Chapter Text
“... Certainly, mages often use it as a source of light, for its flame burns without wood or oil. It can also activate dormant spells, which has its uses. Veilfire’s true potential, however, is as a medium for--”
“Maker’s breath! Are you still here?”
Caim Lavellan looked up at Dorian with a frown of irritation and confusion. Irritation at the interruption, and confusion at the simple fact it took him a few seconds to remember where he was. When his mind broke clear of the fog his studies created, he was surprised at how dark the library had become. When had that happened? Last time he’d looked up, the early afternoon sun had shone through the windows!
He pushed away from the table and its large stack of books, putting a hand to his neck to ease a cramp that flared to life as he moved. “Dorian? What time...?”
The mage clucked his tongue in that annoyingly endearing superior manner of his. “Two hours after nightfall, Inquisitor. And let me guess, you’ve worked straight through dinner, haven't you?”
Lavellan ducked his head, blushing as his stomach chose that moment to make a complaint. Dorian twitched his mustache in disapproval, a spark of concern flashing despite the stern expression. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “Whatever is it that’s captivated your attention? I understand the draw of a good book, but…” He reached out to read the cover of the tome Lavellan had lost the afternoon poring through. “A primer on veilfire? By Magister Pendictus, of all people? A bit dry, even for a mage’s taste. Which, you are not, unless you’ve been a secret apostate this entire time.”
“We’re relying on mages to win this war,” Lavellan pointed out, rolling his neck to work out a crick. “Besides, we keep running into the damned stuff. It doesn’t hurt to learn a bit about it.” Besides, he didn’t think it was that dry. He’d definitely found worse on the shelves of Skyhold’s library. How was it that people managed to turn a perfectly interesting history into sheer boredom? It was truly a terrible shame.
“Learning is all well and good, but not at the moment. You need a break and something to eat. And I am in need of a charming fellow to escort me to Varric’s little get-together in the Herald’s Rest.” The mage stepped back, offering Lavellan a hand up.
“I really wish they’d chosen a different name,” Lavellan grumbled, making a face as he stood, taking the proffered hand. He felt stiff, and as much as he loathed the interruption of his studies, he knew the break was needed. Besides, Dorian was good (fantastic) company, and Lavellan didn’t mind sparing an entertaining hour or two with him.
Dorian grinned brightly down at him. “Oh, I don’t know. You could do with a bit of flattery. Maker knows it does me wonders.” He slid his hand to the crook of Lavellan’s elbow, holding him close. Lavellan did his best to ignore the way that made his stomach flip. He liked the altus, he well and truly did, but flirting and the occasional tumbling aside… He’d already made his peace that a serious relationship was far out of his reach. Best to stick to friends. With occasional benefits. Keeping that in mind, he surrendered his arm to Dorian, and together they headed to the tavern.
“Hey! You found him!” Varric called out, raising a tankard as they swanned into the common room a few minutes later. “Was he trapped in paperwork again?”
“Library,” Dorian replied, elegantly flopping himself into a nearby chair. “Poor thing had fallen prey to a stack of books.”
Lavellan stuck his tongue out at them both and found his own chair. “I just got a bit absorbed is all,” he said as he gratefully accepted a plate one of the serving girls slid his way. Lissa…. Liesl… He wasn’t too sure on her name, but at that moment she was as divine as any goddess. He didn’t care what was on the plate, just that it was food. Away from the twin scents of paper and dust, his hunger reared its ugly head, and he devoured it with little thought for taste.
“Easy there, your Inquisitorialness. Don’t want you to choke on that. That’d be terrible way to go after all the shit you’ve done.” Varric gestured to Lissa/Liesl and soon Lavellan held a tankard of ale of his very own.
“I don’t know, Varric,” Dorian put in, grabbing a drink for himself. “It sounds rather tragic.”
“There’s tragic and there’s pathetically tragic, Sparkler. We want to avoid the latter. And the former. Let’s just avoid tragedy.”
“I’ll drink to that,” rumbled a deep voice from behind. Lavellan looked up to see Bull walking down the stairs with Cole in tow. His stomach performed another uncomfortable flip. There was another friend with very occasional benefits. Once again, he ignored the feeling. He was the Inquisitor. Anything beyond a casual relationship was out of reach simply do to his very job. Which was honestly fine.
