Bull reaches up to pull Dorian down further until he can meet him in a kiss. There is some part of him filled with anxiety over what this all means, and what it will mean for his immediate future. He shouldn't be taking so much comfort in Dorian's presence, in their bond. But how can he not, when Dorian has been such a rock?
"Good," he rumbles quietly. He can have tonight. Anything after this is uncertain. "Will you help me out of my brace?"
It's still afternoon, but Bull has no intention of going anywhere for the rest of the day; if Dorian has obligations, Bull will be waiting here for him.
The book slides out of Dorian's lap and onto the bed as Bull tugs him down into a kiss. He braces a hand on the pillow beside Bull's horn and takes another kiss for himself, lingering for a moment before he pushes himself back up.
"Of course," he says, and swings his legs from the side of the bed, passing around to Bull's side. "Sit up, then."
There isn't anything so pressing for him to do today that he'll leave Bull's side.
Bull runs his hand over Dorian's back before he pushes himself up to sit again. He rests his back against the headboard and sits still so that Dorian can work. He's been all over Skyhold today. It's hardly the worse he's done on this leg but he still feels it. The cold makes him feel stiff anymore.
"Thank you," he says quietly, and the way he says it suggests that he isn't just grateful that he has Dorian to help him get the brace off.
While Dorian can identify the loaded meaning behind the thanks the Bull gives him as he performs the now familiar task of removing his brace, he acknowledges it with merely a nod and a smile. They'll talk about it, he decides, when Bull is ready to do so. In the meantime, he's promised not to go anywhere.
"There," he says with satisfaction as he slides the brace away from Bull's leg, setting it in its usual place beside the bed to be put on again in the morning.
Without being asked, he rolls up the leg of Bull's pants past his knee, draws heat to his hand, and begins to massage the areas he knows tend to ache the most after Bull spends a day on his feet. Mitigating his physical pain is the least he can do for him now.
Bull breathes a sigh of relief as the brace comes off. He helps to get his boots off and then Dorian is rolling up his pants. He groans quietly and leans back again as heat sinks through his knee. Bull's head bumps against the wall and he relaxes as Dorian works. This is one of his favorite parts of the day, when they have time and space to do it. This gentle ritual that relieves the chronic pain that Bull has lived with for years. Most days he's alright, but he will never be completely hale again.
"What would you think if Tevinter suddenly reached out to the Inquisition?" he asks after a moment.
Dorian takes his time on Bull's knee, making sure the heat from his hands sinks in deep. He's done this so often that it's now almost routine, and his fingers remember what to do without having to consciously direct them.
Which is good, because the question Bull asks takes up most of his attention.
"I'd be expecting a knife in the back," he answers almost immediately. "My country doesn't make alliances. Far too much pride for that. We've always handled our own affairs, and let the south rot." Bitterness and contempt are heavy on Dorian's tongue.
He probably should have guessed that, whatever answer Dorian gave him, it would be tinged with contempt. Bull reaches to stroke his fingers down Dorian's arm.
"The Qunari don't either," he says quietly. "They conquer."
Whatever Bull feels about the way his people handle things is - or should be - irrelevant. But for more than ten years, they have been over there. No real interest in mustering an invasion, no real effort to push back into the south the way they had before. He'd let himself think there was safety in that.
Dorian's lips press into a thinner line as Bull voices his thoughts aloud--the first thought that had occurred to Dorian earlier. His hands continue their work, massaging down from Bull's knee along his calf, where the muscle takes a lot of strain.
"That is generally my impression as well. I am from Qarinus." The jewel of the eastern Imperium, and as such a regular target of Qunari raids.
He falls quiet for a moment, considering things like similarities and differences, their northern homelands, and the circumstances that have led them here. "You know, it's an incredible stroke of luck that we were able to meet." There's no need to elaborate on why; their nations have been at war for a hundred years or more. Natural enemies. Even Dorian had thought as much when he'd learned that Bull was not only a true Qunari, but Ben-Hassrath. "We could so easily have just...never known one another. Lived our lives on opposite sides."
