"Settling In"

ooo

"You don't have to go."

Dorian is halfway through getting dressed, pulling on his high-collared shirt. He looks over at Aeric, who hasn't bothered to put on anything other than his smallclothes. Well, they are his quarters after all. And Dorian doesn't mind the view.

"Is this that mutual domesticity I wasn't suggesting that first time?" Dorian asks with a smile.

Aeric's brow furrows. "No, I'm not really suggesting you move in or anything. Yet, anyway."

"Yet?" Dorian repeats with a laugh. "Getting ahead of ourselves, I see."

"You know what I mean." Aeric shifts in the bed, sliding to sit beside him. "I'm just saying that if you're tired or even simply don't want to leave, you don't have to. I'd like having you here with me."

Dorian feels his cheeks warm. Maker, but this Dalish elf with his ultramarine eyes (honestly, he didn't know such an eye color could exist) and bronze skin and olive green tattoos covering his over-serious face… Dorian thought he left feelings like these behind in his teenage years.

He clears his throat. "Not that the idea isn't appealing, amatus," Dorian begins with a smile, "but I'm afraid I'm not quite… accustomed to the idea of what 'more' means, exactly. Old habits die hard, I suppose."

Aeric places a hand over one of Dorian's, squeezing gently. "Still worried about what people might think?"

Dorian tries to think of something witty to say, but gives up and sighs instead. "Always."

The elf merely nods, quiet for a moment before he speaks. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, Dorian. If it makes you feel better to go, then I understand. But the offer to stay is always open to you."

A swell of emotion fills him, and Dorian pulls Aeric to him, kissing him hard on the lips, starting with that little line of olive tattoo at the center of his bottom lip. Dorian loves that line. And the convenient trail it provides to the sensitive parts of Aeric's neck.

The kissing progresses quickly until hands become involved and breath turns bated.

Aeric laughs, a deep, hearty sound. "You just got dressed, ma'nehn."

Dorian grins, though he raises an eyebrow at the elvish endearment. He'll ask about it later. "That's the great part about getting dressed, you know. You get to help me take it all off again."

ooo

The night after they return to Skyhold from Adamant, their lovemaking is urgent, almost desperate. Dorian collapses beside Aeric on the bed after they've both climaxed. While their sex has provided a welcome distraction, the events at the Grey Warden stronghold are still heavy on his mind. The terror and immediate despair he felt when he realized Aeric was no longer behind him. The certainty and resignation in thinking he lost his amatus forever. The relief and joy and anger when Aeric finally emerged from the rift. Dorian closes his eyes, feeling heavy against the pillows.

"Dorian? Are you all right?"

Dorian opens his eyes and peeks over at Aeric. His face is so full of open concern, Dorian can't help himself and reaches out to touch it, stroking the long scar on the right side of Aeric's face. Dorian shakes his head, but smiles despite himself. "Nope. Still never forgiving you for making me think you died."

When Aeric's face falls into a pained expression, Dorian immediately regrets his words. "I'm sorry," Aeric says.

"I know," Dorian replies. "All part of the Inquisitor's job, I guess."

Aeric holds his arms wide, wordlessly inviting Dorian in. After a moment's hesitation, Dorian shifts, settling into Aeric's strong arms and resting his head on his chest.

They've never done this before. Dorian has never done this before either, not with anyone. He always used to scoff at the idea of just holding another person, and being held. Not wanting to admit that such a level of intimacy has always seemed terrifying and unattainable.

Now, his legs intertwined with Aeric's, pressed closer to him than he has ever been to another person in his life, Dorian sighs with contentment. Aeric's bare skin is warm against his, his breath soft as it flits over Dorian's temple. Aeric's heartbeat is strong and steady in his ear. Reassuring, alive.

"Better?" Aeric murmurs, kissing Dorian's hair.

"Much," Dorian replies. "I can see why people find this snuggling business so appealing."

The elf chuckles. Dorian can hear the soft laughter ripple through Aeric's chest. "I've wanted to do this for some time now," Aeric says.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting."

Aeric shakes his head and kisses Dorian again. "Absolutely worth it."

