots. 

Oryms winces as he moves his leg. “Good call.”

He dials his mom. “Hey Ma, yeah we’re alright. We made it back to my place okay. Yeah I know, this storm came out of nowhere. Tell Derrig to stand down, we’re home safe, we’re staying put. You all good to take Willow for the night?”

Dorian tugs Orym’s boots off and puts them aside as Orym reassures his family that he’s alright. He quickly strips his own winter gear off and pulls his hat off, letting his hair down and redoing the braid before heading to the fireplace and trying to remember how Orym had lit it before. By some miracle he manages to get it started and turns to look at Orym struggling to stand up, still on the phone. He rushes back over and catches his hand and hauls him up, supporting his waist. 

"We’ll call later and tell her goodnight.” Orym says, eyes locked onto Dorian’s. “Yeah, love you too, Ma.” He hangs up and rests his forehead on Dorian's shoulder. Dorian wraps him up in a hug.

“You scared me there, Orym,” Dorian admits softly.

“Scared myself. Couldn’t get out. Didn’t think you were going to be able to find me or get help.” Orym looks up at him. “If you hadn’t been there -”

“Shh. Don’t think about it,” Dorian cuts him off. “Let's get you cleaned up. You need a better bandage on that anyway.”

They shuffle into the kitchen and get Orym sat down. He starts turning a bit red. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I really think I’d better get my pants off first. It was a bit difficult to do anything with the pants rolled up.”

Dorian’s heart rate picks up and he tries so hard to remain cool as he nods. “Yeah, uh. Yeah, that makes…sense. Do you. I can. Um. How…Should I go get some gym shorts?”

“Yes!” Orym nods thankfully at the suggestion and tells Dorian what drawer to look in. Dorian flees the kitchen for Orym’s bedroom telling himself to cool it and calm down, his friend is hurt and needs help, stop thinking about him pantsless. While Dorian is gone, Orym hops his way to the dryer and pulls out a couple of towels he’d left in there and undoes his jeans, pulling them down carefully over the hastily bandaged wound and sitting back down, towel draped over him like a blanket, somewhat protecting his modesty. Dorian returns with a pair of shorts, a dry t-shirt, and a more robust first aid kit. Orym takes all of them with a quiet thanks. 

“I don’t know how else to help you,” Dorian admits softly, kneeling beside him, worried. “I’m a bit useless in this department.”

Orym shakes his head as he starts cleaning and redressing his leg. “You’ve done enough, Dorian. I’ve got it from here. Once I’ve got a good bandage on here I should be able to walk around fine, especially without the munchkin causing chaos tonight.”

“Does seem quiet without her, doesn’t it?” Dorian looks around.

“Yeah. This is the first night in a long time away from her. I hope she does alright at mom’s. Ow! Can you hold this?” 

“Yep!” Dorian takes the new bandage and holds it waiting further instructions.

Orym keeps working. “That was smart, grabbing the rope before coming to look for me.” 

“Well, I was barely finding my way around anyways and that was by following my footprints back. I got worried when I couldn't see or hear you.”

Orym shakes his head and takes the bandage from Dorian. “I know to watch out for those. I just wasn’t paying attention. Sorry that I worried you. Can you hand me that shirt, this one is getting really cold.”

Orym peels off the damp t-shirt and Dorian fumbles the shirt in his hands when suddenly presented with a shirtless Orym in front of him. He shoves the shirt into Orym’s hands and backs away before he does something ridiculous, and starts moving down the hallway. 

“I’m going to, um. Warm up in the shower, if that’s alright.” 

Orym pulls on the shirt and watches him go. “Yeah, go ahead, leave your stuff outside and I’ll toss it in the dryer.

Dorian all but runs for the bathroom. He grips the countertop and glares at himself in the mirror. Pull yourself together, Storm. It is a shirtless man. You’ve seen them before. He strips out of his clothes and tosses them out the door and hops in the shower, hoping the warm water will burn off the weird energy causing his skin to feel too tight.

Orym waits for the door to shut behind Dorian before burying his head in his hands. What was he doing, stripping down in front of him like that? He stands up and hops around trying to put his pants on, before going and grabbing Dorian’s clothes to toss in the dryer. He pulls out the load of towels and the sheets he’d just washed and folds the towels on the kitchen table before grabbing the sheets and making his way back to the guest bedroom to put them on Dorian’s bed. Thankfully, the cut on his legs wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t walk, it just ached a bit and he should probably take it easy tonight. 

He leaves the bedroom and moves down the hallway bumping into Dorian as he opens the bathroom door, wearing just a towel. All coherent thought leaves his brain as Orym is only able to focus on the droplet of water running down Dorian’s muscular chest and the strong hands holding him upright.

“Oh, gods. Sorry, I was wondering if my clothes were done.” Dorian trails off, looking down at the man he’s suddenly holding in his arms and drawn to with an undeniable magnetic force. He's not sure when he started leaning down.

“Um,” Orym tries very hard to remember what Dorian is talking about, but Dorian is right there and warm and solid under his hands and leaning down and Orym can feel his breath fan across his lips. He closes his eyes, stretching upwards.

The buzzer on the dryer goes off and they both jump.

Orym blinks his eyes open and sees Dorian staring at him wide-eyed. “Your, um. Your clothes are done now.”

“Great.” Dorian doesn’t move. Neither does Orym. 

Orym slides his hand up Dorian’s chest and into his hair, relishing in the shiver the other man can’t suppress. He pulls Dorian back down and rests his forehead against his. “I’m going to kiss you now, is that alright?”

Dorian answers by leaning forward and pressing his lips to Orym's and burying his hand in Orym's hair, the other hand fisting in his shirt. In all the songs he's written of love and romance, the simplicity and homecoming of this gentle touch astounds him and he sinks into Orym's embrace. 

They pull back slightly, faces flushed, breathing heavy and Orym's lazy grin shoots a new shock of desire through him and he leans back in, claiming his mouth once more, reveling in the feeling of his lips moving against Orym's. 

Then Orym tugs on his hair gently and Dorian gasps as Orym deepens the kiss, taking control, crowding him against the wall and making Dorian's head spin as Orym’s other hand traces down the smooth planes of his torso.

The dryer buzzes again and they both jump, knocking their heads together and grinning sheepishly. 

"I should probably get dressed," Dorian whispers. 

"Yeah, probably," Orym traces the shell of Dorian's ear, smirking when he shivers. "You've got goosebumps here." He brushes his lips along Dorian's neck. "And here." He trails a line of kisses along Dorian's shoulder. "And here." He looks up at Dorian mischievously through his eyelashes. "I'd hate to be a terrible host and cause you to catch a cold." 

Dorian snags him by the chin and pulls him in for another toe-curling kiss before turning and walking down the hallway towards the kitchen, looking over his shoulder to see if Orym is watching, smirking at Orym's slightly dazed expression.

Orym slumps against the wall, trying to catch his breath, running a hand through his hair, feeling his lips still tingling when he presses a hand to them. A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. He follows after Dorian. This was shaping up to be a fun night. 

Chapter Text

Orym catches back up with Dorian in the kitchen in time to see him buttoning his pants and bending back over to grab the shirt out of the dryer. He leans against the wall and lets his eyes trail over the muscular back as Dorian tugs the shirt down over his head and turns around, meeting his eyes. 

“Warmer now?” Orym grins.

Dorian flushes and shakes his head, grinning back at him, hands on his hips. “You are terrible, you know that?”

Orym pushes off the wall and begins to walk towards the pantry, smirking. “Mmm I have it on good authority that I am a very nice young man. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Dorian snorts and snags him around the waist as Orym passes by him and pulls him close, relishing being able to hold him even as he teases him, nuzzling his nose into the sensitive skin under Orym’s ear, "Yeah, you've got the entire town fooled don't you?"

Orym shivers at the sudden gravel in Dorian's voice as his breath teases the shell of his ear. He spins around in Dorian's arms, one hand cupping Dorian's face, thumb brushing over Dorian’s bottom lip, letting it pull slightly, the other burying in his hair.

"What are you gonna do, tell them?"

Dorian's response is to pull him back in, kissing him deep and living for the feeling of Orym's lips under his. He walks Orym backwards until he feels Orym’s back press up the island. Dorian slides his hands under Orym backside and lifts him to the countertop, covering Orym’s gasp of surprise with another kiss before trailing his lips down Orym's neck and nipping at his collarbone. Orym wraps his legs around Dorian’s waist, keeping him close. Minutes slip away as they continue exploring each other with heated kisses and nimble fingers. Distantly, Dorian hears the vibrating of a phone and whines as Orym pulls away and scrambles to answer, still a little breathless as Dorian continues pressing kisses to his neck.

"Hello?" Orym answers, stifling a groan as he tilts his head to the side, letting Dorian have better access to his neck. 

“Orym?” 

Orym's eyes widen, hearing his mother's voice on the other end of the line and he straightens, batting Dorian away, who looks at him with a confused pout.

"Ma? Everything alright?" Orym slips down from the counter and straightens his shirt, attempting to rebutton the flannel with one hand. Dorian leans in to hear the other person on the line, his confusion melting into matching concern.

"Yes, everything is fine, you just have a little girl here who misses you and insisted on calling," Millie says. "Are you alright, dear? You sounded a bit out of breath there?"

Bright red, Orym clears his throat. "Nope, I'm fine. Just had to rush for my phone to pick it up in time. Go ahead and put Willow on, Ma."

Dorian brushes a kiss to Orym’s cheek before backing away with a soft smile and rummaging through the pantry and pulling out food to cook, eyes drifting back over to where Orym is talking on the phone and wandering around the dining area, love for his daughter softening his face as he reacts to whatever Willow is chattering about. Dorian turns back to stirring dinner on the stove and feels warmth bloom in his chest processing what just happened.

He'd kissed him. Multiple times. And it had been good. Really good. His lips still tingled now from the memory of the last hour. He brushes his fingers over his mouth, smiling. A hand on his shoulder breaks him out of his thoughts. Turning he sees Orym standing beside him, grinning and still on the phone. 

"Yeah, I've got him right here, Pumpkin."

He holds the phone out to Dorian, who takes it automatically. 

"Willow wanted to say goodnight to you also," Orym whispers. 

Dorian smiles and his heart melts. “Hello?”

“HI!”

Dorian listens with a soft smile as Willow chatters on in his ear about all the things she’s done with Grandma and continues stirring dinner, motioning to Orym that it is finished.

Orym pours wine and sets the table, slipping past Dorian to serve dinner up on plates and put it on the table. He comes back to where Dorian is leaning against the counter and slips his arm around his waist, pulling the phone from his ear and putting it on speaker so Willow’s sweet voice fills the kitchen as he leans his head on Dorian’s shoulder.

“-make cookies and I got sprinkles on ‘em!”

“Oh wow, that’s great!” Dorian leans against Orym, running hand through his hair. “What color are the sprinkles?”

“Winners Cres!”

Dorian feels Orym laughing silently into his shoulder and lets out his own laugh. “Winter’s Crest colors? Just those colors?”

“Mm and princess colors.”

“Yeah? And what colors are those?”

They both hear a dramatic sigh from the little girl on the other end and they grin at each other as she begins to list every color under the rainbow as princess colors before interrupting herself with a huge yawn.

“Sounds like someone needs to go to bed.” Dorian says.

“Nooooo,” Willow whines.

“Well the sooner you sleep, the sooner it’s morning and you get your dad back,” Dorian looks down at Orym.

“Promise?” Willow’s little voice is heartbreaking in its tired earnestness and Orym’s face crumples slightly.

“Promise, sweetheart,” Dorian says softly. “Goodnight Willow.”

“Night night, Dorian! 

The phone call ends and Orym wraps his arms around Dorian, whispering, “Thank you.”

Dorian presses a kiss to Orym’s temple and pulls him to the table. “Of course.”

They eat and watch the moonlit snow fall outside enjoying easy conversation, and afterwards Orym insists that Dorian not help with the dishes again, instead shooing him off to the living room to relax by the fire. Dorian curls up on the couch and sips his wine, watching the flames dance. He pulls out his phone and sees a text from Barony.

Your offer was accepted, congrats! Come
by my office tomorrow and we’ll finish up
paperwork.

Dorian smiles wide and quickly replies, tossing his phone back down on the couch and closing his eyes, feeling secure and at peace. He feels the couch dip and squints an eye open to see Orym joining him, leaning against the opposite armrest and letting their legs tangle in the middle. Dorian smiles and lets his eyes shut again, shifting to rest a hand on Orym’s leg, and sighing contentedly when he feels the warmth of Orym’s hand on his knee. The crackle of the fire is the only sound in the house as they finish their wine and watch the fire burn down to embers.

“We should sleep,” Orym’s husky voice breaks the silence. “It’s getting late.”

Dorian hums in agreement. “It’ll be an early morning tomorrow.”

Orym sighs and heaves himself off of the couch, holding out a hand to pull Dorian up. Dorian takes their glasses into the kitchen and places them in the sink, while Orym checks the locks on the doors and begins turning out lights. Dorian follows him down the hall and pauses in the hallway outside the guest bedroom. He looks between his door and where Orym has also stopped and is looking at him with an unreadable look on his face. 

“Well, um, goodnight Orym,” Dorian begins to turn away but his hand is caught in Orym’s. A brief kiss brushes his lips as Orym whispers goodnight against his lips. Dorian ducks back down to capture Orym’s lips again, pulling him in firmly against him, burying a hand in Orym’s hair and not bothering to silence the pleased groan that is pulled from him when Orym responds in kind. Dorian breaks away, panting and puts distance between the two of them. 

Touching his lips, still a bit dazed, he whispers, “I should, go?”

Orym swallows hard, eyes flitting to the guest bedroom door and back to Dorian. “Or...”

Dorian’s eyes widen and he leans forward slightly. “Or?”

