Chapter Text
It had become oddly normal for Cullen to come home and find people in his apartment. Most of their friends. It was difficult to track down when it all started. He'd been the first to move into the apartment building - well, him, Josephine, and Malika. Back then it had just been the most affordable three bedroom apartment they could find. When factoring transport. Nothing was actually that affordable. Then the apartment next to theirs had opened up and Leliana had taken it, and Sera had moved in downstairs, and one by one they'd kind of... taken over. It was Sera who'd figured out that there maybe wasn't as much difference between the keys to the different apartments as there should be. She'd been delighted. Honestly, they could take it up with the owner, but that seemed like a lot of effort. The only person he'd actually worry about was the one who'd figured it out, and he knew she'd never do anything too harmful, she just-
Was leaning casually against the kitchen bench, in front of the drawers, when he walked in. Which explained the slamming noise that had echoed down the hall when he'd opened the front door.
He narrowed his eyes, glaring for a moment as he dropped his keys in their dish, before giving up and sighing. "You licked all the spoons again, didn't you."
"Fuck," Sera said, with feeling, moving away from the drawers. "I'll get you again at some point."
He rolled his eyes and opened the top drawer, intent on moving all the spoons back to the dishwasher, only to step back with a noise he would very much like to say was not a yelp at the sight of a very large, very hairy, and he realised almost immediately very rubber, spider. Sera, perching herself on one of their spindly dining chairs, let out a gleeful cackle.
Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll bet you still licked the spoons too. Is anyone else even home?"
"No," she said, unconcerned, watching him place the rubber spider on the bench. "Mal text before, she's on her way. She said she wanted to meet me here to get ready."
"Ready?" Cullen paused, halfway to the dishwasher with a handful of cutlery "Ready for what?"
"We're going out tonight."
"We?"
He's answered, almost immediately, by the door banging enthusiastically open, and Dorian sauntering into the kitchen. "Is anyone else here yet?" he announced to the room in general. "I want to start pre-gaming."
"It's 4pm," Cullen answered.
"Perfect timing," Dorian said, "I'm guessing the answer to my first question is no."
Sera threw a grape at him. "Hey."
"You're always here," Dorian answered. "I don't need to ask." He smiled, the same kind of effortless charming he always was. Cullen sighed, and did his best to ignore it. It didn't need acknowledging. It wasn't anything new.
"Right. I actually have a thing I have to work on tonight, so-"
"Bo-ring," sang Sera, at the same time as Dorian, rolling his eyes, said, "You are not leaving us alone to go work on your degree."
"It's a doctorate, actually," Cullen said, painfully aware of how doubtful he sounded. It was hard enough defending the whole, 'I quit my steady job at the police station to take the time to do a fucking doctorate' to himself, let alone anyone else.
Dorian scoffed. "It's not a proper assignment unless you're doing it hungover after a night out."
"I think I've outgrown that part of studying," Cullen said.
"At least entertain me until your roommates get back," Dorian said, arching an eyebrow at Cullen. Who already could tell he was going to say yes. "I'll make myself a drink, so I'm happy, we can play chess, so you can feel like you're not wasting time."
Sera groaned, and pulled out her phone.
Cullen fought with himself for a moment. "Only until Mal gets home."
Dorian opened the cupboard that had been designated the liquor cabinet, the triumphant smile on his face disappearing behind the door.
By the time the front door slammed open next, Dorian was on his second scotch and soda, and he and Cullen were halfway through their game. It was always just a hair easier to deal with Dorian when there was a chessboard in between them. He'd been watching while Cullen poured over the board - he was trying a new strategy and he couldn't tell yet if it was working or if Dorian could still box him in - and he didn't look up when a figure swept into Cullen's room to regard them. Living with Malika Cadash, Cullen had said multiple times since they'd all moved in, was something of an experience.
"What's this," she said, incredibly regally for someone who barely hit five feet, "I hear about you babying out on us tonight."
"I don't know what tonight is," Cullen protested. "You never said anything about doing anything."
Dorian kicked him lightly through the legs of the stool they were using as a chess table. "Make your move."
"That is a bald faced lie," Mal said, "Last night, I asked if you were doing anything tonight, and you said you weren't. So I said, 'We should,' and you said, 'okay,' and I was texting people today and it all got decided. We're going clubbing."
