Chapter Text
By their fifth casual date – the ones that didn’t require suits or the ties that never lasted the whole meal – Dorian had possession of four hoodies that belonged to Cullen. It was warmer where the man was from, but he refused to dress in a way that accounted for the difference. His shirts almost always bordered on indecent, with cut-outs or sheer areas or netting. Dorian’s pants, on the other hand, were always better. They clung in a way that made Cullen’s mouth water, but at least they were warm. It was enough to make a man think those ridiculous-for-anything-but-clubbing shirts were donned on purpose, with the aim of getting his hands on another article of clothing from Cullen’s closet.
So when he showed up at Cullen’s door for that fifth casual date with an armful of hoodies, Cullen was understandably concerned.
“Do you… not want them anymore?” Maker, he hated how vulnerable he sounded. He still ushered Dorian in, however, despite the sinking feeling in his chest and the way his stomach was twisting unpleasantly. “You aren’t… you’re not… whatever it is, Dorian, just tell me and give me a chance to fix it. Please.”
There was a lot he was willing to do to save this relationship, so he hoped Dorian would just tell him whatever it was that he was doing wrong. Things with Dorian were just… well. Great, really, or so he’d thought. It was the probably the healthiest romantic entanglement he’d ever had. They both had issues, sure, but their baggage seemed to match up quite well. So the thought of Dorian being unhappy enough to end things? It sent peals of panic ringing in his head.
Please, please let me fix this, he prayed silently even as the part of him that was always sure the worst would happen began to make plans. Please don’t let me lose him. He’d have to call Varric or Cassie right away, because as soon as Dorian was gone the urge to drink would be there. And meetings – he’d need to start attending meetings again for a while. He would need to grab hold of his sobriety with both hands and hold on for dear life. His addiction was always looking for a reason to reassert itself, after all, and this would be the best excuse he’d had in a while.
“… what?” Dorian asked, interrupting Cullen’s frantic planning and blinking like a deer in headlights.
“You… you’re not breaking up with me, are you?” Dorian immediately looked aghast, and he felt like an utter idiot. Why did he always jump to the worst possible scenario?
Dorian dropped the hoodies on the floor, and before Cullen was even halfway through berating himself Dorian was right there. He was right there with one arm wrapped around Cullen and the other cradling the back of his neck. It was something of a relief to let himself fall forward and rest his forehead on Dorian’s shoulder. Both of his own arms went around the other man, and he took hold of the back of Dorian’s shirt. It was a blue button-up today, where the front panels were mostly sheer but for the pattern of thin vines snaking across them – Dorian really was flashy and ridiculous in the extreme. As he breathed the man in, he felt a soft kiss pressed to the crown of his head, and Dorian’s clever fingers were rubbing the back of his neck in a very soothing fashion.
“No, Cullen. Maker no. Why in the world would you think that?”
“You brought the hoodies back,” Cullen mumbled into his shoulder, feeling a blush crawl over his cheeks. “You wear these silly shirts just to get them, and you brought them back, and I’m a fool.”
A burst of laughter ruffled his hair, and Dorian drew him a little closer. “Not a fool, no. And I only brought them back because…” the man trailed off, sounding embarrassed. Curious, Cullen peeked up at him to see that rare and wonderful trace of red in his cheeks. “They don’t smell like you anymore.” Cullen couldn’t help but stare, because that was pretty much the opposite of what he’d thought was happening.
“They don’t… smell like me?”
“No. I thought I was very clear with my housekeeper that they weren’t to be washed, but she must have misunderstood. She did, and now they smell like my detergent instead of you, and I don’t like it.”
“So you brought them back-”
“For you to wash and wear until they smell right again.” That… was adorable and sweet, and it prompted Cullen to lift his head and catch Dorian’s mouth in a tender kiss. The man gave a soft hum of pleasure and relaxed into the gesture immediately. The hand at the back of his neck slid into Cullen’s hair and gripped the locks with just the right amount of force. That drew a moan from him, and just like that the kiss went from sweet to downright filthy.