“Amatus, you’ll drink to anything,” Dorian drawled.
The Iron Bull flopped down next to the mage and wrapped a massive arm around him. “You say that like it’s a problem. Give me a bit and I’ll drink to you, too.” Dorian flushed at that and huffed, but he allowed Bull to tug him closer and press a kiss to his temple.
Lavellan choked on a bite of bread as heart gave a curious, near painful twist. Tears began to stream from his eyes as he coughed. Someone pounded on his back, and he had a hunch he might have bruises in the morning. When he could breathe again, he saw Cole and Varric next to him.
“Easy kid, I think he’s good,” Varric said, shaking his head. “See, I told you, Inquisitor. I don't want to be the one to tell the Seeker that we lost the Herald to a loaf of bread and some mashed potatoes.”
“Thanks,” Lavellan managed to gasp out once he got his voice back. He grabbed a napkin and wiped his face. Everyone in the room was staring at him, which was a sensation he still wasn't quite used to.
“You alright there, Boss?” Bull asked from his spot by Dorian.
“I’m fine,” Lavellan answered with a watery smile. “It’ll take a bit more than that to get me out of your hair.”
“But he doesn't have hair!” Cole exclaimed.
“It’s an expression, Cole,” Dorian said quickly as Bull opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”
Lavellan sighed and sat back, his near-death experience for the day fading. He studied Bull and Dorian for a quiet moment as both Varric and Dorian tried to keep Bull from confusing Cole anymore than necessary. How long had they been an item, he wondered. They looked good together, and as he thought more about it, they did suit each other very well.
Something painful, close to relief swelled within him as his heart relaxed, and an unconscious smile tugged at his lips. They were good together, he realized. They could give each other everything he wouldn't have been able to. He could lay his silly longings aside and concentrate on his work, trusting his friends to each other.
“See something you like?” Dorian’s voice cut through his thoughts like ribbons. Lavellan grinned at him.
“With you? Always,” he answered easily, eyes drifting over him in appreciation. “I’m just wondering if you two are recent or if I’m going blind. Congratulations, either way”
“Recent enough,” came the reply. “Though with the way you’ve been holed up in the library for the past week, it’s a miracle you noticed at all.”
“You hole up in that library a lot yourself, you know,” Varric put in. “I’m starting to think we need to stage an intervention.”
“Oh please, it’s not that bad!” “I’m here now, aren’t I?” Dorian and Lavellan both protested over each other.
Bull snorted into his drink. “That kind of makes his point for him.”
Further protesting was killed by the arrival of Cullen and Josephine. Varric brightened and sat up straighter. “We’ve got enough for a game. Where have you two been?”
“I got caught by a couple of our ‘esteemed’ guests.” Cullen scowled as he took a seat. Josephine giggled.
“Lady Charlise and Monet managed to corner the Commander again,” she explained. “He needed a bit of rescuing.”
“Popular as ever, Cullen?” Lavellan slid him a drink. “Maybe we should have you handle them from now on. They’d be eating out of your hand in no time!”
Cullen blanched at that and downed his tankard. “Don't even joke like that, Inquisitor,” he said, pained expression plain.
“Aw, Curly, you’ve just got to gain a little finesse is all!”
“Finesse? I have plenty--”
“When swinging a sword maybe,” Dorian interrupted.
“Hey, are we going to play or spend the night teaching Cullen how to flirt?” Bull asked over Cullen’s sputtered retort.
“I’ll deal!” Josephine called out. Varric grinned and threw her the deck. The cards were divided and with an opening bid of three silver, the game took off with a merry start.
From there the evening became a pleasant blur of joking, drinking, and fine company. The Lady Ambassador cleaned them out by the end of the night, to no one’s surprise, and when Lavellan finally bid goodnight and took his leave, it was with a light heart and stumbling feet. He fell into bed with a happy sigh, his last thought was that Dorian was right to pry him out of the library. He’d needed a break.
At morning’s first light, Lavellan awoke with just as good a mood. He sat up in bed, feeling refreshed and eager to start the day. It took him a moment to place the cause, and when he did, a smile stretched across his face. Dorian and Bull. He didn't have to fret about his vague, confused feelings for them any longer. With that distraction out of the way, he could focus with renewed purpose. Getting out of bed, he whistled a happy tune to himself. It was time to get to work.