Cullen made a quick, and probably terrible, decision and shifted a pawn forward. "I don't even have anything to wear clubbing." As a protest, he knew it wasn't going to work, but he thought he'd better at least give it a go.
"I can dress you," Dorian offered, plucking a knight delicately off the board to shift it. He met Cullen's answering glare with a chuckle. "Or, how about, if I win, you go. I can definitely make you presentable, if that really worries you. If you win, we'll leave you alone." He took a sip of his drink.
Mal considered it for a moment. "I'll support that"
Cullen stared at the board, fingers hovering over his queen. He thought the gambit was working. Dorian had left his foot resting against Cullen's calf after he'd kicked him. "Deal."
Somehow, he wasn't actually surprised when he regretted saying that not even ten minutes later. Malika pressed a glass of... something. He wasn't entirely sure into his hand, stood on her tiptoes, and hauled down on his shoulder so she could kiss his cheek. "I'm glad this all worked out," she said.
"I could sober drive," he offered half heartedly, studying the drink in his hand.
"No," Sera called from Mal's room. "I miss drunk Cullen."
"Everybody misses drunk Cullen," Mal called back. She patted him on the back, in a way that could almost have been called sympathetic if she hadn't looked so gleeful as she did it. "We're calling a fucking uber, like normal people."
It hit six and Josephine got home - apparently Mal had just asked her if she wanted to go out that morning rather than getting no choice like Cullen did. Cullen was almost finished his first drink, and Dorian was barely halfway through inspecting Cullen's wardrobe. Leliana had dropped in briefly, but retreated to her own apartment, without clearly stating either way if she was going to get ready or just going. Cole had arrived too - at some point. Cullen wasn't sure when. He hadn't heard the door, he'd just gone to dump his glass in the sink and there Cole was, sitting at the kitchen table, dealing cards to Sera. He'd pointed at the glass in Cullen's hand, and said, "Mal wants you to make yourself another."
"She probably does," Cullen agreed.
And then Josephine had opened the door, and called out that she'd brought home curry, and everyone came sweeping into the kitchen. Which meant Cullen lost the opportunity to discretely dump his glass, but also meant that they were no longer drinking on empty stomachs. Which was always the way around Cullen preferred it. He became aware, swiping his last bit of naan around his plate, that Dorian and Mal were having a hushed conversation that involved a few too many glances towards him. He narrowed his eyes in their direction, and Dorian grinned back at him.
"Stop being so suspicious, we're talking about what I'm going to dress you in tonight."
"You don't need to dress me," Cullen said.
"Yes, he does. That was the deal." Mal leveled her fork towards him. "No backing out."
"Everything in your wardrobe is so casual," Dorian sighed. "I was just checking my plan through with Mal, making sure she approved."
"Since when do you need Mal's approval about clothes," Cullen asked, apprehension growing three sizes.
Dorian smiled serenely. "You'll see." Then he stood up, leaving his plate on the table, and tugged Cullen out of his chair. "Come on. We should all get pretty before we drink much more." An agreeing grumble seemed to echo around the table, and Cullen found himself escorted firmly towards his bedroom. He'd half expected to find clothes all over his bed; it was very nearly a pleasant surprise to see only a small, neatly folded pile. Only nearly, because he'd seen what Dorian wore on a regular basis, and he wasn't at all convinced he'd be very comfortable. Dorian smiled, hand lingering at the small of his back. Which wasn't distracting at all.
"Go shower," he said, "and put that on. I'll be back for finishing touches."
The pile of clothes turned out to be a pair of relatively normal jeans, and a tank top that Cullen hardly wore because it was far too loose. He blinked down at himself. It definitely did not seem nice enough to go clubbing in. Or warm enough, even if it was early enough in Autumn that the nights hadn't yet gotten to the point where they were chilly. Still. He frowned, exiting the bathroom, and walking towards his room.
"Dorian," he called, "I'm assuming I wear another shirt over this."
There was a muffled sound from Mal's room, and Dorian's voice floated out saying, "Of course not, one moment." Cullen stopped, shifting the direction of his frown to Mal's door, and after a few moments Dorian came striding out - apparently having changed himself in the meantime -rubbing his hands together. Which didn't make sense until he got close enough, and then ran his hands gently and thoroughly over Cullen's chest and upper arms, slipping easily under the straps of his tank top.
