Written for @jenn2d2 after she gave me a funny idea in the chat
Tag the harem @sorcerousadventurer @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @serialsforbellara @sandcastlekings @serensama @kabsey @lycheecatee @mushrooms-x-moss @redaresss @hedwigoprah @sunny374940 @tarasmom @handsignals @zennihilation @chaosherald @lemondelighted @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai
I have really struggled to do anything lately especially write so anyway have some Food Truck AU.
As always Food Truck AU is the brainchild of the amazing @davrinsleftpectoral
Riley sat stretched out across the oversized couch in his and Gladius' living room. His arm was drapped casually over the back, beer dangling precariously from his fingers as he watched the Tevinter Tigers take on the Orlesian Lions in a home game.
"Hey, Big Guy," his husband called from the kitchen. Glad's tone was a pitch higher than normal, a question hidden there that made Riley's eyebrow raise. Most others would have missed it, but he wasn't married for this many years without picking up on such things. He was being summoned, even if it wasn't directly.
Venhedis, game wasn't worth a shit anyway. He might as well get up and see what the commotion was all about.
"Everything alright?" He tried to keep his voice even though he crossed the room in three long strides. There were no burning smells coming from the nug loin in the oven, and surely the potatoes weren't giving Glad that much trouble.
"Oh, dinner is fine-" Gladius assured as Riley entered the room. He was standing behind the island with his phone in his hand, and Riley loved how his husband knew his line of thinking, even without him saying anything aloud. He swore they shared the same brain cell- most days.
"Then what is it, Mercar?" he asked with only a slight clip to his words as Glad finally looked up from his screen with a lopsided grin.
"Well I just got a text from Chief Ashur- you know from the fire department? Said he knew your phone would be dead so he messaged me."
Riley wouldn't address the comment about his phone. It was…somewhere. Probably on the bed, and more than likely was in fact- dead.
"Of course I know who you're talking about. Feel like we see those guys more than our own families," he huffed as he slipped the phone from Gladius' grip.
It had been…a few months since they had actually needed the fire department guys. Though he swore they got called at least once a week on false alarms to the food truck. It wasn't their fault not everyone was familiar with Burnin Down the Docks and their BBQ.
Not that the boys in uniform ever seemed to mind. They always got sent away with a free plate of food or two for the trouble.
He scanned the messages as he read them, a deep hum rumbling from his chest before he turned to meet Glad's gaze.
"So they are having a fundraiser? And they actually want us to participate?"
"It's their annual chili cook off," Gladius corrected with an affectionate pat to Riley's cheek. Maker could that man's smile ease all his tension, even when Glad added, "They want you to be a judge, and us to bring the truck. He asks we split profits with the department, which I think would be great. Brings us business and promotion, helps the guys…"
Glad continued to drone on but Riley wasn't really listening. The details didn't matter, not when his husband had that excited gleam in his eye.
If Gladius wanted this, then he wanted it. And by the Maker it would happen- come hell or rolling smoke.