Orym’s face softens even as his eyes heat and he reaches out. “Or you could stay. With me?”

Dorian’s breath leaves him in a rush as he breathes, “Oh gods yes.” 

He sweeps Orym up in another searing kiss as Orym walks them backwards into his room.

____________________

The next morning Orym blinks awake slowly, feeling a strong arm draped over him and settles back into the sleepy chill of the morning, feeling secure under the weight of the tanned muscle. Shifting slightly so he can look at Dorian’s sleeping face, he brushes a wayward strand of Dorian’s hair off of his forehead. He lets his fingers trail down along the soft skin of Dorian’s face and neck, dancing across his collarbone and broad shoulders and down the arm stretched across Orym’s waist. Dorian’s nose wrinkles in his sleep and he snuggles into the pillow more. Orym grins and also snuggles back into the warmth, this time nuzzling into the warm chest until the arm around him tightens and he sighs happily.

Half-awake, Dorian lifts his head slightly to see that Orym is rearranging himself to snuggle in closer and wordlessly pulls him in before he moves too much and wakes them both up. Settling Orym in close, he hums contentedly and lets sleep take him once more.

When they wake later to Orym’s alarm, Dorian is grumbly and hiding under the blankets and Orym snickers while turning off his alarm and extricating himself from Dorian’s whiny grasp and shivers in the cold. Searching for his clothes, he grabs a pair of sweatpants and hops into them, padding for the kitchen and coffee. He returns triumphant with two cups of coffee and leans against the doorway with a smile, seeing that while Dorian had succeeded in sitting up, he’d fallen asleep again with the covers wrapped around him while sitting up in the bed. Walking over, Orym sets the coffee down and runs a hand through Dorian’s hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Wake up sleepyhead.”

The grumbles coming from inside the pile of blankets are adorable and Orym begins tugging them down until he can see Dorian blinking owlishly at him.

“Hi there,” Orym smiles at him. “I have coffee for you.”

Dorian blinks again and reaches out for the cup as Orym laughs and hands it to him, watching fondly as Dorian takes a deep sip and sighs happily. 

"G'morning," Dorian mumbles, brushing his bedhead wild hair out of his face and smiling at Orym before leaning his forehead into Orym’s chest and humming happily when Orym begins brushing gentle fingers through his hair. 

"I know we need to get moving," Dorian murmurs. "But I just want to stay right here in this moment."

Orym leans into him as Dorian continues, "The only thing that would be better is if there was a little girl here snuggled up with us."

Orym feels his heart catch and he tilts Dorian’s face up to meet his and kisses him hard, taking the coffee cup from his hand and setting it aside before crawling into Dorian's lap and laughing as Dorian groans happily and responds by falling backwards, toppling them both back into bed. 

____________________

Dorian is holding his shirt in one hand and drinking his now-cold coffee when Orym comes out of his bathroom brushing his teeth and gestures at his neck. 

"What am I supposed to do about these?" Orym asks around the toothbrush. 

Dorian looks over to see that Orym’s neck and collarbone are littered with darkening bruises. He grins a little shyly and sets his coffee down, walking over to brush a gentle thumb over one of them, grin turning to a smirk when Orym’s eyes fall shut and his breath stutters.

“Oops?” He whispers.

Orym opens his eyes and glares at him. “I haven’t had to worry about covering these up since highschool!” He stomps back into the bathroom. 

Dorian tosses his head back laughing and follows him in, tugging on his shirt. He waits for Orym to finish rinsing his mouth before wrapping him in a hug, meeting his eyes in the mirror and grinning mischievously before nipping at Orym’s shoulder again and dancing away laughing again when Orym snaps the towel at him.

“Turtleneck?” Dorian calls out from the hallway.

____________________

“Daddy!” Willow races out the front door of Millie’s place and leaps into Orym’s arms, giggling all the while. Dorian reaches out to steady him on the slippery sidewalk and waves hello to Millie, standing in the doorway with a fond look on her face. 

“Hey there, Pumpkin,” Orym breathes her in for a moment before continuing to carefully walk inside, still carrying her. “Did you have fun with Grandma?”

She nods into his neck, still holding him tightly. 

“Good, good,” Orym relaxes a little bit. “Let’s get inside! It’s so cold out here!”

Dorian follows them in waving back to Willow when she waves over Orym’s shoulder at him.

Orym walks her into the living room, loathe to let her go and Dorian hovers in the entryway with Millie. “He was worried she might have a hard time being away from home unexpectedly.”

Millie presses her hands to her heart. “Oh honey. No, we had a few sad moments but for the most part she did alright. It helps that she’s stayed the night here before in the past.”

Dorian smiles. “That’s good to hear.”

Millie leans in. “She was especially glad to talk to both of you before bed last night. I think that helped quite a bit.”

Dorian looks over to where Willow is snuggled up with Orym on the couch. “I’m glad. I’m glad to help however I can.”

He smiles and heads over to sit next to Orym, letting his arm drape across the back of the couch and his hand curl around his shoulder. Willow wiggles so that she can flop her legs into his lap and cuddles closer. Dorian tugs one of her drooping socks back up and lets his hand rest on her shin, turning to look at Orym. 

“See? Now it’s perfect,” he whispers.

Orym feels the words hit him like a gut punch. The feeling of home and rightness is overwhelming and he can feel the tears coming so he just nods and leans against Dorian, taking strength from him and enjoying the peace while it lasts, tucking the moment away to be remembered later.

Soon enough Willow gets restless and wants down and they let her go, Dorian joining her on the floor and Orym slipping into the kitchen where his mother had retreated. He wraps her up in a hug that she returns fiercely.

“Oh sweetheart,” her voice shakes with emotion. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks, Ma,” he whispers. “I’m happy too.”

Chapter Text

Dorian joins them in the kitchen, freezing stock still when Millie throws her arms around him in a big hug. He hesitantly hugs her back gently, looking a little confused over at Orym.

She pulls back, still holding his shoulders. “Don’t mind me, I’m just so happy you’ve come into our lives, Dorian. We’re all the better for it.” She squeezes and lets him go, swiping a tear from her cheek.

Dorian turns to watch her go before looking back to Orym. “Um.”

Orym waves him off, coming to slip an arm around Dorian’s waist. “Don’t mind her. Did you need something?”

Dorian leans into him. “I’m actually going to run back to Fy’ra’s and get new clothes. I’ve got an appointment I need to get to.”

Orym looks up at him. “Right, yeah. No worries. Text you later then?”

Dorian scans the room and seeing no one, bends down brushing his lips across Orym’s, feeling the other man melt against him and smiling against his lips. “Yeah, text you later.”

One last lingering kiss, and Dorian pulls himself away and begins the process of saying goodbye to Willow and reassuring her that he’d see her again soon. 

He slips out the front door and strolls down the block, smiling in the morning sun. A few people call out his name and wave hello and he waves back as he turns to open Fy’ra’s gate. The door creaks a bit as he opens it and he kicks off his snowy boots in the entryway, and hangs his coat on one of the hooks available. He slips his way down the hall and pops into the kitchen and snags a cookie and a mug of coffee from the still warm pot. As he heads towards the stairs to his room, there’s a dual ahem from the living room and he freezes, a sip of coffee still in his mouth. Fy’ra is standing in the doorway to the living room and Dariax is right behind her.

“And just where have you been, mister?” Fy’ra looks at him, brow arched, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Dorian inhales the coffee and coughs. “What.”

Fy’ra giggles. “Oh we’re just kidding Dorian, it’s none of our business.”

Dariax looks at her aghast, slipping around her to stand beside Dorian. “Speak for yourself, lady, I want all the details.”

Dorian finishes coughing the coffee from his lungs. “Details?” He croaks.

Dariax grins, thumping him on the back helpfully. “You went out with Orym yesterday. Got stuck in the snowstorm. The munchkin was at the grandparents. You two have been dancing around each other for weeks now. You can’t stand there and tell me nothing happened.”

Dorian blushes.

Dariax punches the sky with his good arm. “Yes!”

Fy’ra gasps and clasps her hands to her chest. “Oh something did happen?”

Dorian smiles, still red. “No comment. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to change clothes so I can get to an appointment on time.”

Dariax huffs. “C’mon ya gotta give us something.”

Dorian smirks and starts heading up the stairs. When he reaches the first landing he pauses and calls down, “Does Orym usually wear turtlenecks?”

Dariax frowns. “No, he says it feels like they’re choking him.”

Dorian nods thoughtfully. “Interesting. Wonder what made him put one on today?”

Dariax and Fy’ra look at each other puzzled before their eyes widen and they screech, “ DORIAN! ”

Dorian’s laugh carries down the stairs as he continues upward.

____________________

Orym gets Willow bundled up and into the truck, heading out to the general store where Derrig and Nell are getting opened up for the day. Willow refuses to leave his arms and he isn’t complaining as she snuggles in closer and they head inside. He needed to get more supplies to replenish what he and Dorian had used in the first aid kits yesterday. 

He heaves a sigh and presses a kiss into Willow’s curls. Too many close calls recently. Too many accidents. He's glad he's usually prepared, but he makes a mental note to arrange some more emergency training for the Mill employees once Dariax has healed. He opens the door and the familiar smells of the general store wash over him with the dingaling of the door chime and the dual ‘Welcome In’ choruses from opposite sides of the building. 

Orym smiles. He'd loved coming here as a kid. He and Will had been holy terrors from the moment they could duck the watchful eyes of either of their mothers. Willow perks up slightly at the sound of grandparent's voices but clings tighter to him and he puts a reassuring hand on her back. He's also loath to let her out of his sight today. 

He’d also finally finished Nell’s Winter’s Crest present Derrig had commissioned from him, so he heads in the direction he’d heard Derrig’s voice coming from.

“Hey Dad?” He calls out. Derrig’s head pops up from the next aisle over. 

“Orym! Hey bud, one second.” He disappears again and Orym can hear clanking and shoving before Derrig pops back up again and jogs around the corner into the aisle Orym had wandered down. Derrig hugs them both gently, keeping an arm around Orym’s shoulders.

“Man that storm last night just came out of nowhere. We were glad to get a call from Millie that you were safely tucked away. Did it get bad up there?”

Orym’s eyes dart down to Willow’s head, where it’s nestled into his shoulder. Derrig’s eyes go wide and he nods. Orym clears his throat. “Well we got quite a bit of snow. Filled up our footprints. Anyways, wanna head out to the truck with me, I got something for you to look at before Mom sees it.”

Derrig rubs his hands together, taking the subject change. “Yes! Oooh I’ve been waiting anxiously to get to see the finished product.”

They sneak back out the front door, jumping when it chimes again and bolting for the truck, Willow starting to giggle at their shenanigans. Derrig helps lower the liftgate and Orym slides the box out so Derrig can open it. Inside is a beautifully crafted spice cabinet with delicate carvings etched along the walls.

Derrig stands there, speechless, running a gentle finger over the carving of a blade wrapped in ivy. He turns to look at Orym, standing beside him with quiet pride. Derrig wraps him in a hug, careful of Willow, but holding him tightly. 

“It’s beautiful. She’s gonna love it,” Derrig whispers. He pulls back, looking back at the carving. “How have you found the time to do this?”

Orym laughs and leans his head on Derrig’s shoulder. “Well Dorian has been a huge help during the day so I’m not behind on anything with Dariax down. Set pieces for the pageant are mostly reused with minor modifications that Dorian has been able to help with as well. You and Mom and Ma watching Willow for me during the day keeps me from worrying about her safety. Dariax is fully managing the tree stand so we’re not having to take shifts on that so that clears up some hours in the day. And the rest of it,” he shrugs. “If I can’t sleep I just go carve the worries away.”

Derrig hugs him again. “We’re proud of you, son. You’re doing an amazing job, you know that? Especially with everything going on this year.”

Orym ducks his head.

Derrig thumps him on the back. “I mean it. It’s been a tough few years, I know. For all of us. This year feels…I don’t know. Different. Lighter.”

Orym looks up at him and smiles. “I know what you mean.”

Derrig closes the box and carefully picks it up. As he starts to walk off, he tosses over his shoulder, “Can’t help but wonder if a certain musician hanging around might have something to do with that?”

Orym’s jaw drops and he flushes bright red, stammering as he closes up the trunk and follows him inside. Derrig leads him into the back office where he grabs some tape to tape the box shut and laughs at Orym’s flustered appearance. 

“I’m just messing with you, kiddo. Don’t get me wrong, the talk about town leads me to believe we’re all doing much better than we were.”

Orym snorts.

Derrig shakes his head. “They mean well, but ain’t it funny how they know our business before we do?” He grabs a marker and in bold letters writes NELL I SWEAR IF YOU OPEN THIS BEFORE WINTER’S CREST I’M MOVING IN WITH ORYM :( and sets the box carefully on the floor. “Anyways, all I’m saying is that with the baby on the way, you and Dorian doing whatever it is you’re doing, and us getting to hang out with Willow - we’re all just in a better place this year than we’ve ever been.”

Orym scuffs his boot on the floor. “Yeah. I think you’re right.” He hefts Willow back up from where she’s slipped down a bit. “We have a lot more to look forward to this year.” 

Derrig’s phone chimes and he pulls it out and his eyes go wide. “Speaking of which - ”

Nell burst through the door. “Did you see?!?”

Derrig is already grabbing his coat and keys, tossing Nell’s coat to her.

Orym’s phone chimes too and he pulls it out to see a text from Ted that reads, “Hey fam, it’s Go Time.” and his heart leaps into his throat. He puts a hand on Nell’s arm where she’s fluttering in excited worry. 

“Go on, I’ll close down the store.” 

She looks like she’s about to burst into tears but instead just hugs him and hands him her keys, kissing his cheek and Willow’s and rushing out the door, Derrig right behind her waving an absentminded goodbye.