Cullen blinked, every muscle in his body going tense for a moment. He was already blushing, it was going to go all the way down his chest and everyone would be able to see it because of the damn stretched to hell tank top Dorian was making him wear and- Dorian looked thrilled. Cullen looked down, and very slowly looked back up. "Is that body glitter?"
Dorian beamed at him. "No one's going to give a damn about your shirt."
"Cullen, we'll match," Mal cried as she came tearing out of her room, and sure enough her slinky black halter top exposed the same gold shimmer spread across her shoulders.
Cullen, very heroically, managed to hold back a sigh.
"Don't look so pained," Dorian said, clearly barely containing laughter. "Trust us, you look wonderful. Now come on, I need to do your hair."
An hour and a half later Cullen's shoulders were hunched together in the uber, crammed in the back seat with Mal, Sera, and Cole. Dorian was sitting in the front, chatting amiably with the driver. Mal sighed, leaning her head on Cullen’s shoulder, and he glanced down.
“You’re going to get body glitter in your hair,” he said.
He could see her cheek curve with her smile. "It'll look awesome."
"Who else is coming tonight?" he asked, shifting his arm so it was wrapped around her instead of trapped against his side.
"Josephine went to Leliana's apartment to make sure she came," Mal said.
"Shall we take bet on whether than means they'll show up, or if she was making sure she came in a different sense?" Dorian called from the front. Sera sniggered.
"Bull's meeting us there right?" Mal asked, and Dorian twisted to face them, nodding.
"He said he would. Did you manage to convince Varric?"
"Nah, he wanted to go to a pub," Mal said, sounding very much like she was rolling her eyes. "And then he got a call from Cassandra, I didn't even need to ask."
"Where are we even going?" Cullen asked, because somehow the importance of finding that out had gotten lost in; a) fighting back the blush from Dorian basically groping him with body glitter, b) that being followed up by Dorian spending a good twenty minutes playing with his hair, and c) Mal having made him two more drinks while that happened. The first one had maybe been gulped down a little too fast in a misguiding attempted to help with the blush.
"Uh, whatchamacallit," Mal said. "The one down by the lake. Dorian?"
"Magic," said Dorian, sounding deeply satisfied.
Cullen groaned. "I didn't even know that place was still open. It's such a bad name for a club."
Mal patted his knee. "It's okay, Cullen, we'll get trashed and you won't even remember what it's called."
"That's what he's afraid of," Cole said, softly.
That was exactly what Cullen was afraid of. It wasn't even really the getting drunk, because he was okay with that. It was that he wasn't very good at clubbing. He'd never really gotten the hang of it. Dancing just led to feeling awkward, and it was too loud to talk, and there weren't very many places to sit, and he always ended up outside in a cloud of cigarette smoke wondering when other people would want to leave. Which is exactly where he was very soon after they'd found Bull and his friends, and then dispersed. He'd been enjoying the air that, if not fresh, was at least cold, for about half an hour when Cole kind of… materialised beside him, holding out a drink.
"Thanks," Cullen said, taking it.
"You're welcome," Cole said, a small smile playing over his face. "Malika sent me. She seemed fairly certain you'd already be out here. She'll come find you later."
"Of course she will," Cullen said.
They sipped their respective drinks in companionable silence for a few moments.
"This doesn't really seem like your scene," Cullen said eventually.
Cole gave the barest impression of a shrug. "It doesn't really seem like your scene."
"Yes, well," Cullen said. "Mal, y'know. But she didn't seem to be bulldozing you like she did me."
"It's not my scene, not really," Cole said. "But look at them. They're so happy."
Cullen followed Cole's gaze to the swell of people inside. He couldn't see anyone he knew, but he was pretty sure he got what Cole meant.
"Yeah," he said. "I guess you're right."
A few minutes away and Cole melted away - Cullen was assuming to indoors. Cullen finished his drink. The night continued. Eventually, he gathered the courage to brave the crush of people around the bar to get another drink. A flushed, sweaty Mal saluted him gleefully when they crossed paths, and he caught sight of Dorian flirting heavily with someone while Bull and his friends (Cullen was sure he knew all their names but when they were all together they had the tendency to transform into a horde) watched. He didn't even think they were trying to be subtle. He'd almost got the the bar, or at least, the several person deep crush of people around the bar when-
"Cullen!"