Dorian surged forward, connecting them from chest to thigh; when Cullen gasped, his tongue immediately took advantage. While Dorian was busy owning his mouth, Cullen stumbled back a step, then kept going. His body knew this apartment even when he was blackout drunk, even when he was drying out and pacing like a caged lion, even when the cravings were so bad he couldn’t pay attention to anything else. So he didn’t worry about where his body was taking them – he wasn’t going to trip over anything, he was sure – because he had far more important things to focus on. Like the way Dorian kept tugging his hair, or how his other hand now had a tight hold of Cullen’s left hip. Or Dorian’s sinful tongue as it continued to plunder his mouth – that felt like an especially urgent thing to pay attention to.
He wasn’t that surprised when his back hit a wall, or by the way Dorian instantly caged him in. His hand left Cullen’s hair and hit the wall by his head, staying there and making Cullen feel pinned in the most wonderful way. One thigh found its way between his legs, and Cullen couldn’t help but give a soft whimper in response. Dorian growled, and the rumble of it sent shivers down his spine. He broke the kiss, but it was only to bite at Cullen’s lip in a move that sent a fission of pleasure/pain through him; the man soothed the hurt with his tongue as soon as Cullen’s hips bucked upward. Then he began a series of shorter, clinging kisses designed to turn Cullen’s knees to jelly – it was a strategy that always worked.
Cullen had been running his hands over Dorian’s back, occasionally grabbing hold of his shirt again. As Dorian teased his tongue lightly over the sensitive area just inside his lower lip, he switched things up. With his left hand, he raked his nails down the length of Dorian’s back, making him hiss with pleasure, and slid his fingers into the man’s back pocket once that trek was over. It was a gesture Dorian adored, and he seemed to like it even more when Cullen used it to get a handful of his ass and squeeze. His right hand went to cup Dorian’s jaw, thumb stroking his skin in an encouraging manner.
Both of them were very noticeably at half-mast as they continued to make out, getting lost in each other. When Cullen began to rub himself against Dorian’s thigh, however, the man startedto ease back. Every kiss was a little softer, a little sweeter, until their lips were just barely touching. Dorian had his forehead pressed to his, and they were both gasping quietly for breath. Every puff of air from Dorian’s mouth tingled when it hit his (probably) kiss-bruised lips, turning the moment even more intimate.
When Cullen finally tipped his head back and opened his eyes, it was to find Dorian gazing at him, pupils blown. “Sorry,” the man murmured, voice husky. “Got a bit carried away. You’re just so absolutely delicious – I couldn’t help myself.”
“I’m not complaining,” Cullen teased back, a slight growl in his own voice. Just to demonstrate the fact, he palmed Dorian’s ass through his jeans again before bringing both hands to rest on the man’s sides. “Maker… that was good Dorian.”
“Mmmm.” Dorian leaned in and lightly nipped his lip before slowly – reluctantly, maybe – pulling away completely. “It was. But not yet Cullen.”
“I know.” And he did – Dorian had been very clear about wanting to get to know each other before being intimate. Cullen wouldn’t have minded regardless, but the man had looked so terribly vulnerable and resigned when he’d asked – asked! – if he minded waiting. He was clearly expecting Cullen to say no; Cullen had the sneaking suspicion that if he had, Dorian would have given him the best sex of his life and then been horribly insecure about the nature of their relationship.
Tracking down and beating all of the man’s former lovers to a pulp was an unreasonable response – or so the legal system (and probably society as a whole) would say. Maker but he wanted to though, because they were all of them asses. He’d settled for turning the reins over to Dorian completely as far as sex was concerned – the other man was making all those rules. They kissed – Andraste’s mercy, but they kissed – and there was, on occasion, a bit of petting involved, but they hadn’t gone any further. Dorian seemed like the cat who’d gotten into the cream every time he put a stop to things and Cullen didn’t complain.
