Work Text:
Lavellan lay beside Dorian, their limbs tangled together, basking in the afterglow. Dorian reached up and stroked the Inquisitor's cheek, his eyes hooded and a gentle smile curling his lips. "I love you," Dorian murmured. Lavellan's eyes widened and he shot into a sitting position.
"Y-you- what?" he said, stuttering, his long hair falling into his face. Dorian turned red.
"Nothing," he snapped, getting out of bed and pulling on his clothes.
"Dorian, wait," Lavellan said quickly, reaching out to him, but Dorian shook his hand off and rushed out.
When Lavellan came down from his quarters a little later, having cleaned himself off, Varric was sitting in wait. The Inquisitor went to look for Dorian in his library in the tower, Varric shook his head. "Sparkler's not up there."
Lavellan turned to Varric. "Where is he? Did he say anything?"
Varric raised an eyebrow. "After his walk of shame, the kid went to the tavern. He looked really upset. Sparkler's a drama queen, but he looked like he was gonna break something." Lavellan felt a strong pang of guilt. Dorian and the tavern went far too well together, and usually ended in smashed bottles and a visit to the healers. Since they'd been- together, Dorian had been trying to drink a little less. He said he hadn't wanted to forget anymore. "You can't stop him, not now, but you can make sure he doesn't get hurt," Varric said, reading the worry on Lavellan's face.
"Too late," Lavellan replied and hurried out of the main hall. It was dark out, the only lights the stars, the moon, and the warm glow spilling from the tavern doors. As he approached, stragglers from the raucous gathering inside greeted him; despite the dark, his long white-blonde hair made him instantly recognizable. Lavellan slipped inside and scanned the room, hoping he'd come in time to stop Dorian before he gave himself alcohol poisoning. No such luck. He was at the bar, head down, drowning himself in tumbler of dark liquor.
Lavellan approached, ducking through the collectively very drunk crowd. Dorian turned when he heard Lavellan, looking up before narrowing his eyes and returning to his drink. "I don't want to talk to you," he slurred, taking another gulp of whatever was in his glass. Lavellan could smell it from half a foot away.
"Dorian, please," Lavellan said. "I'm sorry, please come back to my quarters." Dorian gripped the glass he was holding till his knucles went white, and Lavellan ducked, the glass smashing against the pole a few feet away. "Please," he repeated. By now the whole bar was watching them in near silence. Even the bard had stopped playing.
"Why do you care if I drink?" Dorian spat. "You don't care about me! You never did! You're just using me!" His voice got progressively louder as he spoke.
"Creators, Dorian! That's not true!" Lavellan replied. Dorian spun around, grabbed a glass off a nearby table, smashed that one too, and stormed out, somehow keeping his balance despite the amount of alcohol in his system. Lavellan followed, muttering a few 'sorry's as they left.
The next morning, Dorian woke to a headache. He covered his face with his hands and groaned. Someone pulled one of his hands away and wrapped it around a cool glass of water. He drained the glass and felt well enough, afterwards, to open his eyes. The sight of the Inquisitor's face reminded him of their fight the night before, and Dorian felt nauseous again. He'd bared his heart and the Inquisitor may as well have told him that he was just using Dorian for sex. Just like every other man, and yet Dorian had been foolish enough to think- "I love you," the Inquisitor said. Dorian blinked. "I'm sorry, I should have said it last night, but Creators, Dorian, I didn't know that this was- that we are- I didn't realize, and then you left, and I'm sorry. Because I do love you, and I didn't want you to think I don't."
Dorian laughed and pulled the Inquisitor in for a kiss. "I thought... that you didn't want me, after."
At that, the Inquisitor began covering Dorian's face in kisses. "Always, always, I always want you," he said between kisses. "I love you," he added, whispering it the way some particularly devout Sisters might pray. Dorian smiled.