Bull isn't so sure that it's luck anymore. Perhaps it was a mistake to let this happen. He doesn't want to consider that any deeper, but it keeps rolling around in his mind. He's gotten comfortable with Dorian in ways he hasn't allowed himself with others, and now his people have come crashing back into his life in a very big, very imminent way.
Lived our lives on opposite sides.
There is part of him that wants to point out that they are still on opposite sides. Dorian may not approve of what Tevinter currently is, but he believes in his country and is, in his own way, loyal to it. Bull, despite living as a Tal-Vashoth, is still very loyal to the Qun and the Qunari. Together or not, there is still a gulf between them.
But he says nothing and instead reaches to stroke his fingers through Dorian's hair and down along his neck. He focuses on the warmth sinking through his leg, the comfort the mage offers.
"Luck," he teases. "Lucky neither of us knows how to stay out of trouble."
Bull is here because of the opportunity it offered; Dorian is here because he believes he can help.
Blissfully unaware of Bull's far more self-aware train of thought, Dorian leans into the fingers carding through his hair. He smiles, pressing a kiss to the warm skin on the inside of Bull's knee as his hands move down to cover his ankle, spreading heat through joint.
"Oh, but you know that I only get into the fun sort of trouble," he teases in return. "Like trying to save the world from ancient magisters, slaughtering dozens of my countrymen, and bedding Qunari spies."
He lets his magic fade and rejoins Bull on the bed after he feels he's done a thorough job with his leg. He perches on the edge this time, leaning into the Bull's chest and resting his head on his shoulder. "I only mean to say," he continues softly, "that you've made all of this a bit less miserable. And I've been happy to get into trouble with you."
Bull slides his arm around Dorian to hold him close as he settles back. The sentiment is tender and Dorian is allowing himself to be vulnerable, two things that do not necessarily happen often. Bull knows how privileged he is to see this side of the mage, and that makes something in him ache. Dorian deserves better. He deserves far more than Bull can rightly promise to give him.
He tips his head down to kiss the top of Dorian's head. The words he says next cost him something, but he can offer a little honesty.
"Finding someone who understands my nostalgia has been one of the saving graces of this entire venture," he says quietly. It's more than that, though, far more. It isn't just that Dorian knows what cacao is or that he appreciates depth of flavor and spice in his food. Dorian is one of the only people in the Inquisition to have seen Bull through some very vulnerable, tense times.
He runs his hand along Dorian's arm, and even quieter, he says: "You ease pain, Dorian. I haven't been this comfortable in years."
Even now Dorian isn't being entirely open, hiding the depth of his feeling behind pessimistic phrasing and a lighthearted tone. But he's being far more transparent than his usual, which is something, especially when he curls close against the Bull's side, held there by the arm that curls around his back.
His hand, resting on Bull's chest, rubs a gentle circle over his sternum as he talks, feeling the vibrations of his voice beneath. He feels grateful for Bull's candor, recognizes how rare it is for him to even admit that he is in pain--of any sort--let alone that Dorian has eased it for him. It means...everything, really. Since the Winter Palace, Dorian has felt hopeful (perhaps unwisely) about what's between them, knowing that at least some of what he feels is reciprocated. It's the reason he's taken to sleeping in Bull's room every night, to gradually allowing their lives to intertwine even more intimately.
"My presence does tend to have that effect," he teases gently, affectionately. "I intend to keep you feeling very comfortable. I'm staying with you, Bull."
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"Good," he rumbles quietly. He can have tonight. Anything after this is uncertain. "Will you help me out of my brace?"
It's still afternoon, but Bull has no intention of going anywhere for the rest of the day; if Dorian has obligations, Bull will be waiting here for him.
no subject
"Of course," he says, and swings his legs from the side of the bed, passing around to Bull's side. "Sit up, then."
There isn't anything so pressing for him to do today that he'll leave Bull's side.
no subject
"Thank you," he says quietly, and the way he says it suggests that he isn't just grateful that he has Dorian to help him get the brace off.
no subject
"There," he says with satisfaction as he slides the brace away from Bull's leg, setting it in its usual place beside the bed to be put on again in the morning.