Orym watches them go with a small smile and squats down, putting Willow down in front of him. 

“Hey pumpkin, we gotta get the store closed up while Grandma and Granddad go make sure Aunt Maeve and the baby get born okay.” 

Willow blinks sleepily from where she’d been dozing on Orym’s shoulder. “Baby?”

Orym nods. “The baby is coming soon!”

Willow smiles and claps. “Yay baby! I help!” 

Orym smiles and squeezes her hand. “I’m so glad you wanna help. Aunt Maeve and Aunt Ted are going to make sure the baby gets here okay and we’re gonna help by making sure everything is okay here. Can we do that?” 

Willow nods seriously and walks out of the office with a purpose. Orym scrambles after her but watches as she climbs up on one of the chairs sitting next to the shop window and flips the sign to CLOSED and waves sweetly to the confused person about to enter the store before climbing down. 

Orym cracks the door open. “Hey there Mayor, sorry do you need anything that can’t wait until later?”

Keyleth startles. “Oh hi Orym. Um, no I was just browsing. Maybe grab a few things. Nothing vital. Is something wrong?”

Orym smiles. “No, no, Nell and Derrig just can’t man the store today so I’m closing up for them.”

Keyleth relaxes. “Oh, that’s fine, I’ll come back another day. Send them my love.”

She starts to walk off before freezing and turning back around. “Wait does that mean - “

Orym taps his finger to his lips in a shhh motion while nodding. Keyleth claps her hands excitedly before calming herself. 

“Oh, send everyone my love and best wishes,” she says with an overexaggerated wink and motions zipping her mouth shut. 

Orym laughs and waves her off as she leaves, closing the door and locking it so no one else comes in. He turns around to see Willow has found the broom and is wandering around trailing it behind her uselessly and snickers behind his hand, trying desperately to contain his laughter so she doesn’t think he’s laughing at her.

With a deep breath he calms himself and says, “Alright, pumpkin. Let’s get this place closed up.”

____________________

Dorian climbs the stairs to where Barony’s office is located and knocks gently on the door. She swings it open a few moments later and beckons him in.

“Welcome to the chaos! Want anything to drink?” She offers a water bottle and he accepts it, sitting in a chair.

“Alright then, Mr. Storm. Are you ready to become a permanent member of Zephrah?” Barony smiles at him and gathers paperwork. 

Dorian feels those words settle into his heart. For so long he’d only stared longingly at tourist photos of this place and now he’s here purchasing a home and making it his own. He swallows the lump in his throat and nods, reaching for the pen. They complete the rest of the ‘boring stuff’ as Barony called it and just like that, the home was his. She drops both sets of keys in his hands. 

“Congrats Dorian and let me be the first to welcome you home to Zephrah.”

He can feel his hands shaking as he looks at the keys resting in them. Home.  

“Thank you.” He manages to whisper. 

She hands him another business card. It was a car rental place. She winks when he looks up at her. “It’s a bit far to walk, and if you’re wanting to get it furnished before you bring my sweet niece and brother up there, you’ll need your own wheels.”

Dorian flushes and clears his throat. “Well I was actually hoping I could get your help for some of that.”

Barony’s phone chimes and she glances down and jumps up from the desk. “Why don’t we schedule some time to chat about that another time, dear. I need to go.”

Dorian stands, gathering his copies of things and tucking the keys safely in his pocket. “Is something wrong?” 

Barony’s eyes sparkle as she gathers her things and they head out the door. “No, not at all. Maeve has gone into labor so it’s a Blade family round up. I gotta go get Lita and Opal and drive to the hospital.”

Dorian smiles broadly. “How exciting! Well don’t let me keep you.”

He waves goodbye as Barony starts a phone call and gets in her own vehicle. He pulls out the keys and stares at them again. 

He has a home now. 

He pulls out his phone and texts the address and a picture to Cyrus before walking back to Fy’ra’s house. 

____________________

Orym pulls into the hospital parking lot, gathers up the bag of toys and distractions for Willow and walks with her hand in his across the lot. He’s directed to a waiting room that is already filled with family members and waves hello as they notice him coming in. Willow runs to hug her aunts and Orym follows along, passing out snacks and water bottles he’d brought along. He settles down in a chair between Opal and Lita, leaning over to Opal, keeping his eyes on the visibly anxious Derrig pacing a distance away.

“What’s the latest?”

She pops her gum. “We haven’t heard much, other than everything is going as planned. Someone needs to remind Pops over there that these things take time and he’s gonna wear a hole in the carpet.”

Lita leans over. “Ain’t gonna happen, he’s always this way. No matter what medical procedure is happening, he’s a ball of stress. Just gotta let him walk it out.” 

She looks at Orym, eyes the turtleneck. “Morning, Boss. Sleep in this morning?”

Orym can feel the tips of ears start to heat and clears his throat. “Yeah, uh got caught out in the storm yesterday and couldn’t get back to town. Had to come down to grab Willow this morning and she was feeling clingy. Plus I figured you’d enjoy having the office to yourself.”

Lita arches a brow, elbowing Barony who eyeballs the turtleneck and the blushing. Opal leans in closer and Orym begins to sweat. 

“You couldn’t get back to town, eh?” Lita says slowly. “Poor Dorian, not being able to get back to Fy’ra’s place.”

Orym shifts, feeling cornered. “Yeah, uh. He was pretty bummed about having to wear the same clothes the next day.”

Opal snorts. “Mmmhm I’m sure that’s what he was worried about.”

Barony leans around Lita. “How ever did you pass the time, Orym? All alone. The two of you.”

Orym crosses his arms and pretends to think. “Oh you know,” he says, his voice cracking higher than normal. “We just cooked dinner and well. He helped get my leg bandaged up.”

All teasing sharpens into concern. 

“What happened to your leg?”

“Why did you need help?”

“What’s wrong with your leg?”

The barrage of questions come from all three at the same time and he puts his hands out to stop them. “I cracked through some thin ground and fell down into a small crevasse on the mountain. Dorian found me, got me out, got me home and bandaged up. I’m fine.”

All three relax, remembering he drove himself there and walked in just fine.

Opal sighs and leans into her hand. “Oh man, that sounds like something straight out of a romance novel. Did the angels sing when your rescuer appeared?”

Orym glares. “Uh. I think there may have been a bird chirping?”

Barony leans in further, to Lita’s annoyance. “Was him getting you bandaged up all romantic and full of tension, like in the movies?”

Orym continues sinking further into the chair glaring at all of them. “...no,” he says weakly.

Lita bats Barony back and swoons against him with a giggle. “Did your eyes catch in the candlelight?”

Orym looks at her in confusion. “When did I get candles?”

Lita leans back thoughtfully. “Huh, did I make up the candles?”

The other two nod and Lita shrugs. “Would have made it more romantic.”

Orym shakes his head in disbelief.

The three of them look at each other and nod.

Barony leans back in. “The real question is - ”

Lita takes over, “- what’s got you wearing a turtleneck - “

Opal interrupts, “- when you are on record many times saying you hate the feeling of them on your neck.”

Orym has nearly sunk into said turtleneck at this point before sighing. He runs a hand through his hair and sits up, a smile crossing his face remembering the events of the night before and he yanks the neck of the turtleneck down and they all gasp. 

“I may have kissed him.”

All three squeal.

“Multiple times.” 

Lita smacks his arm. “Details, I want details.”

____________________

Cyrus’ phone buzzes on the counter where he’d left it alone for just a moment getting a glass of water. Rheston Wyvernwind picks up his son’s phone and sees a text from his wayward youngest. It contains an address he quickly types into his own phone and continues on his way to his office. Settling in at his computer, he types the address into the search bar and finds an idyllic mountain town greeting him in the search results. He sneers and pulls up the airline’s booking site.

“Got you.”

Chapter Text

Dorian returns to Fy’ra’s home and sits in the living room, wrapping himself in a blanket and just taking in everything that has happened to him in the last 24 hours. Ember trots up and rests her hand in his lap and he absently begins petting her. He has a home, he has a future, he has most of his new album written and the rest planned, he might even have a family here. His mind drifts back to golden tinted memories of the night before. He’d been so flustered helping Orym get bandaged up and trying to not get caught staring he’d managed to miss the half sleeve tattoo running down Orym’s bicep, up around his shoulder and across his chest. He’d paid much closer attention later and after when they were tangled up in sheets, fingers tracing the swirling lines, Orym’s husky voice describing what each part means and when he’d gotten it done. The simple trust Dorian has been extended by both Orym and Willow and by extension, the entire Blade family and the rest of the town humbled him. He swipes away a rogue tear and laughs at himself. He seems to be doing that a lot lately. 

Footsteps catch his and Ember’s attention and they look up to see Fy’ra walking in. 

“Welcome back, dear.” She smiles at him. “Mysterious appointment go well?”

Dorian nods and pats the couch next to him. 

She joins him on the couch. “You’ve heard the news then?” She asks, tossing a blanket over her legs and scratching Ember’s ears.

He nods. “I was with Barony. Very exciting.”

She presses a hand to her chest. “I’m all aflutter in the waiting. Have to calm myself somehow.” She looks over at him. “What were you doing with Barony?”

He drops a key in her hand.

“What’s this?” she asks, eyebrow raised. 

Dorian flushes. “It’s mine. I, uh, I bought a house here. Barony helped.”

She gasps and throws her arms around him as Ember starts barking. “Dorian! Does that mean you’re staying?”

He nods against her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her in a returning hug.

He pulls back. “I was wondering if you could drive me out there? Maybe help me get an idea of how to decorate and furnish?”

Fy’ra smiles and cups his face in her hands. “I’d be honored, dear.”

____________________

“Well, uh, sir, uh, here we are,” the older uber driver says cautiously as the car comes to a stop in the town center of Zephrah. The passenger had been nothing but rude since getting in his vehicle and he was trying hard to not make him any more angry.

Rheston Wyvernwind looks out the window at the picturesque town with a smirk and shoves his gloves on, getting out of the car without a word. He stands there, impatiently straightening his coat as the elderly driver hastens to grab the small piece of luggage from the trunk and hands it to him. Rheston yanks it without a word and walks off. 

“You’re welcome?” the driver says, softly enough that the wind snatches it away. He sighs and closes the trunk, locking his car up and heading for the diner. He deserves some pie after that drive.

Rheston stomps along the sidewalk, long stride eating up the cobblestone. He pastes a charming smile on his face, heading into the nearest store. The smile slips slightly into a sneer seeing it decked floor to ceiling in the cheesiest of Winter’s Crest decor and he grinds his teeth a moment. 

“Hello, dear, welcome to Ketterling’s Decorations! Are you looking for some Winter’s Crest decorations?” The elderly Mrs. Ketterling tucks her knitting into her apron and stands slowly to greet him, smoothing her white hair in its perfect coif.

Rheston shakes his head. “No. I’m actually looking for someone, I was hoping you could point me in the right direction. I’m looking for my son, Dorian Wyvernwind.”

Mrs. Ketterling frowns. “Oh dear. I don’t know any Dorian Wyvernwinds.”

Rheston’s smile slips even more. “Alright, well then I’ll just - ”

“But I did know a Wyndotte! Land sakes, that was more than 30 years ago. Spirits, I haven’t thought about that family in ages. You know, they moved on into the city, when their girls all got married and moved on. They just didn’t have anyone around and I think they were lonely. Such a shame, you know.”

Rheston’s face looks more like he stepped on a wet spot with his socks on than a smile as he interjects halfway out the door, “That’s alright, I’ll just ask someone else. Thank you!”

“Oh well, you have a nice day, love. Maybe try the - ” The door clicks shut and she sits down. “Humph. What an unpleasant man.”

She dials the store across the street. It rings for a second. “Zephrah Tea and Biscuits this is-”

Mrs. Ketterly interrupts. “Sue, we have a problem. Someone is looking for Dorian. Call everyone.”

____________________

Rheston glares at the Closed sign on the general store and squints in the window, looks at his watch, looks at their hours, and squints inside again. What kind of business is closed during business hours and peak tourist season? Incompentant backwards hickabilly town. Why on earth his son would run away here he has no idea but it’s apparent that he needs to get him back home where he belongs. 

He continues down the street and into another store, barely containing an eyeroll at the figurine display in the shop window and the others for sale inside. The young store employee, trendy silver and purple hair tied up in space buns chiming with jingle bell accessories that match their obnoxious holiday sweater, is just hanging up the phone, eyes slightly narrowed before smiling brightly at him with bright red lips.

“Well hi there and happy Winter’s Crest! Can I help you find the perfect gift?”

Rheston’s smile is less smile and more sneer before he catches himself and smiles, walking closer. “I’m supposed to be meeting my son here in town, Dorian Wyvernwind, I just can’t seem to find him anywhere. I was really hoping I might be able to get a direction he might be at. The general store seems to be closed.”

The employee, name tag proudly saying Ivy (they/she) with holographic star stickers all around it, frowns thoughtfully, tapping their chin. “Well if the general store is closed, you may be out of luck. Nell always knows where anyone is. It’s like her super power. Now let me think.” Ivy tilts their head, making their hair jingle some more. “Haven’t had a Dorian come in here this season. Met a lovely couple a few weekends back, they were named Damien and Doriene. Now you tell me that isn’t fated soulmates?”

Rheston immediately starts backing out of the store.

“You might try the diner, the cinnamon rolls are to die for!” Ivy calls out. 

The bell jingles as the door closes. The smile slips from their face as they pick up the phone again, walking to the window.

“Tempest Diner, this is Emma, can I interest you in our mountain famous pie or cinna-

“Emma, babe it’s Ivy. Terrible man headed your way. He’s looking for Dorian. Stall him, misdirect, whatever it takes, don’t tell him the truth.”

“Ew yeah Sue called a moment ago. I think I see him outside. Suit? Not a warm enough coat?”

