Connecting Flights
A Word: Modern AU. Cullen and Dorian find themselves sitting next to each other on a long series of flights, and someone gets tired of the cookies.
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The first flight Dorian thinks he's lucky. The flight from Starkhaven to Ostwick is a short one, and the plane is a smaller business class plane with only a single row of seats on each side. A little cramped in headroom perhaps, but he at least won't be fighting for elbow room just yet. Dorian settles into his seat across from a rather distracted and distractingly attractive blonde after stowing his bag.
He lets himself admire the awkward sprawl of long legs covered by a pair of horrible loose jeans as the stewardess runs through the spiel. The man isn't listening either and has the rather dazed expression of someone who isn't fully awake just yet.
He perks up a little five minutes after takeoff when the stewardess bustles down the aisle passing out small, wrapped cookies. 'Compliments' of the airline and one of the driest things Dorian has had the misfortune of trying. The flight is otherwise uneventful.
The second flight to Kirkwall -because Starkhaven doesn't have direct flights there for some damnable reason- is larger and Dorian sighs in resignation as he takes his seat next to the window. He's booked all his seats carefully for this hellish trip so that none of them put him in the rows with three or, Maker forbid, four seats. Which is truly the best he can hope for with his limited funds.
"Excuse me," the words are polite nonsense, and Dorian looks up at his seatmate in time to get a rather tantalizing view of tight muscles and golden trail of hair before the blond man from the first flight shuts the overhead compartment and his shirt falls back into place.
He's more alert looking at least, and Dorian thinks that's rather unfair because he's starting to feel rather frazzled himself now as the man sits. They're both decently sized men and the seats aren't quite made with that in mind so there's a little overlap with their legs before they both sort themselves out.
Dorian gives a polite smile that's returned with just the right amount of disinterest for him to not bother trying for small talk. Dorian is a master of small talk, but personally finds it tedious when both parties are trapped on a plane. He appreciates the blonde's reticence in the matter.
"Hello!" The perky steward interrupts their studious ignoring of each other after take off. He's smiling to widely to not be under some drugging influence and is holding a basket. "Would you care for some of out complimentary cookies?"
It's the same dry brand and Dorian sighs even as he opens the pitifully small packet. There'd been no time to grab something in Ostwick like he'd hoped, and the slight hunger gnawing at him doesn't improve the taste much.
Kirkwall is a shithole. Dorian's carefully planned layover falls to pieces when he figure out there isn't a single place in the terminal serving food. It's far too late to try leaving when he does accept that and he has to hustle to make the flight to Denerim because of his debating. His stomach is not happy at all with him as Dorian wades through a sea of legs left in the aisle to his seat.
His taken seat on the aisle.
The blonde looks at him in suprise, and Dorian can't help but echo it. Three times is not just coincidence. He stores his bag quickly before stepping over the man to the empty seat next to the window.
"Sorry," the man says as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. "I was going to ask, but no one was showing up and I really don't do well with window seats."
"As long as I'm not sandwiched between two people who are all elbows I really don't have a preference," Dorian turns enough to give the man a smile and his hand. "Dorian Pavus. We seem to be heading the same way."
"Cullen Rutherford," the man answers and shakes his hand firmly. "I'm heading to Haven actually."
So is Dorian, and he takes a moment to study the man more thoroughly. He's clean shaven and has the kind of ordered poise that Dorian can only label as military. Combined with the callouses on the hand he shook it seems likely. "Hell of a series of connecting flights isn't it? I'm headed that way to meet a friend."
"Oh?" Dorian finds himself the subject of a more thorough assessment as well as Cullen frowns a little. He doesn't say anything else though and that is perhaps for the best if they're both going there for the same reason. A little paranoia never hurt anyone. "Yes, it is. I almost think it would have been quicker to drive."
"No thank you," Dorian snorts and leans back in his seat as he sees the stewards making the rounds with familiar baskets of wrapped cookies. "You'd have to drive to Orlais and then ferry across the Waking Sea, and I rather like keeping my stomach inside thank you very much."
Cullen laughs and they bond over their shared miseries with sea sickness before the cookies reach them. Cullen is stupendously nice as he hands his own over for Dorian to ravenously eat as he'd been smart enough to immediately go off the terminal for food. The flight flies by in a pleasant series of conversations. Interrupted infrequently by the appearance of the dreadful cookies that Dorian chokes down unwillingly much to Cullen's amusement.
In Denerim Cullen insists on them grabbing some soft pretzels from a van in the parking lot that Dorian never would have known about on his own. They are very good and well worth it.
"What seat do you have on the next flight," Cullen asks as they wander back into the airport. Dorian plucks the ticket out of his pocket and hands it over instead of freeing his mouth from the delicious food. Cullen laughs almost immediately. "Do you want to trade seats again?"
"Really?" Dorian asks with a laugh as he swallows. Cullen holds up a second ticket, and yes, they are in fact sitting next to each other again. "How in the name of the Void did we manage that?"
Their flights end in Calenhad, from there it's a private plane all the way to Haven. A small plane that will probably be crowded with the just the two of them and the pilot.
"Luck?" Cullen guesses with a faint smile that's really unfair as he steers them to the departure point. People are already filing on and it takes several minutes for them to fight their way to their seats.
"I'll certainly call it luck to have run into you," Dorian picks up the conversation once they've settled in. He smiles and lets it grow just a tad too large and friendly. A little more when Cullen's only response is an awkward shrug that's more shy than uncomfortable. "You have made the trip far more bearable than it has any right to be."
"I could say the same of you," Cullen says and meets Dorian's eyes for a moment before glancing away to clear his throat. "Ah, your favorite part."
"I'm tired of these fucking cookies!" Dorian leans his head back on the chair and wails, perhaps a little too loudly going by the startled expression on the woman's face as she stops next to them with a basket. Cullen snorts next to him before covering his face with one hand and laughing.
The flight is brief, and the cookies skip right over their row the next time they get brought out. Much to Dorian's relief and Cullen's continued amusement. It's not until they're both folding themselves into the small plane at Calenhad that Dorian notices the rather wicked glint to the man's amusement.
"Would you care for some complimentary cookies?" Cullen asks even before Dorian's buckled in and a package of the damnable things is waved in his face.
"Remove those from my face before I put them somewhere you will find very uncomfortable," Dorian scowls and then has to work hard to maintain it as Cullen completely looses it and doubles over in laughter. His humor is unfortunate, but Dorian can't regret meeting Cullen on this trip.
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