I don't want to go… Dorian thinks. He feels so warm and safe and… happy. But I shouldn't linger here, he tells himself, even as his body turns heavy and his eyes close.

ooo

When Dorian wakes and finds himself still in Aeric's quarters, he panics.

"The door to your quarters is right in the middle of the Great Hall!" Dorian races around the room, gathering up the odds and ends of his clothing from where they fell haphazardly all over the floor. "There are probably two dozen gossip-mongering Orlesian nobles waiting for you down there already! Won't they be all a-titter when they see the bloody Tevinter magister walking out of your bedroom first thing in the morning?"

Aeric, his eyes squinted and groggy, catches hold of one of Dorian's arms. "Dorian… slow down. It'll be all right."

"All right?" Dorian repeats. His voice lowers, calmer now, but with no less intensity. "Do you know what they'll say? That the Inquisition is in bed with the Tevinter Imperium. Literally."

"You're not the Imperium," Aeric says. His thumb traces a soothing circle on Dorian's wrist. "And they'll talk no matter what we do."

"That they will." Dorian sighs. Aeric's touch settles his nerves more than he cares to admit. "But you'd be surprised what damage 'idle' gossip can do. You will lose support because of me. I just… I don't want it all to fall apart on my account."

"It won't." Dorian shakes his head and begins to pull away, but Aeric gently pulls him closer. "No, listen. Whatever we do in here, whatever they say out there, we are still doing good work out where it matters. And you are part of that." Aeric gives him a smile, small and sincere. Maker damn him, but the elf smiles so rarely, seeing it always makes Dorian's heart race.

"Let our actions speak for us," Aeric continues. "They might think they're playing some Game, but I have no interest in it. If they're such fools that they would ignore the world falling apart right in front of their faces, then I don't need their support. And even if I did, I won't let them dictate with whom I get involved. The Inquisition can't be my entire life."

Dorian chuckles, drawing close. "That is… the exact opposite of what I was brought up to believe." He rests his forehead against Aeric's and breathes in his scent. The elf smells of evergreen trees, or perhaps rosemary. Did all Dalish smell so woodsy? He'd have to ask one day. "All my life: avoid scandal. Image is everything. Think of the family legacy." He gives a small shrug. "What you're saying is so… honest."

"You make that sound like a bad thing." A smile does not grace Aeric's lips this time, but Dorian can hear the amusement in his voice.

"It would be, in Tevinter."

"You're not in Tevinter anymore, ma'nehn."

There's that word again. Ma'nehn. Aeric still refuses to tell him what it means, turning it into a game between them. No matter. Dorian likes a good puzzle, and the fact that he has a petname at all warms his heart.

He sighs with more drama than is warranted. "You're right. Again." He grins. "I hate that."

"I know," Aeric says simply, gracing him with another smile. They are getting more frequent, Dorian has noticed. It pleases him to no end.

Aeric tugs at Dorian again, catching his lips with a kiss. Dorian gives a moan of pleasure, but when they part, he tuts at him. "This is turning into a bad habit, amatus. Stopping me from going with those lips of yours. Naked as you are, how can I resist?"

"You're still naked too," Aeric points out.

"Quite right." Dorian pushes him to the bed. "Have you much to do this morning? No pressing plans?"

There's a mischievous twinkle in Aeric's eyes that makes Dorian's breath catch. "Anything else can wait. If those nobles are going to talk anyway, let's really give them a scandal."

Dorian slides onto the bed and rolls Aeric onto his back. "I couldn't agree more," he says, kissing Aeric until they're both left breathless.

When the two of them are finally ready to leave Aeric's quarters an hour later, Dorian's stomach flutters with anxiety. But Aeric's hand in his - bold move that it is - gives him strength. Being open about who he is, about who he wants to be with, was harder than he could have ever imagined.

Aeric squeezes his hand reassuringly, seeming to sense Dorian's unease. Dorian gives a shaky smile, but squares his shoulders. No matter what happens, he's sure he can face it, so long as he has his amatus at his side. Aeric puts his hand on the door. Dorian nods. The door opens, and they walk out to the Great Hall together.