“Totally, he’s gotta be like. A reporter or something. Do your worst. Love you.”

“You got it. Love you too.”

Emma hangs up the phone and jogs across the diner. 

“Oh Emma could I get a refill - ” 

 “One moment, Milton, gotta take care of something.”

Rheston walks into the diner and Milton hides behind his coffee cup. “Nevermind honey. You take your time. Holler if you need help with that one.”

Emma looks at him. “That’s your terrible customer? The one you drove out here?”

Milton nods.

Emma narrows her eyes at Rheston, “Ivy just called, said he’s looking for Dorian and is being very rude and we need to stall him.”

Milton stiffens. “That nice young man I drove out here over a month ago? Well you do your best to get rid of him, and I'll let Bobbie Jo know you may need us as back up.”

Emma smiles at him before straightening her shoulders, putting on her bubbly server persona and walking over. Milton slips away to the back of the store to grab the other server's attention.

“Welcome to the Tempest Diner, I’m Emma! Can I get you seated and started with some of our mountain famous pie or cinnamon rolls?” Emma is all charm as she approaches.

Rheston doesn’t bother with the smile this time. “I’m looking for Dorian.”

Emma exaggeratedly looks around. “Well, sir. I’ve got a Milton, a Bobby, a Bobbie Jo, Caroline and William, and over there is Jesse and Grace and the little one but no Dorians.”

Rheston leans aggressively forward. “Look, sweetheart. I don’t need an attitude. I want to know where my son is.”

Emma puts her pen out under his nose and drops the charm. “Back up slick, I ain’t your sweetheart. You’re one to talk about attitude. You check yours at the door, or you don’t get to eat the best cooking this side of the Sierras. So shush. Now. How old is your kid?”

Rheston gapes at her before recovering and huffs, “He’s twenty-five.”

Emma snorts. “Twenty-five? Look, buddy, if you can’t find your twenty-five year old, that sounds like they don’t wanna be found. That is a full grown adult, my dude.”

Rheston lifts a finger and points it at her but Milton and Bobbie Jo step up beside her and he snaps his mouth shut and turns and walks out. 

He’d seen a sign for a bed and breakfast. This was turning into more of an ordeal than he was anticipating and if Dorian hadn’t stayed there, maybe the owner knew where he was now. Either way, the afternoon was fast approaching and he was going to possibly have to stay the night.

____________________

Orym can sense Willow getting restless in the waiting room as the afternoon drags on and knows their time is limited. Once his sisters have fully accepted they’re not prying any more salacious details out of him other than what they can make him blush about, they went back to chatting about other things, making sure everyone knew what day was their turn to bring food to the new parents, and Orym keeping a steady flow of water and coffee to Derrig who can’t sit still for more than five minutes. 

Orym makes sure Willow is mostly contained with her coloring book and goes to join Derrig at the window. 

“Hey I think I’m going to take Willow back home, see if Ma can take her for the night, maybe grab everyone some dinner. Do you need me to get you or Nell anything from home?”

Derrig startles and relaxes, turning to look at where Willow has ceased coloring and is now throwing crayons at her coloring book, and Orym winces.

“Willow! No ma’am. We don’t throw our crayons.” He calls out. 

Lita looks down from where she and Barony had been in an intense conversation and intervenes. 

“Yeah, we gotta head out, she’s getting tired.”

Derrig claps his shoulder. “No worries. We’ll keep you updated. If you can, maybe run by the house and grab Nell a sweater, she always gets cold in these hospitals.”

Orym gives him a hug. “You got it. Oh, I’ve still got her keys.” He tosses them at Derrig and heads over to Willow, helping her clean up her toys. 

“Everyone text me what they want for dinner, yeah? I’ll do what I can.” He smiles and braces for the barrage of hugs from everyone as they say goodbye.

“Alrighty pumpkin, let’s go!”

“Let’s go!”

____________________

Fy’ra can barely contain her excitement as they climb into her car and Dorian begins to direct her out to his new home. Turns out, she knows the way - she used to be acquaintances with the couple that had lived there before they moved to warmer pastures. Dorian walks her through each room, explaining his vision for each room, Fy’ra offering suggestions as they go. They spend the morning walking through his new home, plotting out furniture and new flooring, decor and lighting fixtures. Fy’ra was in her element and Dorian couldn’t stop smiling. He walks back to the room he plans on turning into a studio and just sits on the floor, taking it in. He can’t believe he got so lucky. 

His phone buzzes and he pulls it out. It’s Cyrus.

bro that place looks awesome! i’ve booked a flight
to come out for your pageant, i don’t think dad has
seen it so i’ll try and keep it as secret as possible

Dorian smiles and goes to respond but before he can another text comes through.

maybe i can even meet this guy your always talking
about. and the kid. hell maybe i’ll get lucky and
find someone to snuggle by the fire up there on the
mountain ;)

*your

dammit

*you’re

Dorian blushes but laughs.

That would be a lot of fun Cy. I really want you
to meet him and Willow. I think he’d like to
meet you too. Thanks for coming out.

Dorian gets up and meets Fy’ra back in the empty living room area where she’s digging through her purse.

“I seem to have left my phone at home, we’d best get back,” she says, giving up with a huff. “I need to be on call for updates on that baby.”

They arrive back at the B&B, and Ember is barking up a storm outside. 

“Hey girl, what’s the matter?” Dorian leans down to pet her head as Fy’ra walks inside.

“Sir, I need you to LEAVE!”

____________________

Orym is thankful that Willow fell asleep on the ride back to Zephrah and stayed asleep in the transfer to her bed at his ma’s place. He stops by Nell and Derrig’s house and grabs a sweater out of the hall closet, does a sweep of the kitchen to make sure she didn’t have a crockpot plugged in for dinner and locks up behind himself. He hasn’t gotten a dinner order yet so he heads over to the tree stand to check on Dariax. The man in question is sitting in his chair, looking at his phone puzzled. Orym hops out of his truck, and heads over.

“Everything alright?” He calls out.

Dariax looks up. “What? Oh, yeah the trees are good. Probably will need that next load you two cut yesterday in a couple days.” He looks back down at his phone.

Orym steps up beside him. “Hey man, you alright?”

Dariax looks around. “You seen Dorian today?”

Orym tilts his head, confused. “I saw him this morning, he had an appointment he had to get to.”

Dariax’s face falls. “Oh. I guess that makes sense then.”

Orym cranes his head to look at Dariax’s phone. “What are you talking about?”

Dariax shows him the post and his heart sinks like a rock while a bone chilling numbness slips over him. ‘Wyvernwind Brother’s Winter’s Crest Concert - One Night Only’ The date was tomorrow night.

“I don’t know, boss. I kinda thought he’d be sticking around a little longer. What with the pageant and how cozy you two have been recently.” 

Orym shoves the phone back at Dariax and turns around.

“Maybe there’s an explanation?” Dariax calls out.

Orym keeps walking.

____________________

Dorian hears Fy’ra’s shouting from inside and sprints in, freezing when the looming figure of his father suddenly fills his entire field of vision. 

“Dad?”

Rheston turns from where he’d been attempting to intimidate Fy’ra with a look of enraged triumph on his face. 

“Dorian.” 

The calm tone doesn’t match the fury on his father’s face and Dorian feels a chill run up his spine that has nothing to do with the door he’d left open in his hurry to get inside.

“What are you doing here?” Dorian asks, inching forward to get between his father and Fy’ra.

Rheston sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The real question, Dorian, is what are you doing here ? You have a nervous breakdown in a business meeting, spout nonsense, and disappear off the face of the planet. You didn’t honestly think we weren’t going to be searching for you, did you? Come on son. I knew you weren’t the smartest, but I didn’t think you were that stupid.”

Dorian frowns. “I did not have a nervous breakdown, what are you talking about?”

Rheston waves him off. “How else am I supposed to explain your nonsensical bullshit about making your own music and doing a different sound and going solo? Your contract says you have more obligations to fulfill or I can sue you for not fulfilling and I can sue this town for hiring you out of proper channels. But because I’m your father, I’ll be lenient.”

Dorian shakes his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I have fulfilled every inch of my contract and more. You can’t touch me and you can’t touch this town.”

Rheston’s fury turns him purple as he stamps towards Dorian. “Do you really think these mountain hicks actually like you? Are you really kidding yourself into thinking they give a damn about you beyond what you can do for them?”

Dorian’s voice raises. “Yes! I do! They cared about me before they knew who I was! It didn’t matter to them!”

____________________

Orym hears raised voices coming from inside the B&B where he’d gone in hopes that Dorian might still be there to get an explanation - either from him or Fy’ra. The front door is wide open and Ember is sulking outside. He pauses in the hallway as the yelling continues just out of sight.

A voice he doesn’t recognize says, “This hick town has nothing to offer someone like you, Dorian and you know it. Deep down you know it. You’re kidding yourself into a daydream of a life here and I’m here to wake you up and take you home.”

The words so closely resemble Orym’s deepest fears, he’s almost not sure if he heard them out loud or just another echo in his mind until a voice he recognizes talks back.

Dorian’s voice, louder and crueler than Orym’s ever heard it responds, “Oh yes, this hick town has nothing for me. Thank the gods you came to rescue me. Yeah, you’re so right, I don’t belong here among the mountain hicks - ”

Orym stumbles out of the house, not wanting  to hear anymore, heart shattering into pieces. He gets back into his truck and drives away, tears blurring his vision. To hear Dorian agree, confirming that he doesn’t belong, that he’ll never stay, something will always be pulling him away - even though he’d been braced for it for so long, to hear it said out loud stabbed sharper than he expected. He just keeps driving.

____________________

Dorian continues, "But these so-called mountain hicks, Dad? They decided that I do belong here with them. That I was worth spending time with." Dorian shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my home now. I will be making my own music from now on. My way. I have friends here, a family. I don’t need you anymore. I’m not sure that I ever did, I’m just strong enough now to realize it."

Rheston grabs Dorian's shirtfront and attempts to drag him forward but Dorian doesn't move. 

"I will ruin this town. I will ruin you. You owe me one more performance."

There's a long, tense silence. Dorian doesn't break eye contact with his father until the other man backs off and lets go.

Quietly, Dorian responds, "Let's get two things clear. One, you don't touch this town. You don't set foot in this town again. I come with you now and you forget you ever heard of this place. Two. I don't owe you shit. I'm coming with you now so Miss Fy'ra can have a peaceful night and not feel obligated to open her home to you out of hospitality and you and I go home and get this straightened out. Right now."

Rheston smiles. "I'm glad you're seeing reason-"

"Apologize for ruining her evening." Dorian's voice is cold. 

Rheston takes a step back. 

“Apologize,” Dorian growls. “Now.” 

Rheston’s eyes dart over to Fy’ra. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“Wait outside.”

Dorian storms up the stairs, tosses some essentials in a backpack and comes back down.

“Dorian?” Fy’ra voice is kind and full of concern.

Dorian closes his eyes against the onslaught of tears threatening to fall as Fy’ra wraps him in a hug.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he’d come looking for me like this. I’m coming right back, I swear. I just need to go get this figured out and make sure no one here suffers from my family drama.” Dorian whispers into the hug. 

“It’s going to be alright, you just be strong, be brave, we’ll be here waiting for you when you come back,” Fy’ra says, kissing his forehead. 

Dorian nods to the key she’s still holding. “Keep that. Do whatever you’d like to the place. If my brother shows up, please take care of him.”

He starts to walk out the door but turns. “Tell Orym - tell him -”

“I’m sure he knows, dear.”

Dorian nods and closes the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Orym manages to make it to the park and stumbles to Will's bench, collapsing in on himself and letting the tears flow. He can’t believe he’d been so stupid. Someone so brilliant and radiant and destined for bigger things and better places like Dorian settling for a quiet life on a mountaintop with a nobody like him? He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, feeling the burn of the acid dripping from Dorian’s voice lance a scar across his soul as his mind recalls the words he’d overheard before his heart had shattered so forcefully his ears were still ringing.

“This hick town has nothing for me.”

“I don’t belong here among the mountain hicks.”

“Thank the gods you came to rescue me.”

His mind plays it over and over before Willow’s sweet face swims into his mind and he gasps a sob. What was he going to tell her? She’d loved faster than he had, trusted simpler than he ever could, with the innocent faith in people only a child could muster. 

And he couldn’t protect her from this heartbreak. Again. She’d been too young to know Will, but felt his absence all the same. Her precious little heart had chosen Dorian and Orym, like a fool, had allowed it to happen knowing the risks.

A cool fury begins to drip in, filling the space where the cracks had formed, icing over. He had to pull it together. His family was going to need him - needs him now, there’s a baby on the way and they need food while they wait. His blind faith and hope being dashed right before the holidays shouldn’t punish everyone else. 

He stands and scoops some of the fresh snow and presses it to his face, letting the cold bite focus his mind. He dries his face and pulls out his phone and opens up the notes app where he keeps track of everyone’s favorite foods and begins walking to the diner to get dinner for the waiting family back at the hospital.

____________________

Dariax had watched Orym storm off down the street with concern and debated following him. He was supposed to be manning the tree stand. He paces and debates for a few more minutes before muttering under his breath and gathering up the money box. Dariax practically runs to Fy’ra’s place and walking inside he overhears Fy’ra on the phone with someone say, “Oh, I need to call Orym, let him know.”

Dariax’s eyes widen and he bursts out. “Uhhh, Orym hasn’t already come by?”

Fy’ra startles and turns around. “Dariax! Land sakes, do you knock? No, why would Orym be here?”

Dariax buries his hands in his hair and begins pacing. “Uh oh.”

Fy’ra stands. “Millie, I’m gonna have to call you back.” She hangs up the phone and advances on Dariax. “What is ‘uh oh’, young man?” 

