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“I have been informed,” Cullen started, trying too hard not to look at Dorian pouting imperiously off to the side, “that Dorian is upset with you.”
The library or the tavern was too public for a guy like Dorian, and Cullen’s office was probably more public than those places. Soldiers and Inquisition contacts were constantly in and out of there. So, all three of them crowded into Dorian’s messy quarters for the important conversation. One the mage himself apparently wasn’t going to take any part of, based on how Cullen kept speaking on his behalf. Not looking terribly like he wanted to, shifting his weight uneasily that way. The Commander would rather be in the middle of a brawl than an argument. Didn’t need two eyes to see that.
At least it was warm in the smaller room Dorian laid claim to. Loaded up with books and blankets, some wine bottles, and a pricey full-length mirror. But warm.
“Is that right? What did I do?” Humoring the setup, Bull spoke directly to Cullen. He’d deal with a lot to show their Tevene lover that he cared. As much as Dorian had to process things on his terms, Bull felt pretty sure that the Qun assassins were the problem.
“While I understand your preference for handling this yourself,” Cullen fumbled his role, but who was The Iron Bull to point fingers about that?
“Don’t side with him!” Snapping, Dorian whacked Cullen’s shoulder. The mage was toned, but Cullen was tougher. It couldn’t have hurt. Now the scowl, that had some bite to it. Cullen let out a breath and his shoulders fell.
“Hm, apologies.” Turning back to Bull, he put on his War Table face. It wouldn’t last long. “Dorian would like it known that he’s familiar with assassination attempts. His first time being targeted was in his youth, which is meant to be reassuring. Somehow.”
Like that, the all-business expression was gone and their lover made an indignant sound.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Dorian cut in again, every bit as scathing, and looked up from the book he was definitely not reading. He faced Bull before he realized what he was doing. Looking for commiseration about how honest and forthright Cullen was when the Tevene mage was much more guarded... That only worked if Bull wasn’t on the outs. Which he was. So when Bull quirked an eyebrow, Dorian glowered and turned away again. “Do it the way I said.”
“You realize you could say it,” Cullen explained, patiently, the way one would to an unruly teenager. Dorian fortunately knew he was being like that and stared haughtily at his book. “Then it would be exactly how you told me.”
“I could, yes.”
“It’s alright, Cullen. He’s allowed to be mad.”
“Allowed?!” The book took the brunt of his escaped rage, Dorian slamming it onto the narrow and crowded desk beside him. A stack of parchment softened the loud smack he probably wanted. Bull was something of an expert in when Dorian was looking for a reason for lash out. He launched to his feet and paced the width of the small room. Sweeping gestures punctuated the particularly emphatic parts of his fuming tirade. “What a relief, to have your permission! That settles it! All better now!”
Cullen had fallen quiet, of course. Poor Fereldan man was entirely confused. That brow was furrowed deeper than the rainforest’s canyons in Par Vollen. He wouldn’t ask about the plan. A commander even in matters of the heart, the blond gentleman waited for his orders. Dorian whipped around, flushed and waving his arm aggressively at the former Templar.
“Oh, I…? Yes. Right.” Clearing his throat, Cullen started up again. It was easier to picture him as the oldest Templar recruit when he got anxious like that. Bringing the most to every little thing he did to prove he could be one of the best even if he was a late bloomer. The Commander looked flushed when Bull smirked, and the pretty blond fought a smile of his own when he looked away to their aloof third. “If I remember it right, Dorian said hiding the upcoming assassination attempt, formality or not, was—ah—an egregious and self-centered oversight that he would not forget anytime soon?”
“Some paraphrasing, but yes. Essentially,” Dorian couldn’t help reassuring Cullen with a gentle pat to his shoulder. That soft side always had its grip on him, and that was one of the many reasons to love the Tevene brat. He squared his shoulders and tried all too hard not to look at Bull like he did once already. Grabbing his book once more, he went for his usual defense. “That.”
“It wasn’t serious. Basically amounted to a letter.” Bull sensed Dorian bristling before he even glowered over the top of his ignored book and did his best to get ahead of it. Holding his hands up, hoping the missing fingers would do the trick to round off the sharp edges of Dorian’s fury, Bull shrugged. “But I get it. You wanted to be included. It’s… It’s been a lot, adjusting to being Tal-Vashoth. I still don’t want to say it. Guess I took that and ran too far with it, and I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Always so surprised to be apologized to, Dorian’s glare at Bull softened to a wary once-over. After a long while—too long for Bull’s nerves, it felt like sitting on barrels of gatlok and lighting a candle—he nodded. Cautiously, he set the book down on a nearby desk. Bull half-expected he’d twirl his moustache for effect. The mage wasn’t in a playful enough mood just yet.
“Yes, well.” He uncrossed and recrossed his legs, apparently restless. Probably the feelings. Dorian had a lot of them and usually wasn’t sure what to do about most of them. “I suppose I can’t blame you for carrying old baggage from your home.”
Cullen dared to release a thankful breath and Dorian snapped his pout at him. Bull didn’t laugh, but it was a close call. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, as the Fereldans would say. Cullen could recover much faster than he could.
“I—I’m just happy to have this resolved.” Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck, looking young out of nowhere again. Maybe the two of them brought that out in him. Bull was gonna have to get more observant about those things, or he’d lose his edge. Krem and the boys would never let him live it down. “You know I can’t keep up when the two of you fight.”
“You’re too kind and gentlemanly, it’s true,” Dorian flirted in his way. Getting up to put his arm through Cullen’s, Bull felt more at ease just seeing them both relax a bit more. He rested against a wall and Dorian didn’t even tell him he might knock it down if he’s not careful. Topple a wall one time, and a guy won’t hear the end of it. Dorian pressed a kiss to Cullen’s cheek and left a new flush there in his wake. “I can live with that.”
“So, everything’s better now?” Bull moved closer to his two people, and Cullen was first to reach for his hand. Dorian was big on cupping his face, and that much hadn’t changed. How he kept callouses away while always working that staff, Bull didn’t know. He could only make so many staff jokes to try and find out without asking. He leaned into the soft, warm palm on his blind side and smiled. Cullen was the easy blusher. But watching Dorian’s expression stutter into something happy and unfamiliar was every bit as good. If he could spend the rest of his life flustering Cullen and showing Dorian love, it’d be a damn good role to fill. “We good?”
“I wouldn’t spar with me for the next few weeks,” Dorian snipped, because he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t. He was slow and careful when he leaned up to kiss Bull’s cheek too. Settling back against Cullen, Dorian trailed his hand down Bull’s arm to hold the hand missing a few fingers. “But yes. I believe I shall overlook your little accident in the confidence you’ll never hide such things from us again.”
“I’ll try my hardest, kadans.”
“We all will,” Cullen promised, pulling Bull’s hand to meet theirs. It wasn’t neat—two arms interlinked and a third hand drawn in. But they were together, and this was their messy little union. Plenty of room for the Inner Circle and the Chargers around their trio. Bull had a place to belong, no matter what the Qun said.