Without being asked, he rolls up the leg of Bull's pants past his knee, draws heat to his hand, and begins to massage the areas he knows tend to ache the most after Bull spends a day on his feet. Mitigating his physical pain is the least he can do for him now.
no subject
"What would you think if Tevinter suddenly reached out to the Inquisition?" he asks after a moment.
no subject
Which is good, because the question Bull asks takes up most of his attention.
"I'd be expecting a knife in the back," he answers almost immediately. "My country doesn't make alliances. Far too much pride for that. We've always handled our own affairs, and let the south rot." Bitterness and contempt are heavy on Dorian's tongue.
no subject
"The Qunari don't either," he says quietly. "They conquer."
Whatever Bull feels about the way his people handle things is - or should be - irrelevant. But for more than ten years, they have been over there. No real interest in mustering an invasion, no real effort to push back into the south the way they had before. He'd let himself think there was safety in that.
no subject
"That is generally my impression as well. I am from Qarinus." The jewel of the eastern Imperium, and as such a regular target of Qunari raids.
He falls quiet for a moment, considering things like similarities and differences, their northern homelands, and the circumstances that have led them here. "You know, it's an incredible stroke of luck that we were able to meet." There's no need to elaborate on why; their nations have been at war for a hundred years or more. Natural enemies. Even Dorian had thought as much when he'd learned that Bull was not only a true Qunari, but Ben-Hassrath. "We could so easily have just...never known one another. Lived our lives on opposite sides."
no subject
Lived our lives on opposite sides.
There is part of him that wants to point out that they are still on opposite sides. Dorian may not approve of what Tevinter currently is, but he believes in his country and is, in his own way, loyal to it. Bull, despite living as a Tal-Vashoth, is still very loyal to the Qun and the Qunari. Together or not, there is still a gulf between them.
But he says nothing and instead reaches to stroke his fingers through Dorian's hair and down along his neck. He focuses on the warmth sinking through his leg, the comfort the mage offers.
"Luck," he teases. "Lucky neither of us knows how to stay out of trouble."
Bull is here because of the opportunity it offered; Dorian is here because he believes he can help.
no subject
"Oh, but you know that I only get into the fun sort of trouble," he teases in return. "Like trying to save the world from ancient magisters, slaughtering dozens of my countrymen, and bedding Qunari spies."
He lets his magic fade and rejoins Bull on the bed after he feels he's done a thorough job with his leg. He perches on the edge this time, leaning into the Bull's chest and resting his head on his shoulder. "I only mean to say," he continues softly, "that you've made all of this a bit less miserable. And I've been happy to get into trouble with you."
no subject
He tips his head down to kiss the top of Dorian's head. The words he says next cost him something, but he can offer a little honesty.
"Finding someone who understands my nostalgia has been one of the saving graces of this entire venture," he says quietly. It's more than that, though, far more. It isn't just that Dorian knows what cacao is or that he appreciates depth of flavor and spice in his food. Dorian is one of the only people in the Inquisition to have seen Bull through some very vulnerable, tense times.
He runs his hand along Dorian's arm, and even quieter, he says: "You ease pain, Dorian. I haven't been this comfortable in years."
And he isn't talking about his leg.
no subject
His hand, resting on Bull's chest, rubs a gentle circle over his sternum as he talks, feeling the vibrations of his voice beneath. He feels grateful for Bull's candor, recognizes how rare it is for him to even admit that he is in pain--of any sort--let alone that Dorian has eased it for him. It means...everything, really. Since the Winter Palace, Dorian has felt hopeful (perhaps unwisely) about what's between them, knowing that at least some of what he feels is reciprocated. It's the reason he's taken to sleeping in Bull's room every night, to gradually allowing their lives to intertwine even more intimately.
"My presence does tend to have that effect," he teases gently, affectionately. "I intend to keep you feeling very comfortable. I'm staying with you, Bull."