Dariax paces miserably. “I - he - was coming here to ask Dorian about the Winter’s Crest concert post I showed him?”

Fy’ra spins away with a huff, Ember following behind her closely. “Oh Orym. If he did come here, there’s so many things he might have overheard and thought Dorian hated us or him or - ”

“Wait, what about Dorian?” A new voice comes from the hallway.

Fy’ra and Dariax swivel to see a man, remarkably similar in appearance to Dorian, just taller and broader, standing in the entryway looking confused. Ember woofs curiously from behind Fy'ra.

Dariax makes a weird sound and sinks into the couch out of view. Ember scrambles around Fy’ra and starts sniffing at the stranger. 

Fy’ra marches towards him. “Excuse me, sir but we are having a family emergency. Of sorts. I can’t help you right now.”

The man scratches his head, looking more confused. “Well, uh, Dorian is my family so I guess I’m also having an emergency too. How do I help?”

Fy’ra gapes at the man filling the doorway before collecting herself and shooting a look down at the hyperventilating Dariax on the couch, clutching his phone. 

“Cyrus?” She questions.

Cyrus grins a little sheepishly. “Yeah that’s me. You must be Miss Fy’ra. Dorian talked about all of you. A lot. He sent me an address but I wasn’t really sure how to get there? I figured you’d know how to help me.”

Fy’ra sighs. “Oh dear.” She bustles past him and locks her front door and shoos him further inside, taking his duffle from him, ushering him into a chair. He looks more confused by the second and Dariax squeaks and sits up, hair askew when Cyrus looks in his direction. 

Fy’ra sits down. “Cyrus, I’m going to come right out and say it. Dorian isn’t here. You just missed him. Your father somehow figured out that he’d been staying here and came in and made a mess of the whole situation, threatening ruin on the entire town if Dorian didn’t come to heel.” Cyrus’ eyes go wide as Dariax’ jaw drops. “Now. We’re dealing with a lot right now, as you can imagine. We have a baby on the way, Dorian back in the clutches of your father, one of us isn’t answering his phone and then you showed up right in the middle of all of it.”

Cyrus raises his hands in surrender. “I’m just here to visit Dorian, I swear. He’s talked about this place so much I wanted to come see for myself and I wanted to see the pageant he worked so hard on and I wanted to meet this guy he was falling for.”

Fy’ra looks hard at him. “And what about the Winter’s Crest concert?”

Cyrus looks confused. “The pageant? I’m just here to support my brother in his assistant directing debut.”

Fy’ra snaps her fingers at Dariax. Dariax pulls up the announcement and hands his phone to Cyrus in wide-eyed wonder. Cyrus looks down at the phone and immediately shoots up to pace the living room.

“I don’t have any clue what this is.” He whirls around and looks at Fy’ra. “I haven’t even seen Dad in two days, it’s why I thought it was safe to leave. I didn’t know he’d scheduled anything, no one told me.” He zooms in on the date. “Tomorrow?! How am I supposed to be performing in a concert I don’t know about tomorrow?”

Fy’ra stands and gently takes the phone from him, the accusatory glare softening as she hands it back to Dariax, placing a gentle hand on Cyrus’ arm. “I imagine your father assumed you would be home as always and all he needed to do was retrieve one wayward son to get you both back in line.”

Cyrus looks down at her, “But I’m here.” Panic crosses his face. “And Dorian is going to be alone there, I gotta go.”

Fy’ra tightens her hands. “Calm down, sugar. We need to make a plan. And to do that, we need more people.” She looks over at Dariax. “Try Orym one more time.”

Dariax dials and shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Fy’ra stomps her foot. “Alright, get in the car. And call Millie!” 

Cyrus looks around confused again as the two of them rush around getting coats. “How is this gonna help me help Dorian?”

Fy’ra looks over at him, a fierce love alighting in her eyes. “Because Dorian is one of ours now and that means the full force of Zephrah has your back.”

Dariax hands the phone over. “It’s Millie, Willow is within earshot.”

Fy’ra nods. “Millie, love, we’re on our way to you, we have a bit of a situation. Yes it’s all hands on deck. No, I haven’t heard from him. They haven’t heard from him either? Well consider that part of the situation. No, we haven’t had dinner that sounds lovely. Yes, we’re gonna need it, you should see the boy that just walked in. Alright, bye bye now.”

She shoos the two men out of the front door and into her vehicle. “Let’s go. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

Dariax hops in the car and starts texting Opal updates on the situation as Cyrus follows along in utter confusion.

____________________

Orym walks in, finding his way back to the room where his family is waiting for both the baby to arrive and him to bring dinner. He takes all of five steps into the room and is nearly tackled by three women. Flailing a bit and trying to make sure he doesn’t spill dinner he stumbles and squawks an indignant protest but their hugs only tighten and he stills in concern.

“Is everything alright? Is it Maeve? The baby?”

They all three pull back in unison and stare at him in different shades of incredulity. 

“You’re joking right?” Lita manages to spit out in a frustrated whisper. “You stop answering your phone and texts and you have the nerve to be confused about us being glad you’re okay?”

Orym winces again and looks down, scuffing his boot on the linoleum. “I-”

Barony pokes him in the chest. “You’re lucky we didn’t tell Dad.”

Opal searches his face, brushing a gentle finger under the still puffy and red rimmed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Tears swim in Orym’s eyes and he shakes his head, pushing past them and clearing his throat. He begins pulling food out from the bags. 

“I brought dinner,” His voice is strained and he sniffs. “Got extra rolls.” 

The three of them look at each other and come over, taking the food from Orym. 

“We know what happened.” Opal says softly. "Dariax texted."

“Honey, it’s not what you think,” Lita begins but is cut off by Orym’s derisive snort.

“You didn’t hear him.” Orym mumbles into the to-go bag.

“You didn’t hear the whole conversation,” Lita continues, putting a hand on his.

“His father found him, Orym, threatened him, threatened all of us,” Barony adds. “He left to protect us.”

Orym’s head shoots up and he narrows his eyes. 

“He left ?!” He spits out.

All three go still. “Oh, uh, you didn’t know that?” Barony shifts, looking over at Lita. “I thought-”

Orym laughs harshly. “No. No. No, I didn't know he’d left. But that’s just great. That’s the perfect ending to all of this. No, what I heard him say was ‘This hick town has nothing for me’ loud and clear and that’s when I left before I found out exactly what he thought of me or my daughter. The man is so good with words, I’ll have that sentence mocking me in my dreams for the rest of my life. I really don’t want to know his true feelings about us, I honestly don’t think I could handle it.”

The three women look at him wide-eyed.

Orym laughs harshly. “You said he’s gone? Yeah, that’s probably for the best. I can’t believe I fell for any of it.” He rubs his hands over his face. “Anyways. Here’s dinner, I’m gonna go take a walk and get rid of my bad mood. This isn’t what the day is about.”

He takes a deep breath, smiles a poor imitation of his usual smile and walks out.

Stunned silence descends on the room. Opal slowly reaches for a dinner roll and her phone. Shoving the bread in her mouth, she quickly texts Dariax. 

so orym is pissed/sad/upset

didn’t know dorian was gone

he heard something about a hick town
having nothing for dorian and left then

said he didn’t want to know dorians tru
feeling 4 him and his daughter after
finding out his tru feelings 4 the town

uh oh he definitely heard the wrong
thing :(

They arrive at Millie’s bookshop and are ushered into the private quarters. Dariax and Cyrus sit awkwardly on the couch. Willow runs into the room and freezes when she sees Cyrus. He looks back at her curiously and waves slightly. She pads to where he’s sitting. 

“Dorian?” She sounds unsure.

Cyrus smiles and shakes his head. “No, I’m his brother. Cyrus. You must be Willow.”

Willow’s eyes go wide and she looks over to Dariax who gives her a big thumbs up. Her eyes swing back to Cyrus uncertainly. Willow stares at him a little longer before climbing up onto the couch and into Dariax’s lap, clutching her blanket close and continuing to stare at him from the safety of her uncle’s embrace. Cyrus looks over at Dariax, wide-eyed. 

Dariax gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up. 

Soft voices waft in from the kitchen as Millie and Fy’ra talk. 

Eventually, Cyrus leans over to Dariax and whispers, “Now who is Millie and why are we here?”

Dariax whispers back, “Orym’s mom. Orym's gotta come back here eventually.”

Cyrus nods and watches Dariax finger comb Willow’s hair as she begins to drift off into sleep against his chest. “Wait, who's Orym?”

____________________

Orym looks down at the tiny bundle of blankets and sleeping newborn in his arms, gently swaying side to side as Nell and Derrig talk softly to Maeve. The little girl in his arms squirms and squeaks and he shifts, humming softly at her as his eyes trace over the rounded cheeks, the button nose, the wrinkled forehead that creases and smoothes as she sleeps, the eyebrows that furrow and relax, memorizing them all, feeling the fading embers of his heart flare to life again. 

“Hey there, sugarplum,” he whispers, fascinated by how she stills her squirms at his voice. He continues softly, pacing a bit. “Welcome to the world. We’ve been real excited to meet ya.  I think you’re gonna like it here, your mamas are some of the best people I know and the rest of your family is fierce and full of love. You’re gonna do alright, kiddo.”

He looks up and sees Nell watching him and smiles a small smile at her. “I’m gonna give you back to your grandma now.”

He carefully hands her over to Nell and begins to turn away, stopping when she softly calls his name. 

“Orym? What’s wrong, son?”

Orym’s smile slips a bit and he squeezes Nell’s shoulder and shakes his head, knowing he needs to get out of here while his in-laws are distracted. He heads over to Maeve and leans down.

“Hey there,” he smiles.

She reaches for his hand and smiles up at him. “Hi Orym, I’m so glad you’re here.”

Orym squeezes her hand. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Congrats.”

Maeve lets her head fall back against the pillows. “Thanks bro,” she yawns. “I think I’m gonna go to sleep now.”

Orym leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You’ve had a busy day. Sleep sweet, sister. I'll come see you tomorrow alright?” 

Her eyes begin to droop as he steps away. Orym waves goodbye to Derrig before his eagle-eyed father in law also gets a chance to corner him and ask what his deal is and slips out of the room. 

____________________

Millie reaches for Cyrus’ bowl and ladles soup into it. “Now Cyrus, you came out here to see our pageant, right?”

He takes the bowl back from her with a smiled thanks. “Yes, ma’am I did. Dorian’s been telling me all about it and I really wanted to come see it. And the town.”

She finishes serving everyone's soup and sits, passing the bowl of bread around. “Well we’ve got to figure out a way to get Dorian back here.” She tears up some of the bread and puts it in front of Willow, who is still staring at Cyrus with unconcealed interest. “He belongs here with us.”

“Well clearly,” Cyrus nods. “He sounded happier than he’s ever been when he talked about this place.” He looks around. “And all of you. The Orym guy especially. I mean, I never got a name but I could tell.”

Millie smiles. “They were getting to something special, I knew it. Everyone knew it. We need to fix this before that fragile start is broken.”

Fy’ra leans over. “Your father was talking, something about a breach of contract?”

Cyrus frowns. “No, that can’t be possible. We specifically planned Dorian’s escape around when we would need to resign and renegotiate. He’s free and clear.” He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully. “We both are. Legal stuff was waiting until the new year.”

Dariax narrows his eyes and points with his spoon. “Are you…also doing something different?”

Cyrus grins. “Who do you think is going to be producing Dorian’s new album? I’ve been doing it for us and some others for years under a pseudonym. Time to step out of the shadows I guess.”

Dariax sits back. “Wow. That’s amazing, man!”

Cyrus ducks his head. “Dorian’s the brave one, I’m just here. I just don’t understand what Dad is on about. Or why Dorian went with him?”

The front door jiggles and opens and a tired looking Orym walks in, freezes at the sight of everyone before waving. Willow slips out of the chair and runs over into his knees hugging him hard. He lifts her up and holds her close, closing his eyes.

“Hey, looks like someone missed me.” He says softly. She nods against his shoulder. “Did you finish your dinner?” She shakes her head. “Alright, c’mon let’s finish that okay?”

He walks over and sits down, letting her sit on his lap, brushing her curls back and dropping a kiss on her head. He looks around at everyone else, eyes stopping and narrowing at Cyrus before landing on his mom.

“Hey Ma, thanks for watching her.”

She reaches over and squeezes his hand. “Honey, you look exhausted.”

He gives a half smile, eyes darting to Cyrus again. “Long day.” He takes a deep breath. “Anyways, we have another baby girl in the family.” He pauses as gasps, cheers, and claps erupt around the table and smiles. “And Maeve is doing fine. She was falling asleep as I left.”

More celebration fills the room. Orym stares at Cyrus again while helping to scoop the last of Willow’s food onto her spoon so she could shovel it to her mouth before turning questioning eyes to his mother. 

"Sweetheart there's some things you need to know…" she begins. 

Orym stands up, shaking his head. "Well, time for this munchkin to get to bed."

Millie and Fy’ra exchange a look. 

"She's all set up in the usual room, dear," Millie sighs. 

Orym disappears down the hall, stepping into the room his mom had set up for Willow to stay in and letting Willow dig through her little suitcase to pick out which jammies she wanted to wear that night. As he goes through the usual nighttime routine, he lets his mind return back to the group at the table. He knows he’s being stubborn and not responsive to anyone’s attempts to help him with the situation at hand. He just doesn’t understand why everyone is so incredibly calm about the events of the day. He sighs as he scoops Willow up and tucks her into bed. Maybe everyone else had prepared themselves better than he had and were ready for Dorian’s departure. Willow wiggles her way under the blankets, humming one of the songs Dorian had taught his little choir of kids for the Winter’s Crest pageant. 