Like now, when he shot a smile Cullen’s way that made him think the cat had gotten a canary too. “I got very lucky when I rescued you, I think. Not as lucky as you are, of course, because I am the perfect specimen, a paragon of virtue, so incredibly attractive one might think my visage crafted lovingly by the Maker himself… I’m sorry, what was I saying?”
“You’re absurd,” Cullen replied mock-sternly before he gave the man a quick kiss. “Wait just a minute and I’ll get you another hoodie. Though if you wanted to start wearing real shirts on our dates you could – you don’t need an excuse, Dorian. I like you in my clothes. I’ll always be willing to let you borrow something.” Again came that look, the one that said he’d managed to surpass Dorian’s every expectation.
If he ever met anyone his guy had slept with before they met, he’d be very hard-pressed not to punch them in the throat.
“Wear one of the ones I brought back,” Dorian insisted as Cullen bent to gather the returned articles of clothing into his arms. “We can get a rotation going so I always have some that smell like you.”
“Yes dear. Feel free to get a drink or a snack while I’m gone. I’ll be just a couple minutes since I have to change now.” Being the mature and elegant man that he was, Dorian answered him by sticking out his tongue. Cullen laughed as he headed for the bedroom and left the door ajar once he was inside. The other man really was like a cat, so he’d probably come this way soon – it was better not to force him to open the door on his own.
It was a cool day, but not cold enough to warrant the long-sleeved henley he was wearing and a sweatshirt. Pulling it over his head, he tossed it carelessly to one side before striding over to his dresser. He picked a t-shirt and random and didn’t give any more thought than that to the hoodie he grabbed from the pile. It ended up being one that zipped, so he tugged it on as he crossed to his closet, but left it open.
There he paused for just a second, wavering. Cullen hadn’t shared this particular hoodie yet for a reason. It was his favorite, and a gift from his family when he was in rehab for (hopefully) the last time. It meant something, and he hadn’t wanted to just give it away and never see it again. But he really liked Dorian, and he was hoping this relationship would stick. And if they were going to swap hoodies back and forth on the regular… yeah. He wanted his guy in his favorite hoodie.
After he snagged it off the hanger and turned toward the door, he wasn’t startled in the slightest to find Dorian watching him with a Cheshire smile. “You certainly are fit, aren’t you?” the man asked breezily as he leaned against the doorjamb. “I didn’t know I’d taken up with a warrior-type.”
“Warrior-type?”
“Mmm. You could play a knight or a mercenary or some such thing in the movies. Ergo, warrior-type.”
“I see.” He didn’t, but that was part of Dorian’s charm. The man looked at the world in a way that was utterly foreign to Cullen, and it was fascinating. “What type are you?” He’d reached the door, but his guy refused to budge, staring down at Cullen with a soft smile on his lips.
“Me? They don’t have a type for me. I’m so glorious that I defy categorization.”
“Your humility is showing again.”
“Well I have to let it out to get some air every now and again. I can wear a different one, if you want.” He added, seemingly at random until he pointed to the hoodie Cullen was cradling in his arms. “I know I’m a bit high-maintenance, but I’d hate for you to feel like you have to let me wear something important to you. A long-sleeved shirt would do just as well if that’s the last sweatshirt you have left.”
Once again, Cullen’s first response to such unprompted sweetness was a kiss. This one stayed light and chaste, because he was very mindful of where they were. He doubted Dorian had forgotten about the bed only a few feet away either. After pulling back, he gave a small shrug, feeling a wry half-smile tug at his lips. “You, high-maintenance? I’d never have known.” Before Dorian could answer – though not before he donned a thoroughly affronted expression – Cullen pressed on. “And it is important to me… but so are you. I wouldn’t let just anyone borrow it, but I know you’ll take care of it. I trust you with it, Dorian.”