He couldn't place the voice at all, but then he turned to see messy hair and a grin that were both familiar, if in a slightly different configuration.
"Hawke?" he said. "I mean. Marian. Hi."
She snorted, coming to a halt in front of him. "As long as you don't call me Garrett, it's fine. It's all interchangeable, our family reunions are confusing as fuck. How are things?"
Cullen let out a weird, huffing laugh. He'd never spoken to Marian as much as he'd spoken to her twin, which made sense since Garrett was the one he'd worked with. Really, he'd just seen her when she would occasionally come to pick her brother up. Plus one memorable time she'd done something with had resulted in Aveline dragging her into the station, and sitting her in the waiting room until Garret could come get her. Which he had, looking highly amused, with two embarrassed younger siblings in tow. Marian, unconcerned, had flirted with everyone who passed through the room. Aveline had been furious. Cullen had never asked.
Really, he wouldn't even have counted on Marian remembering him at all.
"Still, sorry," he said. "Things are good. I'm just here with friends. How are you?"
"Good, good," she said. "Garrett was just saying the other day how they miss you at the station. Apparently they replaced you with some fuckweasel named Carroll. Do a shot with me?"
He blinked. "Okay."
She clapped him cheerfully on the shoulder. "Great. You're sparklier than I remember. Come on."
Cullen realised, as she tugged him through the crowd, that he had actually forgotten about the glitter for a little while. Somehow there was a bartender coming over to them as soon as they got to the bar. For a moment Cullen thought he should ask Marian to teach him whatever her trick was, but the answers came very quickly because as soon as she was close enough Marian half hoisted herself onto the bar to give the girl a kiss.
"I'm on the clock, sweet thing," the bartender said, though she didn't sound at all put out. Her lip piercing caught the lights at she spoke. "What can I get you?"
"Shots," Marian said, looking pleased with herself.
"Of course. Coming right up."
"I notice you didn't specify what the shots are of," Cullen said, aiming for dry but probably sounding nervous.
"Of course not," Marian said.
They were both served two shots of something dark, Cullen missed the bottle they were poured from somehow, and the bartender left with a wink. Whatever the it was, it burned all the way into Cullen's chest. He coughed, but managed to only do it once. Marian clapped him on the shoulder again, said, "Good to see you," and disappeared. Cullen went back outside. It took maybe a full minute to realise he'd meant to get a drink. Without one he was just standing outside with nothing to do. It wasn't the alcohol. He'd had the shots. But standing by himself at a club without even an empty glass didn't feel right. But he wasn't sure if he was ready to try and get to the bar again.
"The fuck are you even doing out here?" Sera had slid out of the doorway while Cullen was trying to make a decision. She regarded him from a few feet away, looking unimpressed.
"I like it out here," Cullen said, he thought perfectly reasonably. "You're out here too."
"I haven't fucking been here all night, have I?" Sera retorted, walking over, and tucking herself under his arm. "Aren't you cold?"
Cullen, honestly, hadn't noticed it. "A little."
"You should come inside. It's fun, yeah?"
"Maybe in a little while."
She huffed, poked him viciously in the side, and slid back into the club. And that was that. Until.
"Rutherford."
Pointed, and direct. Cullen was pretty sure he'd been expecting this all night. Dorian walked over, watching him, a swing to his step.
"I didn't make you look as good as you look right now so you could stand outside by yourself all night. It's pathetic." He reached up, fiddling with part of Cullen's hair, frowning. "Come on."
"I'm really okay," Cullen said."
"I wasn't asking," Dorian said, then grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into the club.
They didn't get two steps before Malika descended upon them, grinning like a demon. "Good, you found Cullen," she said. "We're going to the bar to do shots."
There was a knife edge to Dorian's answering smile. "Good."
And that was- That was the beginning of the end. Or not the end. It was the beginning of something. Cullen had been hovering at tipsy all night, but between Mal, and Dorian, and fucking Bull (who'd slammed him on the back in greeting with a half roared, "I didn't even know you were here!"), he was a little past that. A little. Or a lot. Something. He'd been dragged onto the dance floor, and he still didn't know what he was doing but for a little while it didn't seem to matter that much. It felt less just like a crowd and more like a crowd of friends. When he broke out to the smokers courtyard again it was supposed to be just for a moment, to cool down and breathe.
