The prompt: The Warden loses his/her virginity. And tells everybody.
Looking for a bit of social fail on the Warden's part, though awkward overeager first time scene would probably be great icing on the failcake.
The fill:
When Aedan came out of the tent, he was nearly strutting.
"Why, hello there. How was everyone's nights? And mornings?"
As though none of them had heard the awful noises, the guttural cries and squelshing groans and repeating whimpers of "Oh, Maker. Maker. Dear MAKER-" had gone for forever and five minutes. The enthusiastic "Woohooo!" everyone needed a minute to realized hadn't come from Zevran, was followed by pitiful sounds of hopeless sobbing, "Maker, what have I done? And with you?" and then when that stopped, a pleading, "C'mon, please, it's cold outside, and Alistair snores and the Dog smells and sometimes Oghren comes out without wearing pants," and a long sigh from a tired Antivan who eventually relented and let the Warden share his tent for the entire night.
...Then, just as they'd been able to push the images aside to fall asleep, awoke to the same awful noises, the guttural cries and squelshing moans that echoed all the way to Morrigan, who awoke red-eyed and half-convinced that the Archdemon was on its way. Alistair was still struggling to get his color back after realizing what exactly had happened.
Everyone glared at their leader.
The Grey Warden stared back wide-eyed. Like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "What?"
"Do you not realize how loud you were?"
"Um. Oh. Sorry?" He kept smirking. "But really how has your day been so far, Morrigan?"
A curl of dark hair hung into her bright eyes. "I got three hours of sleep last night, Warden. Do not push me."
"That's a shaaaame. I feel all relaxed and great. Rejuvenated."
"Aedan, stop bragging. It's ruining our breakfast."
"Weeeellll. Sorry about that. Just had such a great, great night. You know. Last night. Awesome time.
"So how was your evening, my fellow Grey Warden."
Alistair just made a face.
"Not good, then? Of course, no way it could be as good as mine.
"And you, my favorite bard?"
"Not quite as exciting as your own, I must admit."
He beamed at her. "Very exciting."
"Yes, I bet last night would take a whole two pages in your diary."
"Bitter, Morrigan? Jealous?"
"Of what?"
"That I was the proud, eager, happy guest in Zevran's tent?"
The older mage seated nearby looked revolted and shifted away from the group. "I liked it before when you felt threatened and worried about Zevran coming onto you. Or even when you badgered me for stories about griffins."
"Oh, please." Morrigan sneered at him, not taking her eyes from him as she accepted a bowl of mush from Leliana. "Why would you be proud of that? That's like being able to breathe or drink water."
"What?"
"Everyone can do it."
Finally, as though summoned, Zevran crawled from his wrinkled and abused tent. For once, his gold hair was in disarray.
He took a mug of tea from Leliana, who seemed to have to fight the urge to say something teasing to Zevran. "Mmm, hello everyone."
They all waited for the next remark. Something about how much his morning had been better than everyone else's. A disgusting remark about needing to eat a big breakfast to gain back his strength. They waited.
"Is there any sugar for this?"
"Nope."
"Shame." The elf took another sip.
"Is that it?"
"Hmm?"
Wynne looked disgusted. "Don't make us ask. Just say it. Say what you're going to say."
"And what do you think I'm going to say, exactly?"
"Brag. About your conquest. The one you've been trying to accomplish since you tried to kill us. I'm almost sure I noticed you trying to look up his skirt when he decided to spar you."
A nod of his bright head, hair already perfectly done. "That's true. But it's rude for a gentleman to kiss and tell. Let alone brag about it."
The wild witch raised an eyebrow. "Nothing to brag about, you mean."
Leliana tried to hide her giggle behind her tea.
"Oh, there was plenty. Plenty. Don't worry about that."
"There it is. Now we can move on with the rest of our day."
"Is that really all you're going to say?" Aedan was cocking his head, looking strangely at Zevran, who looked playfully scandalized.
"What, do you want me to go on and on about the sordid things we did?"
"Um. I don't know. Something. I mean, I had a great time. Amazing."
The dark golden eyes narrowed to better take in the smiling Warden. "Hmm, is that right?"
"At least go into the tent when you do that."
"I had no idea it was supposed to be like that. Was it supposed to go like that?"
"Ahem. Yes. Generally. Though," Zevran muttered into his cup. "There tends to be less crying and pleads towards the Maker for forgiveness at the end."
"Say. There's Sten. Hey, Sten. Sten! Hear what I did last night?"
"The elf?"
"That's right! Gimme a high-five."
"He's like a child at a birthday party," The Orlesian red-head informed everyone, sounding amused. Zevran looked down at his mug, trying to combine the serious, honorable Warden with the eager young man bouncing around who was all giddy, charming smiles. Was it really the same man? They had the same lanky build and large shoulders and big hands and feet, the colored hair and hairstyle that flopped onto the same forehead of the same exact handsome thin face and the shape and shape of their eyes was a match.
But still. Still.
"Oghren, hey, give me a hug!-Oh, no. No. Put some pants on. Please.
"But did you hear about me and Zevran?
"You heard it? Well. It was too awesome to keep quiet for.
"Shale! Shale! How are you? Kill any pigeons lately? That's great. So Zevran and I had sex last night.
"Yep. The painted elf. Yep.
"No. I promise you, we won't copulate in front of you.
"Now how 'bout a hug?"
"I guess he really did just need to have sex," Zevran said thoughtfully.