Doubt begins to creep into his mind, as he suddenly remembers that Dorian was supposed to be there to direct that show. And Orym is pretty sure that the stranger at his mom’s table is the Cyrus he’s heard so much about. If Dorian is supposed to be running back to a life of glitz and glam - far away from the mountain hicks he was so offended by - to do a show with his brother, why was the brother here on the mountain? 

“Where Dorian?” A sleepy Willow asks, pulling Orym from his tumultuous thoughts.

He kisses her forehead and boops her nose with his finger, making her giggle. “He’s busy tonight, pumpkin.”

“Miss him.”

In the silence that follows her drooping into sleep, he whispers, “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

Orym slips out into the hallway and wipes the tears that had formed yet again and reluctantly marches down the hallway. He’s greeted by the sight of everyone waiting for him in the living room and sighs again, goes to lean against the wall and crosses his arms. 

“What?”

Everyone looks at each other as though unsure of where to start.

Fy’ra leans forward. “Orym, dear, I know you think you heard something today, but you have to believe me when I say: you didn’t have the whole picture.”

Orym rolls his eyes and begins to shake his head and walk back to a guest room.

“Orym Ashari-Blade you sit yourself down and listen to Fy’ra before you ruin the good thing in front of you!” Millie says in a low tone that brooks no argument and has Orym freezing and both Dariax and Cyrus sitting up straighter.

Orym sighs again and slouches into an empty chair. “I think I heard enough, Fy’ra, I really didn’t want to hear what other things he could say that would utterly destroy me. I - ” He drops his head into his hands. “I took a chance and now not only is my heart going to break but I have to deal with the consequences of my little girl’s heart breaking.” He looks up, letting the tears show in front of others for the first time all day, letting the heartbreak shake his voice as he continues, “You know what she just asked me as she was falling asleep? ‘Where’s Dorian?’ I did that. I let that happen. And now he’s gone, he’s been rescued from the mountain hicks and she’s not going to understand why her precious Dorian isn’t around anymore. And I don’t have a good answer. So unless you have something that will help me make sure that my daughter isn’t going to fall into a thousand pieces when she finds out Dorian hates it here, I don’t want to hear it.”

In the stunned silence that follows, Fy’ra reaches out a hand to Orym. “He’s coming right back, Orym.”

Orym’s head whips over to her. “What?”

She squeezes his hand. “He barely took clothes with him, he left his guitar and everything. I was there the entire time, sweetheart, we were ambushed by his father when we got home from some errands and a nasty argument sprang up and before I knew what was happening, his father was threatening all of us if Dorian didn’t come back for the concert and Dorian decided to go back to protect us all. To clear up whatever confusion might cause legal problems here for all of us. He said he’d be back as soon as he could.”

Orym sits back, stunned.

Cyrus raises his hand hesitantly. “Uh, hi there, I’m Cyrus. Dorian’s older brother. To be clear on a few points here: One: I had no idea about the concert until I got here and Miss Fy’ra showed it to me, so two: I have no idea what Dad is talking about with regards to legal issues, in addition to three: neither of us are under any contracts right now so Dad is really off his rocker about that.” He nods and puts his hand down quickly, like he forgot it was up. “Oh and four: I really wanted to meet you and this is not the way I wanted that to happen and I’m really sorry.”

Orym blinks. “Uh, nice to meet you too?” He stands and paces. “So Dorian didn’t actually want to leave?”

Fy’ra shakes her head. “Orym, that’s what everyone has been trying to tell you all day.”

Orym looks around. “But - ” He shakes his head and paces again. “Why would he want to stay here? He’s gonna leave eventually.”

“He bought a house here, Orym!” Fy’ra bursts out and covers her mouth.

“ What?! ” 

The entire room looks at Fy’ra in shock. 

Cyrus looks around in confusion. “Was that a secret? Oops, glad I didn’t tell anyone.”

Fy’ra shrugs. “That’s where we were before coming home and having the…altercation with Mr. Wyvernwind. But you didn’t hear this from me, you have to act surprised when Dorian tells you!”

Orym sits down hard in his chair. “He bought a house.” He sits and processes that for a second. “He wants to stay.” He looks up at his mom. “He chose us.”

He watches tears fill her eyes as she nods.

He pops back up again, unable to sit still. “He - I - ” Shoving his hand in his hair, he spins back around to look at them all. “I gotta go to him!”

Dariax looks around confused. “Wait what? He’s coming back, right?”

Orym shakes his head, “No, no I gotta go now. He needs backup. And I have to tell him.” He pins Cyrus with a stare. “Can you get me there?”

Cyrus nods, clapping his hands together. “Yeah, man. Of course. I just gotta, um. Yeah, lemme make some calls.” He walks into the kitchen, phone already out.

Orym turns to his mom, who has a huge smile and eyes still sparkling with tears. “Can you watch Willow for me, please? I have to go bring him home.”

She nearly tackles him in a hug. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Cyrus walks out of the kitchen, holding the phone to his chest. “I’ve got two tickets for us in the morning, that work for you?”

Orym nods. 

Whatever it took, Dorian was coming home.

Chapter Text

Dorian steps out of his agent’s office, feeling significantly better than he had when he walked in. His assumptions were correct, his dad was completely out of control and had absolutely zero legal course of action or anything to hold over him. Unfortunately, tickets for the show tonight were already sold out. Slipping into the back of his private car, Dorian leans against the back against the luxurious headrest, closing his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to get on the first flight out of here, but all of those people - his fans - had paid good money, hard earned money for the chance to come see him. It didn’t sit right with him to just leave to spite his father and everyone else get caught in the crossfire of his family drama. Again.

“Where to, sir?” The driver asks after a moment and Dorian realizes they haven’t moved.

He shakes his head, flushing a bit as he leans forward. “Sorry, Dennis. Could we go to the amphitheater? I’d like to start rehearsing.”

“Very good, sir.” 

“Thank you,” Dorian murmurs, flopping back against the seat. He sighs and looks out the window, rolling his shoulders, attempting to release the pent up tension in his neck. How was it that yesterday morning he’d woken up in Orym’s bed, warm and happy and content with life, and now he’s here, cold and alone? His phone was silent as well. There hadn’t been a single phone call or text from anyone. He lets it fall back into his lap. Nothing to be done about it. He had work to do so he could get home.

____________________

Orym fidgets in his seat at the airport’s gate, awaiting their boarding call. Cyrus sits next to him, hat down and phone blocking his face. 

Orym leans over and whispers, “When you said morning, I was honestly expecting something much earlier than this. We’re barely going to get there before the concert.” 

Cyrus side-eyes him. “Morning is before noon, dude. We had to wake up so early to get here in time.”

Orym blinks. The man had barely dragged himself to the car, skipped breakfast and slept the entire drive here. He smiles and shakes his head. “Neither of you are morning people then, huh?”

A group of teens walks by their gate and Cyrus flinches, ducking further behind his phone. Orym stands and pretends to stretch, blocking Cyrus from view of the rest of the passersby. Cyrus smiles gratefully up at him. “Why would we be? Our whole life took place at night. Rarely did we have anything happening in the morning. Late nights though? Plenty of those.”

Orym looks down at him, considering. “Dorian told me…” He trails off and looks out the large window. “I’m glad he has you as a brother.” His eyes dart down and meet Cyrus’ surprised face. “I’m glad to get to meet you.”

“Now Boarding Group A Tal-Dorei Airlines Flight 421.”

Cyrus blinks and shakes his head, squinting at his ticket. “That’s us.”

Orym’s brow furrows. “Wait, we’re not in first class though?”

“Dude, seriously.”

____________________

Dorian thanks Dennis again and walks into the venue he's supposed to be doing a Wyvernwind Brothers show in, he checks his phone and winces, eight hours. He wanders backstage until he finds his way to the main stage and lets himself wander to center. His eyes trail up and over the seats where people will be sitting in a matter of hours. The tension that had been lingering in his shoulders finally releases as he takes a deep breath in, standing onstage - the only place that had felt like home. Until this last month. He whips out his phone and begins furiously typing lyrics into his notes app when a clunk comes from behind him backstage. He turns to investigate and sees his production manager hopping around on one foot.

“Kali? You good?” Dorian walks back towards her as the tall black woman stoops down to pick up the dropped binder next to her.

“Dorian! Hey! Wasn’t expecting you this early. Yeah I’m fine, just dropped my stuff on my toe. What’s up man? Where have you been?” Kali stands up, tossing her dreads back over her shoulder and pulls Dorian into a hug. 

Dorian hugs her back, smiling as he pulls away. “Well I sorta took a bit of a vacation after. Well after.”

Kali pins him with a look. “Yeah thanks for the heads up on that one. Appreciate it.”

Dorian winces. “Sorry, it’s just. Dad. You know.”

Kali shakes her head and punches his arm gently. “Nah man, I get it.” She looks around. “But also I don’t. What is happening tonight? One minute I’m spending Winter’s Crest vacation brushing up my resume just in case I don’t have a job after the band breaks up and the next I got Father Wyvernwind screaming on my phone to get back in town for a concert. What gives?”

Dorian slings an arm around Kali’s shoulders and guides her backstage. “First of all, I trust no one else to run my shows except you, so if you’ll stick around, I’m bringing you with me.” 

She pokes him in the side where he’s ticklish and he spins away laughing. “You’re on, my man.”

He levels a more serious look her way. “Second of all, my dad is up to no good. Long story short I was threatened back here. I have no idea where Cyrus is. I’m avoiding my dad. I just wanna go back to Zeph-to the place I’ve been staying for the past couple months, but I don’t want everyone to lose their money on concert tickets that never should have happened in the first place.”

Kali whistles under her breath. “Yikes, dude.”

Dorian plops down on a chair in the greenroom. “And I figure bailing on a concert before I launch my solo career is probably not the best PR move.”

Kali perches on the armrest next to him and pulls out a notepad and clicks her pen. “So what are we gonna do.”

____________________

Orym tries to not gawk out the window as the incredibly fancy private car that picked them up at the airport drives them through the city, but he can’t help it. He truly feels like every stereotype of a country bumpkin arriving in the big city as the lights flash by his window. He tries to picture his Dorian in this world, walking down that street, sitting at that café, and he’s grasping at a nebulous image until he remembers the man that walked into his warehouse to help with a tree hunt and his eyes dart over to Cyrus in the backseat with him. Okay so maybe they do fit here and he can feel that ugly fear gnaw up his chest again and he shoves it down, leg jumping as they slow outside the venue and begin to wind around the back. 

Cyrus looks up. “Perfect. I’ve got a VIP badge waiting for you.” Orym nods nervously. Cyrus touches his wrist. “Orym, Dorian doesn’t know we're here.”

Orym takes a shaky deep breath in and lets it out. “That’s okay. I - ” He shakes his head. “Thank you Cyrus.”

They exit the car and slip in a door, the guards outside giving a glance at Orym that is waved off by Cyrus. A stocky man in a sweater vest, bow tie, and mustache is waiting for them inside with badges. 

“Thank you, Zun.” Cyrus drops one around Orym’s neck and the other around his own. “What’s the story here?”

The man rolls his eyes and turns to Orym and holds out his hand. “Hello there, I’m Zunado. I’ve had the misfortune of wrangling these two boys since they first came on the scene. I’m their agent, you must be Orym.”

Orym smiles and shakes his hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.” He smooths his flannel shirt and runs a hand through his hair. “Um, is Dorian here?” He shakes his head. “Of course he is, that’s dumb. Um, can I talk to him?” 

Zunado opens his mouth to respond just as a roar erupts from the crowd outside and music begins to play. He smiles. “Perhaps after the show? Can I show you to your seats?” 

Orym startles and looks to Cyrus who seems equally confused and shrugs. They follow Zunado to a blocked off section in the front of the audience as the instrumental music continues with the light show adding excitement and building hype with the audience screaming and cheering around them. 

Orym looks around at all the fans with wide eyes. He leans over to Cyrus. “I’ve never been to a concert before, is this normal?” 

Cyrus nods and leans down. “I think so yeah, I kinda drowned it out so I could focus, you know? I’ve never been on this side of it before.”

Orym was about to respond when the lights suddenly cut out and the music faded to a driving kick drum. Orym’s eyes are drawn immediately to the stage as, almost imperceptibly, figures are moving in the darkness before Dorian’s voice begins to sing, clear and strong over the beat now pulsing with Orym’s heart. He can hear Cyrus singing along next to him and then in waves, the crowd picks up the melody as the lights come up and Orym catches his breath. Dorian is there, center stage, guitar strapped to his back and holding the microphone he’s singing into on its stand not unlike the way he’d held Orym just days ago, and Orym can feel his ears heating as the flush races across his face.

A quick smile flashes across Dorian’s face as the crowd starts singing and he steps back away from the microphone, swinging the guitar around and beginning to play as the lights come up on the rest of the band. Orym is entranced as the high energy song continues and Dorian’s voice wraps around him, louder than he’s ever heard it before. He can’t help but soak in the image of Dorian jumping around, the well-fitted denim jeans, black t-shirt tucked haphazardly into the jeans and an unbuttoned flannel whirling around him as he moved, sleeves rolled up to reveal the shifting muscles of his forearms as he plays. The camera lingers helpfully on Dorian’s hands and arms and Orym feels a flash of familiarity and squints at the image on the big screens before shaking his head in disbelief, seeing the single button on the flannel that was a different color than the others. 

No wonder he couldn’t find that particular flannel this morning when he was packing. 

Cyrus jostles him slightly. “So what do you think?”

Orym startles out of his trance and looks over. “I - it’s, um, he’s really good!”

Cyrus smiles as the music begins to fade. “Yeah, I know.”

Dorian returns to center stage and lets the guitar hang from its strap as he grabs the microphone again and smiles. “Good evening Emon!”

The crowd screams around Orym but all he is focused on is Dorian’s hands as he twists his hair up, securing it in a bun. 

