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“W-what are you doing?” Dorian tried to keep his voice low, but he still found that his question was a bit squeakier than he would have liked.
“What’s it look like?” The Iron Bull retorted, now upending the metal trash bin he had found, dumping all the contents across the lawn.
“Making a mess,” Dorian replied. He felt unsteady on his feet, and took a few steps back to lean against the wall. Maker damn it all, he was going to have to suffer through a hangover in the morning if he was already this out of it.
“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault we got locked out, now is it?”
“Well, it’s not my fault Grimm sleeps like a rock.”
The Iron Bull just snorted, and then carried the now-empty trash bin to the back door of the house the Chargers all shared.
“Bull…Amatus…Can’t we just wait for Krem to come back from the club with the others?” Dorian asked helplessly. “I’m sure one of them remembered their keys.”
“You’d freeze your ass off.” And with that, he slammed the bin against the padlock on the fence.
Dorian winced at the resulting clang. “Yes, but don’t you think it’d cause less property damage?”
“It’s our place. Even if I fuck this up, I can take care of the repairs.”
He turned his gaze skywards with an overly dramatic sigh. “You just love smashing things for no reason. You need to join a wrestling club or something similar.”
“So you keep saying.” The Iron Bull slammed the trash bin down on the padlock, laughing a bit when the body of the lock finally hit the ground.
“I keep mentioning it so that you have a better outlet for your desire to fight everyone that crosses your pa-agh!” Dorian flailed a little as his boyfriend swept him up into his arms bridal style. “Oh, Maker! Put me down! I can walk on my own! I’m not that drunk!”
“I know. But I’m eager to get you down to my room.”
Dorian felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment. “You’re impossible.”
“I love you, too,” The Iron Bull replied with a smug grin, and pushed his way past the open gate.