"You'd better not be trying to escape out here again," Dorian said from behind him.
"Just too hot," Cullen said, turning to face him.
Somehow Dorian still looked pretty much like he had when they'd left the apartment. Cullen felt like a sweaty mess. 'Good." He raised an eyebrow. "Though if you're too hot there is something that could help."
"Oh?" said Cullen.
Dorian stepped forward and- and honestly Cullen wasn't even sure how it happened. One moment Dorian was looking at him and the next he'd somehow stripped Cullen's tank top off. And Cullen was frozen. Cullen was drunk and a really good looking guy just pulled his shirt off. He was… He was just.
"Um," he said. Then, slowly crawling back to regular thought. "Won't I get kicked out if I'm not wearing a shirt?"
Dorian looked him up and down, a gratifyingly appreciative look on his face. "At this point? I don't think so."
"Okay." Cullen was fairly sure he was blushing. Well, he'd already been flushed from alcohol, but this had to be making it worse. Maybe Dorian would just assume it was more drunk-flush. Cullen could only hope. "You know, when you said you were going to choose my outfit, I thought you'd pick something more like what you wear." Dorian was wearing a black button down with the sleeves rolled up, and nice jeans. He looked perfectly respectable. Even if the shirt was unbuttoned further down than Cullen had wanted to contemplate. It was getting more and more difficult to not contemplate it.
Whereas Cullen was now shirtless and still covered in glitter.
"Why would I want to dress you like I dress?" Dorian said, like it was obvious. "I dressed you like what I wanted to look at." He smirked. "And I little bit how I thought would make you blush most."
Cullen was fairly sure gold glitter on tomato red skin wasn't a good look. But Mal came to pull them back inside before he could say anything.
Later. There had been some kind of fatal misunderstanding in regards to the location of their uber. They - Cullen, Sera, Mal, and Dorian - were wandering through the streets. Cullen wasn't sure they counted as near the club anymore. Mal had her phone pressed to her ear, but Cullen had tuned out the slightly irritated rapid fire list of street names two blocks ago. He hadn't noticed the cold at first, but it was starting to become hard to ignore. There was just something…
"Where's my shirt?" he asked, frowning. "And where's Cole?"
Sera snorted. "Nice order. Cole went home ages ago."
"I think I left your shirt at the bar," Dorian said. He sounded completely unrepentant.
Headlights cut across the street, and Mal yelped. "Yes! I think I can see you!" And then they were all piling into the car. Dorian somehow ended up in the front again, and to be fair he probably was the best at making not-weird conversation with their driver at this point. Cullen was too cold and drunk to make an effort. Mal, sitting in the middle, leaned into him and let out a hiss.
"Holy tits, you're freezing." It didn't stop her leaning into him at all.
"I am aware of that," Cullen said.
By the time they got to their building, Sera was definitely asleep, and Mal was most of the way. Dorian looked at Cullen. "I'll take Sera if you take Mal," he said. Somehow, that worked, Sera roused enough to cling to Dorian piggy back style, and Mal leaning into Cullen all the way up the stairs. They got in, everyone floating in that quiet sleepy-drunk phase. Cullen forced himself to brush his teeth and change his jeans for sweatpants before burrowing under his duvet. He was still cold. He wasn't asleep yet when his bed dipped and someone burrowed in next to him. He cracked open his eyes to see Sera peering at him from a few inches away.
"Mal's bed is fucking covered in shit. I can't be fucked going back to my place," she mumbled, and then prodded him on the nose. "You had fun tonight, right?"
"Yeah," Cullen said, muzzily.
"Good," she said.
Mal slipped in then, crawling in on Sera's other side. "I'm glad you have a big bed, Cul," she murmured.
Cullen was mostly asleep when there was a dry chuckle from the doorway. "I came to say goodnight, but. Well, how could I not join in on this?" came Dorian's voice. Cullen couldn't quite get himself to open his eyes, but he felt Dorian slide under the covers behind him, pressed in close and blessedly warm. He wanted to ask something, but all that came out was a vaguely questioning noise. Dorian let out a soft laugh. "Go to fucking sleep, Cullen.'
