Chapter Text
“Kadan.”
It was a simple, familiar word, yet it almost made The Iron Bull freeze completely in his track in complete bewilderment coming from Isarah’s mouth. A fraction of a second was all that was needed for his training to kick in, reminding him to keep his cool. Don't panic, stay rational.
Still, his heart beated a bit faster.
“What does that word mean?” Isarah clarified. He had Bull’s complete attention without even knowing it, wielding the tentativeness of the situation with the tip of his pinky finger.
Bull looked over to Isarah, intending to analyze any clues the elf left out blindly on his pretty face. Just for good measure, he pretended to shift around to get comfortable on his chair. Being stealthy is hard when you only have one eye to look with. He wanted to make sure if Isarah had any idea what he was asking of Bull.
Isarah sat beside him, one leg lying across his seat with the other bent high. The elf supported himself with one arm leaning against the chair’s support whilst the other arm rested on the bent leg, holding a mug of alcohol in his hand. Krem liked to ask Isarah often why he even bothered sitting in a chair at all if he was going to cramp himself into such a little space. He looked completely oblivious.
“Depends,” Bull started, controlled, calm, poised. “Where’d you hear it from?” he asked, approaching Isarah’s question with his own.
“Does it matter?” Isarah asked, turning from the chaos that was Krem drunkenly trying to lift Rocky up in a test of strength. Skinner, Dalish, and Stitches were half cheering him on, and half teasing Rocky for being so complaint while Grim watched with a smile on his face. It didn’t help that Rocky was so wasted he didn’t know what was his right from his left, meaning that the hardy dwarf had consumed a lot of alcohol... Everyone else was also pretty much on the same boat and wasted, which was an average night at the tavern.
“We can either keep asking questions and get nowhere, or maybe you can answer mines first?” It was more of a statement than a question, but it made Isarah smile a bit.
“I don’t know, should I?” Isarah asked, freeing a hand from his drink to hold his chin in mock consideration. This was really going nowhere. Bull didn’t usually care where these silly conversation led, as long as he was in one with the elf he was content. But this time, Bull really wanted to get answers.
The qunari knew he never used it to address anyone before- not ever, not to anyone, not even to his Chargers. Not even to Isarah.
At least he was sure he hand’t.
There were definitely no other persons in skyhold who spoke Qunlat either. He made extra sure of that with Josey and Nightingale. So how was it that Isarah knew how to pronounce the Qunlat term for, “My heart”?
“Fine. Do you remember the first time we killed a dragon together?” Isarah questioned. Bull was tempted to keep their little question gimmick going just to annoy him. “We were drinking that horrible sludge you gave me-.”
“Maraas-Lok,” the qunari grinned in fondness of the horrible drink. He should invite Isarah to drink some more sometime soon. Their usual crew haven’t been too focused on dragon hunting as of late, but there was no real good excuse for ditching a good, throat burning drinking session. “Speaking of which we should order some more real soon, tankard running low.”
“No, it’s disgusting,” Isarah said, sticking his tongue out in disgust as he made a face. So many uses for that tongue, and it was being thrown at him in ridicule of one of his favorite drinks. At least he knew the elf didn’t really mean it. Even if he did, he’d still try to get them to drink it anyway.
“Great! I’ll tell Josey to arrange a cargo!” Bull went on, a sly smile playing at his scarred lips. Isarah rolled his eyes.
“Anyway…,” the elf continued. “We were… drinking. I think we were just finishing talking about your obsession with dragons.” That did sound familiar. But when was he not talking about dragons? Every time he saw one flying over their heads, above the tree canopies or just beyond the horizon- the qunari would whoop and holler as if he just won some sort of odd contest with fate.
“You told me I had a great ass,” Isarah stated matter of fact. His eyes looked away for a brief second, betraying the placid tone he held so well. It was true though, the elf did have a great ass.
“Then, you called me Kadan”
Bull was just in the midst of wanted nothing more than to lift his face up by his chin and make him look directly in the eyes when it finally hit him.
He let it slip. Vashedan! How did he let that slip?
The qunari soon recalled the vast amount of empty cups that used to contain the sludge Bull called Maraas-Lok they had drank that night before. The Iron Bull was a lusty drinker, and was able to down several mugs of alcohol at a time against drinkers that could hold their own. But he really let himself go that time. Probably because he cut back on the stuff for so long his body almost forgot how to take it down like he used to. It was hard to find good qunari drinks without his old connections. His drinking career now rested on asking Josephine real nicely if she could arrange a supply for him. Every time she made him promise not to go challenging the nobles to a drink off for at least weeks at a time. Not his fault that those dainty little pricks couldn't handle a pint.
The qunari nodded slowly as if he attained some sort of sagely knowledge. “Sometimes Qunlat has double meaning, depending on how you use it and the situation,” Bull explained. It wasn’t a total lie. “I’m sure Elvhen got something like that too, right?”
The elf raised an eyebrow and completely ignored Bull’s question. “So does that mean Kadan is someone with a great ass?” Bull almost snorted out his alcohol.
The Qunari let out a big laugh before shaking his head in amusement before clarifying. “It means friend,” he said lying through his teeth. Isarah didn’t need to know the full meaning. It was best he didn’t. Especially in the context Bull used it in.
“Friend, hm? Do friend’s also bump each other during the middle of the night?” The elf was more than entertained.
“Hey, bump is too soft a word. Try hump. Or maybe bang? Or-” Fuck. Fuck was a good word. Bull could go on. He loved getting the elf flustered. The qunari would gladly do it all the time ( both the fucking and the flustering ) if he had the chance, accompanied with the most wicked smile on his face.
“Okay, okay! You’ve made your point,” Isarah said, his free hand slapping Bull’s left arm as a sign to stop. The smaller of the two was more than embarrassed, his face burned dark with it. He tried his hardest to look mad, but he couldn’t contain the small giddy laughter that bubbled inside of him. Both of them knew Isarah liked what Bull did to him: made him flustered, made him blush, made him lose his fucking mind. And if it was all too much… well they both knew the word for that.
“I suppose it’s an upgrade,” mused Lavellan. “At least you don’t always call me Boss.” Bull gazed at the elf for a long time, his marred mouth lingering in a smile as before, just a bit more gentle.
Maybe this was okay.
Maybe it was okay to pretend for a while, he thought to himself. No one will know. And if anyone could keep a secret, it was The Iron Bull himself.
“Ma Vhenan,” Isarah said while looking at him, only loud enough for the two of them to hear. It was like a secret code.
“What’s that?” Bull asked, hips lips already touching the mouth of his mug, useful for hiding a grin he could not contain.
“It means… friend,” Isarah said before smiling at Bull nervously. His eyes strayed back to the chargers for the lack of anywhere else to look at. Now that was strange. Why would he look away? Bull gazed at him curiously. The elf was definitely hiding something.
Usually Isarah was not afraid to challenge him with a strong stare unlike most people here at skyhold. Even if often they were more… sexual, than actually challenging. But right now, it seemed like he was some shy colt. Bull was pretty sure that the elf and him were at a stage in this relationship where they were past being shy. So what gives?
He was probably saying the most daring shit, that little cheeky elf. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with a secret.