Chapter Text
“Now that,” Varric said in amazement, “is a dramatic death.” He and Cassandra watched as the dragon they had been fighting let loose one last plume of fire before spiraling down to the ground in what could only be described as an elegant heap.
“Did you see that?” the Iron Bull roared, holding his axe above his head. “That was the most impressive shit I’ve ever seen! Boss, this is the best day ever!”
Rolfe sheathed his daggers and wiped his brow with the back of his forearm. “And to think, it isn’t even your birthday,” he quipped.
Cassandra frowned. Usually when they fought something as big as the dragon they had just defeated, Rolfe was just as enthusiastic about it as Bull. “Are you all right?” she asked, coming up to his side. Once she got closer, she saw that he was pale and clammy looking. “Are you hurt?”
Rolfe turned his head and tried to give her a reassuring smile, but he coughed, his hand coming away from his mouth bloody. “It’s just a scratch,” he told her, his leg bucking under him.
Cassandra dove for him, catching him before he fell. “You’re bleeding,” Cassandra said, trying to keep panic out of her voice when she pressed her hand to his chest to steady him and blood began to well up between her fingers. “And badly.”
Rolfe dragged his hand across his chest and stared dumbly at the bright red on his fingers. “Oh shit, will you look at that?” Cassandra guessed that he would have had something else to say, but his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed, his body becoming dead weight in her arms.
When Rolfe came to, he was inside of a tent that he didn’t remember entering and Cassandra was straddling his lap. “Hey now,” he mumbled, hands groggily reaching for her. “You didn’t even buy me dinner.”
“Stop that.” She batted his hands away and went back to work on undoing the many buckles and laces in his armor.
“Says the woman sitting in my lap,” he slurred.
That earned an exasperated huff from her as she sat back on her heels. “This tent is too small and I need to get you out of this.”
Rolfe’s lips quirked up into a weak grin. “If you wanted to see me naked so badly, all you had to do was ask.”
Cassandra rolled her eyes as she lifted the front portion of his leather cuirass away from his body. “You are the only man I know who can flirt while being heavily wounded and suffering from blood loss.”
Rolfe tried to help her take the rest of his gear off, but groaned in pain. “If I ain’t flirtin’, I ain’t breathin’.”
“Then I guess I should be thankful for small favors.”
“Aww, I knew you cared for me, Seeker.”
Cassandra uncorked a healing potion and pressed it to his lips. “Do not call me that, Herald.”
“Then don’t call me that,” he countered, lifting his head as she pressed another potion bottle to his lips.
“Fine.”
“Fine, what?”
Another sigh. “Fine…Rolfe.”
He gave a triumphant smirk. “See, now was that so hard, Cassandra?”
Her eyes softened and she absently brushed hair out of his eyes. “No, it wasn’t.” Clearing her throat, she wet a rag and gingerly began cleaning the blood off his chest so she could see what sort of damage remained that the potions hadn’t gotten around to healing. “You’re lucky that you didn’t get killed fighting that thing the way you did.”
Rolfe winced when she hit a tender spot. “Wasn’t worried. You had my back.”
“If I truly did, then you wouldn’t be in this condition. You were careless.”
“Aww, did you worry about me?”
Her frown deepened. “If you die, we will not be able to close the rifts still left, not to mention closing the Breach itself.” She rummaged in the pack next to her and pulled out bandages and a pot of healing paste. She scooped out a generous amount and Rolfe was certain that she would slap it onto the injuries he still had, but she was surprisingly gentle. “There is so much riding on you. Please be careful next time.”
“I’ll try my best.” He reached out and circled her wrist with his fingers, pressing her palm to his chest. “I think that paste is worked in well enough,” he teased as he felt her fingers freeze from where they had been absently stroking his skin.
Cassandra blushed and yanked her hand away from his grip. “It doesn’t look like you need bandaging. Take another potion and get some rest.” She made a move to swing her leg over him and leave, but he caught her, his hand warm at her waist.
“Don’t leave.” He looked up at her and Cassandra felt her heart dip somewhere down to her stomach and then back up towards her throat. “I saw the hit you took earlier on; you need looking after too.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, softening her words as she moved to kneel at his side instead of above him. “Thank you for your concern.”
They were quiet, both of them staring the other down and something that neither of them could properly describe crackling between them. Then Rolfe broke the silence by giving her one of his trademark smirks. “I’m not the only one that needs to rest; there is room in here for two, you know. It might be a little close quarters, but I think we could manage.” He pat the small space between them invitingly.
Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Drink your potion and get some sleep,” she commanded. Even though her words were firm, there was humor evident in his voice.
“Won’t you kiss me goodnight then? I don’t know how I’d manage otherwise.”
She backed out of his tent. “Good night, Rolfe.”
Rolfe chuckled as the canvas flaps snapped shut behind her retreat. Alone, he allowed himself the luxury of making the pained face he had been aching to do since he woke up. Biting back a groan, he used his teeth to pull off the cork of a potion vial and drank it down in one go. Gingerly flopping back onto his bedroll, he gave a toothy grin up at the ceiling.
She said my name. “Good night, Cassandra.”