The problem was this; liking Dorian had been a slow, steady build over years. They'd all met because Dorian had recognised Mal from an introduction class, and one time when class has been cancelled but Mal hadn't checked her emails, he'd seen her walking to class and stopped her to make sure she knew. Mal had declared him her savior, brought him to meet everyone and… The rest had been history. But he'd been Mal's friend first, someone who was around sometimes, but only Mal-adjacent. It'd been two years before he and Cullen had really become friends. And Cullen had hardly dated anyone through college, focused on his schoolwork to the point where if he didn't have friends like Mal it would've been to the exclusion of all else. And then he'd started with the police, and… Somewhere along the line Cullen had started looking at Dorian differently. He didn't know how to change what their relationship already was. Dorian had never shown the slighted bit of interest, beyond the occasional leer. Given that he occasionally leered at everyone, so it wasn't exactly something Cullen could take to heart. And, flustered though he might get sometimes, Cullen was not particularly willing to invest himself in getting all moony over someone who wasn't interested. He liked Dorian. He didn't entertain notions about anything happening between them. Or, rather, he had and the possibilities included many more chances of mortification than anything else, so he did his very best to stop entertaining said notions. Which worked. Most of the time.
Still…
Still, waking up with Dorian's mustache tickling the back of his neck was something. No matter how hungover he felt. Even with Sera sprawled linbs akimbo half on top of him, and Mal somehow flipped around with her head resting on Sera's calf. Dorian was warm, resting against his back and- okay. It was far too hot in Cullen's bed with four people. He'd sweated enough the night before. And the more he woke up the drier his mouth felt, and the more his head hurt. There was no way to decide between going back to sleep or pulling himself out of bed so he could cool down. Mal's bed had to be free, if everyone was in his. He could go there.
A buzzing noise cut through his thoughts; his phone. In his jeans pocket, on the floor. His head throbbed. He groaned. The phone buzzed again. Very slowly, he managed to extricate himself from the mess of people. Several long minutes, and a punch to the ribs that would've been vicious if Sera was any more awake, and he was standing. Hunched over and squinting, but standing. And he had his phone which gave him several pieces of information; it was 9.30am, he had 12% battery left, a voicemail, two texts from Aveline, and a missed call from his sister who had probably left the voicemail.
'Hawke's sister said she saw you last night. Good on you for getting out. She's in fine form this morning', read Aveline's first text.
'Makes me interested to see what kind of shape you're in. Lunch?' read the second.
Cullen tried to imagine how he'd feel in two hours, compared with how guilty he'd feel turning Aveline down for the second time in a row, since he'd been in dissertation hell last time she'd asked. Not that he wasn't still in dissertation hell, he'd just been handling it better that week. After careful consideration, he replied in the affirmative, plugged his phone in to charge, and set about trying to feel more like a human being. Starting with a shower. He could deal with the voicemail significantly later.
When he emerged, with wet hair and hopefully without the glitter he'd completely forgotten about until he'd caught sight of himself in the mirror (Pavus had a lot to answer for), Josephine was curled on the couch with a book.
"Morning," he managed, though it felt more like a grunt, as he shuffled towards the kitchen.
"There's coffee in the pot," she said, sounded amused.
He grunted thankfully, retrieving a mug. Food didn't feel like a possibility just yet but coffee? Coffee was definitely doable. Halfway through the first cup he felt almost conscious, which led to a realisation, which led to shuffling back to the doorway into the lounge to glare at Josephine in the most accusatory manner he could manage.
"You never showed up last night," he said.
She glanced up from her book, the picture of innocence. "Leliana and I decided to stay in. We figured it wouldn't take everyone long to forget we were meant to show up. I didn't get any frantic texts, so I guess we were right." She smiled, serenely. "What are you doing up before the rest of them, anyway?"
"I overheated because everyone is in my bed," he said. "And I'm having lunch with Aveline, so I needed time to make myself human." He yawned, wide enough that his jaw cracked, and drained his mug. "I think it's going to take more coffee."
She held out her own cup. "Bring me another too?"