Dorian took the hoodie with a stunned expression when Cullen passed it over, and it took him several moments before he unfolded the thing to look it over. Cullen wasn’t sure he’d actually know what the designs meant – he wasn’t from the area, after all. On the front, situated over the heart was the name of Cullen’s favorite football team, the Fereldan Wardens, in a deep blue. Their mascot, a griffon, was emblazoned over most of the back in the same color, looking majestic and proud against the silvery-gray background of the hoodie. ‘Cousland’ was the name above the griffon, and below was the legendary player’s title of ‘Hero’.
The hoodie was one of only three hundred produced through official team channels – he didn’t want to know what his parents had paid to secure the limited-edition item. Cullen had practically lived in it until he was finally let out of rehab – it had been a lifeline, proof to set against the voice that whispered no one could ever really care about him because he was worthless, nothing more than a fuck-up. It had been a reminder that he wasn’t alone, and he would have all the support he could ask for once he returned to the world.
Watching Dorian tug it over his head, Cullen felt strong emotion stirring to life in his chest. He hadn’t been lying earlier – he liked seeing Dorian in clothes that belonged to him. But Dorian in this hoodie? It magnified that enjoyment a hundredfold, and all Cullen could think for a little while was ‘mine’.
“Are you… are you sure you don’t mind?” Dorian’s audible uncertainty broke through his possessive haze; he hated the fragile look he found in those pretty gray eyes once it had. “If it means so much to you-”
“Dorian?” He kept his interruption soft and gentle, reaching up to cup the man’s cheek. “You mean a lot to me too. I care about you – you’re my guy. I want you to wear it. So unless you don’t want to-”
“Oh, I absolutely want to.” Though his tone was one of affected arrogance, Dorian’s expression was full of wonder. “If you’re… if you’re really sure you want someone like me wearing it.”
“I am.” Leaning up, he brushed his lips over the mole that was a delightful accent to Dorian’s right cheek. The gesture seemed to settle the man a little, but Cullen still felt a kernel of anger in his heart. “Never introduce me to anyone you’ve slept with,” he added, not at all surprised at the growl in his voice. “I think I’d end up killing them for making you feel like you don’t deserve to wear it.”
“I’ll introduce you to all of them if you promise to let me watch.” The playful rejoinder didn’t fool Cullen, especially because of the way Dorian’s voice broke a little – he was clearly touched and just as clearly uncomfortable with being emotional.
“We should wait until after you propose to me for punching your father. That way they know I’m a warrior-type and can try to prepare accordingly.” Dorian’s laughter was so much better than him looking so wounded and vulnerable.
“Do you want to come with me to pick out the ring?”
“No, I trust your taste.”
“Well it is impeccable. Once we’re engaged will you let me redecorate your apartment?” They were moving now, arm in arm as they walked to Cullen’s front door.
“No.”
“What happened to trusting my taste?”
“Your taste is both impeccable and expensive. I couldn’t afford you as an interior decorator.”
“And if I financed the endeavor?”
“My neighbors would rob me blind when you were done, so still no. Sorry.” Dorian ‘tsk’ed at the thought, letting go of Cullen’s arm so he could lock his front door behind them. When he turned back to the other man, he caught Dorian stroking the name of the team almost reverently, like he still couldn’t believe he was actually wearing it. As soon as he knew Cullen was looking, he stopped and dropped his hand, blushing lightly.
“Now. Where are you taking me this fine afternoon?” Grinning, Cullen found Dorian’s hand with his own and held on – they were almost always touching in some way whenever they were out in public. Dorian thrived when he could see and hear Cullen acknowledging their relationship around other people, and Cullen liked having that level of connection just as much.
“You’re going to love it. Maybe. Or you might hate it. I’m glad you wore sneakers.”
“Well you did tell me to. I listen, you know.” At Cullen’s skeptical look, he gave a sly smile. “Well, sometimes. Usually only when it’s something I’d have done anyway. But I do listen to you. I… you’re… I care about you too, Cullen.” Dorian squeezed his fingers as he spoke, reaffirming the message before he cleared his throat. “I must insist you tell me where we’re going.”
“It’s a bit outside the city.”
“Lots of things are outside the city, Cullen. Narrow it down, if you please.”