“Glad to be with you tonight.” Dorian looks out over the audience, realizing he means it. “You know, I’ve said that so many times at a show like this, it’s basically part of the script, right? You’re all smart, you know the formula. Come out, sing a song or two, and then you thank,” Dorian lets his voice go flat and robotic, “insert city here.” 

Dorian laughs with the crowd. “And then you do some more songs and then I give you a pep talk right? That’s how this goes?” He pauses for a moment. “Well I asked if I could switch up the formula today. Pep talk comes first.” 

He swings the guitar to his back and takes the microphone off the stand so he can move. “Because the pep talk comes with an apology and an explanation and a question. And if we’re still cool after that? Well I thought maybe we could get back to the party.” 

The roar from the crowd bouncing off of the natural rocks of the amphitheater is almost deafening and Dorian fake stumbles back at the force of it. He takes the guitar off and passes it to one of the band members who fades into the darkness as Dorian jogs to the other end of the stage. “So first up, the explanation. You came here for a Wyvernwind Brothers concert, right? And, well,” he looks around dramatically. “There’s only one of us here. And we’d announced a couple months ago that I was going solo. These are all true statements. The truth is that while some of the members of our team are less than supportive of that direction, Cyrus has never been anything but onboard 110%.” 

Dorian shrugs. “Full disclosure: I do not know where Cyrus is right now. So, no. Cyrus won’t be joining me up here tonight and this leads me to my apology.” 

He crosses his arms and whispers into the microphone dramatically. “I really didn’t want to be here originally.” 

He winces and spins around walking back to center stage gesticulating wildly as his volume returns to normal. “I had plans tonight. Really amazing, sweet, romantic plans - I’m not even kidding I found out about this concert after you all did. But!” Dorian sweeps his arm out, motioning to the crowd who has gone absolutely berserk at the mention of him having romantic plans. “I couldn’t leave you all hanging either! I wanted us to have a magical night. After all, it’s almost Winter’s Crest. And though I may have spent the last couple months learning about love and family,” He puts the microphone back in its stand. “And what it means to hold both so precious and fragile in your hands.” 

He looks down at his outstretched hands and then back out to the crowd with a smile. “You all are also my family. So I’m gonna hang out with you all tonight, and then I’ll go running back to flannel hugs and pancake breakfasts when we’re done here.” 

As the crowd around them collectively has a meltdown, Cyrus slowly turns to look at Orym, who is blushing furiously now and slings an arm around his shoulders. Leaning down he whispers, “Romantic plans, eh?”

Orym elbows him in the ribs. “Shut up.” But he’s smiling so wide his face hurts and Cyrus sighs happily.

Onstage, Dorian reaches back and the guitar is pressed back into his hands and he slings it back on. “All that said, onto the question.” He pulls away from the mic a second and the crowd begins to hush waiting for what he has to say next. “Y’all cool if I try out some of my new stuff on you?”

He smiles as the audience erupts and begins playing a few chords. “Awesome, I think I’m calling this one Sanctuary.”

Dorian begins to sing the song he’d written for Orym’s forest, the wild peace of the snow and pines, walking along through the rage of life in comfortable silence with someone you can see a path forward into the future with, the realization that the sanctuary was the love they’d offered. 

The audience picked up on the chorus quick enough that singing along with them, their voices reverberating around the rocks and the still night air, he motions to the other musicians to fade the instruments and sings the chorus once more with everyone a capella. Chills run up his spine and he steps back from the mic and takes a sip of water, trying to swallow the emotions down. 

He lets the audience's cheers fade out before stepping back to the microphone. “Wow, you all sounded great! That was even better than it sounded in my head.” He sets the water bottle back down and smiles. “Alright, how about something more familiar?”

Dorian launches into another song but Orym is still in shock from the last one. He remembers hearing Dorian write it in his living room and his truck. He remembers hearing a different set of lyrics that have been smoothed out and polished to fit better here. He remembers Dorian wearing Orym’s too-small clothes and playing this song with Willow on the bench next to him leaning against him in the low light of the fire. 

Orym’s breath catches and he sits down hard. 

Cyrus leans down, concerned. “You good?”

Orym nods, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Your brother just took me out with that song.”

Cyrus nods sagely and hauls him back up. “He’s been unleashed, who knows what he’ll do!”

Dorian is away from the microphone and playing next to his electric guitarist when he turns to go back to the microphone and his eyes happen to land on the front row where it looks like Cyrus is standing there clapping along with the music. Dorian’s brow furrows for a moment and he squints a bit and would have dropped his guitar if it wasn’t on a strap when he sees Orym standing next to Cyrus. He shakes out of it and returns to the mic in time to pick up the final verse and chorus, eyes darting back over to Orym the entire time, every cell of his body now aware that he is here and watching him and hearing everything he had said. He watches as Cyrus leans down to say something to Orym and Orym rolls his eyes, shoving him gently as Cyrus laughs and Dorian can’t stop a smile from breaking across his face. He finishes the song and bops back to the rest of the band. 

“He’s here!” He says breathlessly.

His drummer, Quin, squints over the shield. “Who?”

Ash, on electric guitar, peeks over Dorian’s shoulder. “Mr. Flannel is here? The one in Sanctuary and - ” 

“Yes, front row next to Cyrus.” Dorian interrupts. 

“That idiot is here and he’s just watching?” Quin grumbles, tapping out the opening beat to the next song.

Dorian laughs. “I don’t know what is going on tonight anymore but Orym is here and there’s a few things I gotta say and the only way I know how to say them is like this.”

Ash shakes their head. “You’re hopeless, Storm. Get your man, we got your back.” They begin playing as Dorian takes the guitar off, setting it on a stand and racing back to the microphone and they all put on the show of their lives. Dorian is in constant motion, consciously engaging with all areas of the audience but incredibly aware of only one man in the front row who hasn’t taken his eyes off of him from the beginning. He’s performing only for Orym now. 

The tempo and energy slows a bit as Ash switches instruments to the acoustic Dorian had been playing before. 

Dorian looks out over the audience and takes a sip of his water before saying, “You know, earlier I mentioned that over the last month I’d been learning about love and family and what that actually means. I had the privilege of being welcomed unflinchingly into the arms of one of the most amazing families I’ve ever met. And then it took me a week to figure out they weren’t actually all related to each other, they’d all just claimed each other.” He grins as the audience laughs. “No, but some of them were related. Some married in. Some had just lived in the same orbit as them for so long they might as well be family. There’s something about a home, where you know you’re safe, warm, accepted, yeah? I’m so lucky I found my Mountain Home.”

Dorian closes his eyes and begins to sing about fireplace dinners and learning about him, walks in the park and meeting at the diner on Main. Dinner at another home, laughter all around, teasing and lingering sadness and unfailing hope. He sings of finding a belonging he’d never known before and love unconditional. He dares to open his eyes and seeks out Orym in the crowd. 

Orym can feel Zephrah living and breathing in the song Dorian is singing and feels the same emotion settle in his chest from before, but before he can process it - Dorian’s eyes meet his and suddenly the world melts away and Dorian is singing just to him, walking towards him, smiling just for him. Orym is caught in his electric gaze and shakes himself out of it waving slightly at Dorian. Dorian winks at him and Orym blushes as Dorian tears himself away and walks off, singing the final words of the song.

Cyrus looks between them and grins. “I think we might be busted.”

Orym claps along with everyone and cups his hands around his mouth to hollar along with them before turning back to Cyrus. “I can’t seem to bring myself to care.”

Dorian anchors the microphone back in its stand and smiles. “Thank you all so much. We’re gonna do a couple more songs here before we say goodnight.” The crowd cheers. He slips the flannel off and ties it around his waist as he walks back to the piano sitting waiting for him. He sits down, takes a deep breath, and begins to play. 

A hush falls over the audience as the long musical intro continues and when Dorian does begin to sing, he sings of a boy of bravery who met a boy of exploration in the forest and their futures stretched in front of them like the winding paths they walked as their hearts will. One day their bravery was met with determination and their friendship turned to love, as hearts will. Bravery grew and the forest grew and bravery went to save them while the forest stayed to build them, as hearts will. Love grew and sprouted a willow and in that moment was peace. But then bravery met fire and didn’t come home and the forest and the willow were left alone. And so there they grew, the forest and the willow with the memory of bravery pushing them along, his heart’s will. And now the storm has arrived and the storm sits outside the forest hoping to be let in, awaiting their heart’s will.

Orym had barely recovered from the intense eye contact with Dorian and then he’s stripping the flannel off and Orym was feeling rather warm. All that gets forgotten as soon as Dorian begins playing the piano. Orym is once again transported back to his low-lit living room watching Dorian play with zero reservations, feeling brave enough to sit next to him, hugging him for the first time. 

When Dorian begins to sing though, Orym feels his knees give out and he’s glad for the chair behind him. Hearing his and Will’s story told with such tenderness hits him like a punch to the gut and he raises a shaking hand to his mouth, suddenly registering the tears streaming down his face. Dorian sings about the storm waiting to be let in waiting for his heart’s will and opens his eyes, making direct eye contact over the piano with Orym. Orym swipes the tears off of his face, and nods laughing a bit as he cries, emotions all over the place. 

As the gentle, somber yet hopeful melody fades out, the applause that erupts from the spellbound audience startles Dorian out of his own trance, caught in Orym’s eyes, hardly believing that Orym had nodded yes to him. He ducks his head for a moment before looking out at everyone.

“That was Heart’s Will. Thank you all for being so wonderful tonight. Let’s close it out with an old favorite, yeah?” 

Orym tugs on Cyrus’ sleeve as an upbeat song starts up. “Take me backstage.”

Cyrus stops singing and looks at him, questioningly. “Huh?”

“Backstage, or wherever Dorian will be when he’s done with this song. Take me there.”

Cyrus finally clues in and grabs Orym’s elbow, slipping into the shadows and past Zunado who nods a hello. They’re standing in a room with some couches and the sound from outside is muffled. Orym can feel his ears ringing, just now realizing how loud it had been out there. There’s a thump on his arm and he turns to see Cyrus holding a tissue box. 

“I take it that last song was for you?”

Orym grabs a few and blows his nose. “My husband’s name was Will.”

Cyrus looks like he got punched in the gut. “Oh wow. Yeah,” he says a little shakily and sits down.

The music outside fades and Orym feels his heart jump into his throat. There’s footsteps outside the room and Dorian and the other band members spill in laughing and hugging. Dorian freezes when he sees Orym standing there. The other people in the room gawk at them both.

“Orym - ” Dorian breathes and Orym launches himself across the room, wrapping him in a hug, burying his face in Dorian’s neck. Dorian stumbles back before steadying them both and pulling Orym in even closer.

“You’re here?” Dorian whispers into his hair.

“I had to make sure you knew you had a home to come home to.” Orym murmurs into his neck. He pulls back and searches Dorian’s face. “With me. With Willow.” He takes a shaky breath. “I love you, Dorian.”

Dorian feels the words hit his head and heart and closes his eyes, letting them sink in. “I love you too, Orym.” He opens his eyes and says it again, eyes locked onto Orym’s. “I love you Orym, with everything I am.”

Orym grins and rocks up on his toes, pulling Dorian into a gentle kiss that heats as Dorian slips his hands into Orym’s hair and tilts his head back, pulling a gasp from Orym and licking along the seam of his lips. Orym nips at Dorian's bottom lip and sinks into the press of lips. They startle apart at a fake cough from the couch where Cyrus is still sitting there, flabbergasted. 

Dorian’s band mates are slowly inching their way out of the room and freeze when Dorian looks at them. Orym snorts and hides his face in Dorian’s chest, shoulders shaking from laughing when they all start clapping and congratulating them. Dorian presses a kiss to his temple and begins introducing him to everyone and Orym feels the worry that had been plaguing his heart for days release as he leans against Dorian, arm around his waist, content.

Chapter Text

“That’s our Winter’s Crest wish for you!”  

The chorus of children's voices wobbles all around the final note before landing on it and holding it as Dorian mouths the words along with them before cutting them off, the final notes of the piano sound beside him and he holds his hands out for the kids to stay still on the risers and to keep smiling. The piano stops and raucous applause breaks out as Dorian smiles widely as the kids start wiggling and waving. He quickly steps aside to gesture to the kids and lead them in a bow, some of the older ones remember they’re supposed to clap for Ms. Nell on the piano when she stands up to bow. Dorian scans the crowd and sees Cyrus standing and clapping wildly next to Orym who’s whistling loudly over the crowd’s cheers. Dorian motions for the kids to all sit down on the risers they’re standing on, miming capturing a bubble in his mouth and clasping his hands in front of himself and pointing for them to do the same, moving aside to keep an eye on the obviously excited kids as Nell walks to the front of the small stage, pulling out a few notecards.

“Thank you all for joining us this afternoon!” The applause erupts again and she waves it back down. “We’re so happy you all could make it. A Zephrah tradition we wouldn’t trade for the world. There’s a few people I want to thank before we return your little angels to you and chaos ensues.” Laughter ripples over the audience. “First of all: our wonderful mayor and her entire team, Keyleth, for making sure we have everything we need to set up each year, the space is available, making sure everyone’s permits are good and we don’t get bogged down in paperwork and we just get to enjoy the magic of the season.”

Keyleth stands up and waves to the applause and sits back down quickly, face turning pink.

Nell moves to the next flashcard. “Fearne for providing all of the wonderful floral decorations, darling you are magical, I’m convinced. She and Opal spent all day setting up every piece of decor you see here, please give them all of your compliments - I had nothing to do with it.”

Fearne and Opal both stand and wave, giggling at the applause, blowing a few kisses before sitting back down.

