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Elba walked away from the campfire, retreating to the dark edges of the camp where his mount was tethered. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone. He was in the middle of nowhere with no one but his sister and a Shem for company, and it was more than he could bare. How many times would his world crumble around him? How many times would he be forced away from all he loved.
He would not lose Branwen again, of that much he was sure. Not even if it meant traveling with a Tevinter Magister.
He’d met Dorian before, all those years ago, when Branwen was still Inquisitor. If he were honest with himself, he might remember the butterflies that he’d felt with the Shem had walked into the room. He might recall the devastation he’d felt when Branwen had told him that Dorian was with that Qunari - the Bull or whatever he was called. None of it mattered now. Not after all this time. He’d assured Branwen as much. There were no lingering feelings in Elba at all.
The look she had given him said she didn’t buy it. Which was, of course, absurd. He absolutely meant what he’d said. There were no lingering feelings there, and Branwen should mind her own damn business.
Which is why he hadn’t sat anywhere near Dorian at camp. And why he set up his tent as far from Dorian as possible. And why he’d stalked off alone, in the dark, to the very outskirts of camp. Would a man so over Dorian give Dorian so much space?
But Dorian was making it difficult, which was driving him mad. When Elba had sat on the other side of the fire from him, Dorian’s eyes kept glancing to where he’d sat. When he’d made up his tent, Dorian had offered to help. And when he’d left to care for his mount, Dorian had followed.
Elba seathed. He’d been through too much, was hurting too much for this to be the thing on his mind. He wasn’t looking for anything. He just wanted Dorian to leave him alone. He turned only long enough to watch Dorian approach before he returned to brushing his mount. “What?” He spat.
“The last we spoke, well, I thought you were Solas’s man through and through. You said… well, we both remember what you said. But now you’re here. What changed?”
“My sister is here,” he said, coldly. “She’s the only family I have left.” He gritted his teeth, resolved to stay calm, to not betray his feelings - not about his heart, and definitely not about Solas. Dorian was many things, but a graceful winner he was not. Elba did not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was right on that front.
But Dorian would press the issue, anyway. “But you believe us, now, don’t you? About Solas I mean? You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Elba continued brushing his mount, but in his anger brushed a little harder than he meant to. The hart gave a loud shriek. His true feelings betrayed, he chucked the brush into the trees and spun on Dorian. “You were right!” he yelled, “You were right about everything. Happy? You were right! So go ahead! Gloat! Rub it in and get it over with!”
Dorian’s brows furrowed, and there was genuine pain in his eyes. “I’m not here to gloat.”.
“Then why are you here?”
“Branwen sent me,” he said, “she wanted me to make sure you were ok.”
Elba scoffed. “Why would she send you?”
“Because she knows me all too well,” he said, “I think she knew I wanted an excuse to talk to you.”
Elba didn’t pry further. Dorian’s statement was loaded, and he worried where it might lead. “Well,” He scowled, “I’m fine.”
“Clearly,” Dorian said. “Because fits of rage are usually the best way to prove to the world that you’re fine. ‘I’ll yell at the person asking me how I am. Then he’ll have no doubts at all that I’m as happy as a lark!’”
“What do you want, Dorian?” he said, glaring at the pompous windbag of a man before him. “What do you really want?”
An awkward silence lingered between them. The only sound was the rustling of his mount, the distant chatter round the fire, and the humming of cicadas. At last, Dorian gave his answer. It was straightforward in a way that Dorian so seldom was.
“There is something I want,” he said, “And it’s selfish of me. What you’ve been through… the choices you’ve had to make. I don’t pretend to understand them, or the pain they’ve caused you. But, I like you. More than I should. More than might be wise. I don’t expect anything. But I’m a bit of a fool, and I’ve begun to hope that this might go somewhere. What I want is to know where this is going - this thing between us. We end it here, I walk away. I won’t be pleased, but I’d rather now than later. Later might be dangerous.”
It wasn’t really what Elba had been expecting. His mind was completely blank. He sputtered out the word “Dangerous?” not meaning at all to ask for clarification. He’d just said it, repeating it back, questioning not Dorian’s meaning, but the very fact that he had said anything at all.
Still, Dorian answered him. “Walking away might be harder then.”
He watched as Dorian closed the gap between them. He slipped a hand to the back of Elba’s neck and pulled him closer, pressing their lips together. He only lingered a moment before Elba pulled away, eyes wide.
Dorian looked concerned. “I’ve overstepped, haven’t I? I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”
Elba’s mind was still blank.
“This is Branwen’s fault, you know,” Dorian said with a hollow laugh. “She was all but convinced you liked me.”
“I-”
“It’s no matter, Elba,” said Dorian, holding up his hands. “I can certainly take the hint. This is me, walking away.” He stepped backwards, edging back towards the camp. When he turned his head was hung low, his shoulders tense.
Elba watched, lost. All these years, he’d thought of Dorian, and now, there he was with Dorian right in front of him, and he blew it. “Wait!” he called.
Dorian turned back to him, a question on his brow.
Elba was still gobsmacked. His words tumbled out of him in a tangled mess. At best, he managed, “I was just surprised, that’s all.”
Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
He looked back and forth between Dorian, his feet, and some speck of nothingness off in the middle distance, hoping that in the time his brain reeled, he might come up with a reason for why what just happened happened, or, better, a decent response to all of it. “You like me?” he asked.
Dorian outright chuckled. “I thought that much was obvious.”
Elba shook his head. “Then what the fuck am I doing?” He sprinted towards Dorian and grabbed his face with a smack, Dorian’s cheeks sandwiched between his palms. He kissed him in what might have been the sloppiest kiss he’d ever managed. He’d probably look back and be embarrassed, but he was too happy to care.
Dorian broke free this time, laughing too hard to sustain contact. “You had me going there a moment,” he said.
“Can you blame me?” said Elba, “Here I was, thinking there wasn’t a hope in the Void for the two of us, and here you go kissing me. You can’t just do that with no warning.”
“But I absolutely can,” he said, “I just did.”
“I guess I can’t argue.”
Dorian traced the line of Elba’s mouth with his thumb. “So, what exactly does this mean for us?”
“I think it means I like danger,” said Elba, his voice low.
Dorian laughed. “Then you shall have it, Amatus.”
Elba meant to ask what that meant, but he never got the chance. Dorian’s lips were on his again, warm and inviting and everything he had ever hoped.