“We’ll be outside most of the day.”
“Thank the Maker you provided a hoodie then.”
“Especially since there will probably be children there. Will you please stop dressing like we’re going to a club? You know I think you’re sexy, and I’ll let you borrow my clothes regardless.”
“Children? Why will there be children? And I suppose I could think about making a slight adjustment in the way I dress.”
“If we go to a club, feel free to wear the sheerest shirt you own. Or If we’re staying in I wouldn’t mind either. You could wear those criminal leather pants of yours too.”
“Now you’re just trying to distract me. Where am I driving us, Cullen?”
“Have you ever played miniature golf?”
~.~.~
“This is fucking ridiculous.”
“Dorian! There are little ears-”
“I don’t care. If they knew how to curse they would do it too. I am providing them the vocabulary with which they can vent their frustrations.”
“If you hate it so much, we can leave.”
“You’re just upset that I’m beating the pants off you, that’s why you want to go. No no – this is a delightful game. Except for this fucking hole.”
“There are so many jokes to make. I don’t know where to start.”
“Do shut up Cullen. I am trying to focus.”
“Yes dear.”
When Dorian finally managed to get his ball both up the ramp and through the chomping jaws of a mechanical Darkspawn, the small crowd they’d gathered went wild. It was, Cullen thought with both disbelief and affection for the man in question, as if the Warden’s had just won a close game. The three children (whose presence had finally curbed Dorian’s tongue) were cheering and jumping up and down. The adults were laughing and congratulating him, offering him claps on the shoulder and back.
And after the man had thoroughly gloried in all the attention, he turned back to Cullen. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Dorian smiling so hard. The man didn’t seem to care that it was starting to get colder, or that the wind had hopelessly mussed his usually perfect hair, or that his once pristine white sneakers were covered in mud and grass stains. He looked happy, in a totally care-free, innocent way. When he threw himself at Cullen, he skillfully evaded getting brained by the man’s club, dropped his own and caught Dorian around the waist. Lifting the taller man with ease, Cullen spun him around in a circle which made Dorian laugh, loud and unrestrained. When he put the man down, he couldn’t help but frame his face with both hands and lean up to kiss him soundly.
Dorian made a sound of surprise and pleasure before covering Cullen’s hands with his own. They parted and he met sparkling gray eyes, and Cullen had a moment of breathless realization – he was going to fall in love with this man. He wasn’t there, not quite yet, but he didn’t have much further to fall either.
He was definitely going to fall in love with Dorian Pavus. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. The man was beautiful and fascinating, and so perfectly imperfect that it made him ache.
“Still beating you,” Dorian teased, squeezing his hands before pulling away. “Twelve stroke penalty on this hole and you will still owe me your pants after this, Rutherford.”
With that, he was off to fetch his golf ball, leaving Cullen to stare after him. Yeah… he was going to fall hard. He hoped Dorian wouldn’t mind when it happened.
~.~.~
Miniature golf was a resounding success. Dorian beat him by an embarrassing amount and was adorably smug about it. The cheap ice cream they grabbed on a whim at the course wasn’t received quite as well, however. Thankfully Cullen was able to make up for that with the diner they went to after for dinner. It was a little hole in the wall, with food that far outstripped its appearance.
The car ride home was full of laughter, singing, and terrible seat-dancing. On the whole, it was such an amazing date that he didn’t even mind when Dorian said it would be a little while before they’d be able to see each other again. This and phone calls would be enough to sustain him until Dorian’s schedule cleared a bit. When they reached Cullen’s apartment building, they kissed goodbye and he watched until the car faded from view. The guy he was falling for had driven away wearing the hoodie that meant the world to him, and it had felt right.
For the first time in a long time, the urge to drink was so distant that Cullen could forget it for a small window of time. The whisper that constantly pointed out his flaws and how alcohol could solve all his problems was so quiet he almost couldn’t hear it. It had been such a good day, the best even, and for once Cullen could hardly wait to see what the future would bring.