Nell stuffs her cards back in her pocket. “Next I want to thank my wonderful son-in-law, Orym, for building the set you see behind me and redoing the risers. I don’t know if you noticed the lack of squeaking this year - that was intentional. Normally he has help but our sweet Dariax has been down for the season so Orym had to share my assistant, who knows more about music than stagecraft.” 

Orym half stands and waves before sitting back down quickly, Nell shaking her head as the applause continues for longer than Orym was standing. 

Nell turns back slightly and looks at Dorian, who is motioning for one of the kids to be quiet just a little longer and smiles.

“And finally, I’d like to give some thanks to my assistant Dorian.” Dorian looks up wide-eyed. “He came over for dinner and left with the knowledge he was going to have to deal with me everyday until almost Winter’s Crest and he didn’t pack up and leave town. He helped pick music, wrangled the kids, directed, and that was after spending the day helping our Orym up on the mountain. He came here for a vacation and we put him to work and he never once complained, he just jumped right in.”

The audience bursts into applause and cheers as Dorian blushes and waves slightly.

Nell looks out at them all and smiles. “So come back tonight if you would like to hear his angelic voice as we close out the festivities. All right, now who wants their kids back?”

____________________

Dorian walks beside Orym with Willow up on his shoulders as they crunch across the snow packed gravel of the town square where booths are set up. 

Dorian squints at the offerings. “Hm. Do we want regular hot chocolate, mint hot chocolate, caramel hot - Orym, why are there so many different hot chocolate options?”

Orym laughs and pats his back and points at the sign that advertises flights from the different booths. “It’s the Zephrah Winter’s Crest festival, Dorian. We take our hot chocolate seriously here. You live here long enough, you come up with your own flair on hot chocolate and open a booth and put your own version into the running. We vote on our favorites. Some towns do chili cookoffs, we do this.” He looks up at Dorian’s awestruck face and smothers another laugh, tugging the stunned man’s face down to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll get us a couple flights, how’s that sound?”

“Okay,” Dorian breathes, still in awe at the rows of hot chocolate booths in front of him.

Orym squeezes his arm. “Grab us a table, I’ll be over, yeah?”

Dorian blinks and nods, scanning for an empty spot to sit down, looks up at Willow who is patting his head, lost in her own little world. “Hey munchkin, do you see an empty table we can sit at?” 

She looks around and points to a table he’d noticed as well and they make their way in that direction, Dorian lowering Willow down to let her run ahead, smiling back at her when she climbs up on the bench and lays flat to reserve it. He comes up and tickles her tummy gently, laughing back when she giggles. 

“I think we’re good, Willow. You can sit up.” She sits up and he helps brush snow out of her hair. “Did you have fun singing today?”

“Yep!”

“Well that’s good. Hey got a question for you.”

She wiggles around and looks up at him expectantly. He smiles. “Would you like it if I stayed around town for a while?”

Willow tilts her head in confusion.

Dorian continues. “Like, if I didn’t go back to my old home after Winter’s Crest and stayed in Zephrah with you and your daddy?”

Willow wiggles in excitement. “Stay in my house?”

Dorian smiles and boops her nose. “No, princess. I’ll have my own house, like your grandma does or Uncle Dariax. You can come visit me there or I’ll come visit your house?”

Willow frowns for a moment. “Everyday?”

Dorian’s heart leaps. “Most days, probably.”

Willow thinks for a moment before launching herself at Dorian and hugging him. “Okay!”

Dorian quickly wraps her in a hug so she doesn’t fall and closes his eyes in relief.

Orym’s voice cuts through the general noise of the festival. “Wow, what’s a guy gotta do to get a hug like that from his little girl?”

Dorian turns to see Orym walking up carrying two flights of miniature hot chocolate cups and smiles.

“Dorian stay!”

Orym’s eyebrows raise and he sets the flights on the table. “Oh yeah?”

Dorian settles Willow back on the bench next to him. “I was asking if she’d be alright with me sticking around after the holiday. Apparently she likes having me around or something.” He grins.

Orym’s eyes dart around and seeing no one pay attention to them, he leans down to steal a quick kiss, bringing a squeal from Willow and a contented sigh from Dorian. “Well, if we’re voting - I vote you stay too.”

The key in Dorian’s pocket weighs heavily but they’d agreed to do presents later and he simply smiles and pulls Orym back in for a lingering kiss before turning back to the hot chocolate on the table.

“Alright, tell me what we have here.”

____________________

Dorian sets up on the small stage, feeling more nervous before a show than he’s ever felt in his life. Cyrus is behind him on the piano and clocks the pale face, scooting around the ancient upright and grabbing his brother’s shoulder. 

“Hey, you alright?” He asks worriedly. 

Dorian nods jerkily. “Yeah, I’m - I’m fine. This place just means a lot. If they hate my music, I still have to face them in the morning.”

Cyrus scans the festival that is slowing down and quieting as children tire and some families head home and the rest are gathering around the stage once more. “I get that, but also - they already love you so even if they hate you you’ve already built up a grace boundary. If the vibe is bad, we cut after a few songs. It’s just a few Winter’s Crest carols.”

Dorian nods absently, taking a deep breath before side-eyeing him. “That is the worst advice. That shouldn’t have been comforting, I hate you.”

“You love me.”

Dorian rolls his eyes. “Did you get the chords for the new song?”

Cyrus nods. “Spent some of the afternoon working on it. I got it bro, no worries.”

Nell walks onto the stage. “Alright, boys, are you ready?”

The brothers nod at her, go through their elaborate pre-show handshake before parting ways on the stage - Cyrus behind the piano and Dorian to the center, tying his hair up. 

Nell walks up to the microphone. “Well my friends, welcome back. This year we are beyond lucky to have not just our Dorian leading us through some Winter’s Crest songs but also his brother Cyrus who surprised us all with a visit.” Cyrus grins, winks, and waves from behind the piano, blowing a kiss to Nell. Dorian rolls his eyes. “Dorian, take it away.” She gestures for Dorian to step up as applause breaks out.

Dorian motions for Cyrus to begin playing as he steps up. “Hey there, thanks for inviting me. Let's all sing along.”

Dorian leads them all through several classic songs and as the list comes to a close, he grabs his guitar.

“You’ve all been just wonderful. Not just tonight but from the moment I came to town, you all welcomed me with open arms. I’ll be forever grateful for each and every one of you and what this place means to me. For so long, I simply dreamed of visiting the beautiful pictures I saw online. Zephrah, I am pleased to report: reality is so much sweeter. So if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to do one more song. It’s a tribute to the home you’ve built here and my thanks to you in the way I know best.” 

He turns and nods at Cyrus and the opening notes to Mountain Home begin to play and when the song is done, the gathered audience is silent for a beat before erupting into applause and cheers, wiping away tears as Dorian whispers a thank you into the microphone once more and fading into the shadows.

Nell returns to the stage, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Well, that was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard.” Her voice is wobbly. “Dorian Storm and his brother Cyrus, everyone. Thank you once again boys for making our night so magical. Alright, everyone get home safe and enjoy your families. I don’t wanna see you until after the holiday.”

The crowd cheers and laughs, beginning to disperse as Nell rushes back and hugs Dorian tightly. “Thank you, dear. Are you staying with Fy’ra or Orym for the holiday, sweetheart?”

Dorian hugs her back. “Both, ma’am. I’m splitting my time. I’ll be with Orym and then when Orym’s heading over to everyone else’s I’ll be with Fy’ra and Cyrus and Dariax.”

Nell pats his cheek. “Well, know you’re welcome to join him at our place.”

Dorian smiles. “Thank you.”

She hugs him one last time and disappears into the night. Dorian finishes packing up his instruments and when he leaves the stage, Orym is waiting holding a sleeping Willow curled into his neck.

“Hi,” Dorian says, stopping and freezing the image in his head so he can remember it always, before stumbling forward from Cyrus not paying attention and crashing into him. “Cyrus! Seriously!”

Orym smirks and hides his laugh behind a glove as Cyrus looks up apologetically, looks at Orym then Dorian and a knowing look crosses his face. “Sorry, I’ll just - see you tomorrow, dude.” He winks, grabs Dorian’s guitar, and begins walking towards Fy’ra’s place.

Dorian sighs as Orym loses the battle and laughs out loud and walks over to Dorian, grabbing his hand and tugging him to his truck. Between the two of them, they get Willow buckled in. 

Orym closes the door gently and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking up at Dorian. “I was going to see if you wanted to come over? Since you’re coming over in the morning, it would just save a trip you know. But if you’re wanting to spend time with your brother I mmph - ”

Dorian crowds him against the truck, catching the back of his head so it doesn’t hit and capturing Orym’s cold lips under his, pressing up against him, letting himself kiss Orym the way he’s been wanting to all day. He feels Orym’s hands slide under his coat and up his back and shivers, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, licking into Orym’s mouth, warmth blooming between them as Orym groans when Dorian moves press a kiss under Orym’s scarf, nimble fingers undoing the knot that kept the mountain wind from blowing it away all day.

“Okay, so you are coming over? Cause if not, this is a hell of a goodnight kiss, sweetheart.” Orym pants.

Dorian looks up from where he’s been teasing Orym’s earlobe. “If I haven’t made it clear I’m coming over Orym, I must not be trying hard enough.” He rolls his hips into Orym’s and they both gasp. Orym pulls him back in for a heated kiss that is soon interrupted by a voice and bright light shining across the parking lot.

“Hey, you kids! Save your necking for another night. Get on home now!” 

The pair spring apart and squint at the bright flashlight pointed at them. 

Orym waves sheepishly, straightening his coat and scarf. “Sorry Harland, we’ll get out of here!”

“That you, Orym? If I gotta tell your Ma I caught you fooling around in the parking lot again…”

“No sir, we’re heading out. Have a Happy Winter’s Crest, sir!” Orym calls out and opens the passenger door for Dorian, who is blushing furiously.

Orym hops into the driver's seat and they look at each other and burst out laughing. He begins the drive home and after a few moments Dorian looks over. 

“‘Fooling around in the parking lot again’?”

Orym turns bright red. “Oh shut up.”

____________________

Early the next morning, Dorian sits on the couch, coffee cup in hand, sleepily watching the fire dance in the fireplace. Orym returns to the living room, scoots in beside him and Dorian shifts so he can lean against him, Orym’s arm wrapped around him.

“Willow still asleep?” Dorian asks quietly.

Orym huffs a small laugh. “Yeah, she’d tossed her blanket halfway across the room so I covered her back up. We’ve probably got an hour before she wakes up.”

Dorian hums and nuzzles into Orym’s chest. “Great, we can go back to sleep.”

Orym runs his fingers through Dorian’s hair. “Or I could give you your present now?”

Dorian sits up. “What?”

Orym pulls him close and drops a kiss on his lips. “You are so cute in the morning. Drink your coffee, I’ll get your present.”

Dorian takes a sip of coffee and watches him walk to the tree, coughing on the liquid when Orym squats down to search for the box amongst the pile of gifts for family and friends. Orym comes back and places a long box in Dorian’s lap.

Dorian blinks at it and Orym takes the coffee cup gently from him. “Go on.”

Tearing away the paper, it reveals a box that he opens to find a stringed instrument inside, curved like an hourglass and delicately carved with clouds and a forest. He pulls it out and holds it softly, running a gentle hand up the neck before strumming across the strings, the twang coming from them calling to something deep inside him. 

He looks up at Orym. “It’s beautiful, I don’t know what it is, but it’s beautiful!”

Orym blushes and his hand goes to the back of his neck. “It’s a mountain dulcimer. Somewhat simple to make if you know what you’re doing and I got some help from a guy on the next mountain over that makes mandolins. It probably needs tuning and we'll have to find a case for it but…” He trails off.

Dorian looks at him in awe, looks down at the instrument in his lap, and back up at Orym. “You made this?”

“Well, yeah, you’re a mountain man now. Thought maybe you could experiment with the sounds that come from here.”

“Orym, I’m - I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much,” he stammers and reaches out, leaning over the wrapping paper scraps and dulcimer to kiss Orym. "I have something for you too. I didn't make it. It's not - well. Hold on."

He gently sets the dulcimer back in the box and sets it aside, standing to go to his coat pocket. He comes back with a small box and hands it to Orym. 

"It's - oh just open it." Dorian presses his hands to his cheeks, willing them to cool down. 

Orym wiggles the lid off and looks at the key nestled inside. His eyes dart up to Dorian's. 

"I bought a house," Dorian says in a rush. "I'm in. I'm here. I'm staying. Forever. For as long as you'll have me and I want you to be part of it too. I've never had a home before. But here, in Zephrah, with you and Willow I feel like I finally know what home is and I want to continue to explore that with you both. So, um, come over whenever?”

Orym gently sets the box on the coffee table and straddles Dorian's lap, taking Dorian’s face in his hands. "I love you so much Dorian."

Dorian's hands fist in Orym's t-shirt. "I love you. I love your little girl. And I really want to know what life looks like with all of us together."

Orym smiles and runs a gentle thumb over Dorian's cheekbone. "I think we can arrange that."

He'd barely leaned in to kiss Dorian's waiting lips when footsteps stampede down the hall and into the living room. Orym barely has time to roll beside Dorian on the couch and they are still mostly tangled up and smothering laughter when Willow appears in the living room, dragging her blanket and blinking sleepily.

"Snuggles!" Willow demands and leaps into the middle of the two of them, situating herself for maximum snuggles with both. 

Dorian looks over her messy pigtails to Orym. "What happened to an hour?" He whispers.

Orym just shrugs with amusement as Willow nuzzles into her blanket, yawning and eyes drooping like she might fall back asleep. Dorian shifts them all slightly, tangling his legs with Orym’s and allowing him to rest his head on Orym's chest, sighing contentedly. 

None of this was in the plan when he took a chance a couple months ago and hopped on a plane, but as small hand rests on top of his and and strong arm holds him close - he knows he wouldn't have traded this new direction for anything.