Two cups later and Cullen had to catch a bus to meet Aveline at 11.30. He could have driven, really, but he was still feeling slightly too hungover to really trust himself behind the wheel. That, and his car had recently started combining the screeching sound it had been making for months with a acrid smell like burnt plastic and Cullen wasn't ready to confront the fact that he was probably going to need to take it to a mechanic sometime soon. If he didn't drive it, it couldn't get any worse. Probably. Still, the bus might not have been the best idea. The blue line buses were always the old ones, he could never figure out why, and the swaying was not helping his stomach. And then there was the guy in the seat behind him who had been chatting happily on his phone the entire ride so far. By the time they reached his stop, Cullen was really regretting the decision to do anything but stay horizontal. Though, at least he was on solid ground again. And by the time he actually walked the rest of the way to meet Aveline, he was feeling a little better.
And, bless her, she'd been thinking of him when she picked the place. It was one of the many, many painfully trendy burger places that'd been popping up all over the city. There were at least four different chains, opening up a seemingly endless amount of stores, plus a few independents. They were all similarly overpriced, and similarly delicious. Even standing outside the door the smell of hot oil and chutney was pervasive. Cullen was pretty sure there had previously been a florist in the same location a year ago. His stomach growled. The nausea, he realised, was almost completely gone.
"Here I thought you'd be late." He turned to see Aveline striding towards him, still in uniform. She was grinning broadly, and pulled him into a hug when she got close enough. "You look about how I expected though. Not quite as bad as Marian."
"I'm surprised she was anywhere you would've seen her," Cullen said.
"Garrett got a flat tire, she had to bring him a spare," she answered, leading the way into the restaurant. "She was not pleased."
"I can imagine," Cullen said.
Lunch with Aveline was always good. Sometimes he forgot how much. Between the time, and the greasy pulled pork and apple slaw burger, thick cut fries, and stories of how things had been going in the station, he was feeling fully human again. And missing his old job a little. Maybe not the job exactly. Being on the force always felt like belonging to something. Somehow, some of it must have shown on his face, and Aveline gave him an appraising look as she wiped her hands on her napkin.
"How's the doctorate going?" she asked.
"It's… going," Cullen said. He'd spent four hours that Thursday just trying to fix some fucking footnotes but that was… Just something that happened. "It's fine."
"What are you going to do after it's done?"
"I haven't thought about it yet," Cullen said. In fact, he'd been actively avoiding thinking about it.
Aveline raised an eyebrow. Cullen fidgeted.
"Is this the part where you say you'd always be happy to have me back?"
"No," Aveline said. "Obviously we would. You did good work. But it's your life."
Cullen spun the straw of his drink between his fingers. "Yeah, it is." But the sudden reminder of what he was doing with his life now, rather than what he did with his life then, already had him thinking. Monday morning he had a session at a local school for his research, and then he had to be on campus on Tuesday for a class and a meeting with his advisor. Which… It wasn't that he didn't like his advisor, it was that the flinty stare she pinned him with every time they had a meeting made him feel like he was failing, no matter what she was actually telling him at the time. "Once I figure it out I'll be sure to let you know."
"Glad to hear it." Aveline smiled, then sighed. "I should probably get back. I left Kev in charge and he hasn't stopped texting his new girlfriend all week."
They paid, and wandered out onto the street, and before they parted ways Aveline said, "Oh, by the way. Invitations are coming in the next week or so. Watch for it."
Cullen grinned, broadly. "I can't wait. Tell Donnic I said hi."
"Will do," she called, waving as she turned away. And Cullen walked back to the bus stop to catch another miserable blue line back to the apartment building.
It was after two when he got home. The late night had hit him halfway through the trip back, and he spent the walk from the bus stop to the building yawning. The apartment was quiet when he walked in, but he found Mal curled on the couch with a mug of tea on the coffee table, and a book she might've been napping over.
"Everyone went home," she said, blinking owlishly at him. "Josie went to Leli's. Where were you?"
"Lunch with Aveline," he said. "How are you feeling?"
"Ugh," she said succinctly.
He held in a laugh. "I'm going to go take a nap."
She nodded, waving him off, and he retreated to his room. He didn't even bother closing the door behind him before collapsing face on top of his bed. It wasn't that- he wasn't looking for a trace of Dorian on his sheets or anything. But he swore he could still smell him. He really had it bad.