"Ah— wait…"
Anduin stopped the motion that Wrathion had tried to carry, his hands still pressed firmly against Wrathion's chest but his leg braced against the edge of the rose-scattered bed Wrathion had just tried to throw him onto.
"What?" Wrathion tried to come across as irritated, but his insecurity was plain on his face for Anduin to see. "Is it not romantic enough? I was surethis would—"
"Calm down," Anduin smiled, "it's nothing that bad. I just—"
"Was it something I said? Did I not woo you sufficiently beforehand? Did I forget something?"
"In a manner of speaking—"
"Ohh, I should have brought you wine! I knew I was a fool for deciding not to!" He brought a hand to his forehead and sneered at himself. "I just knewI'd mess something—"
"Wrathion," Anduin intoned. "It's fine. I just wanted to know if you took the thorns off the roses."
The dragon blinked twice. "The… wait, you're meant to take them off?"
"Yes," Anduin laughed. The sound was light and pleasant. "Not everyone is a masochist like you, Wrathion."
Wrathion's face burned as red as the burgandy rose petals that had lined the way here. "Oh."
Anduin gently, reassuringly stroked his thumb along the ridge of Wrathion's cheek. "It's alright. It'll be nicer if they're in a water vase anyway. Want to help me pick them up?"
"It's not like I have much of a choice," Wrathion muttered, looking scolded.
"I'm not upset with you, Wrathion. It's alright."
"Sure, sure." The dragon didn't sound convinced.