In which Krem really, really likes the tavern waitress. She kind of likes him too, but ignorance gets in their way.

I do not make any profit out of this, and own only the waitress.

Please review if you feel so inclined :)

So Krem had developped this new habit of never sitting down properly, Bull noticed.

It was ever since the move to Skyhold, really. Ever since they had entered that tavern for the first time, Krem appeared to have forgotten how to, quite plainly, sit his ass down. He had his chair at the tavern, the one all people around had learnt not to sit on even when Krem was not around (which was fairly rare anyway). Little by little, the rest of the Chargers had accepted their fate: if ever they wanted a drink with their lieutenant, they would have to shuffle their own chairs up to his. But back to Krem' sitting down problem. He did not seem to sit traditionally, that is, with his ass fully settled down and his back fully rested against the back of the chair. Instead, he was either standing by the chair with a foot perched on it, or seated half on it half off it, or rather often he was himself perched on the back of the chair with his feet on its seat, and even, if the tavern was busy enough, he actually stood on his precious chair, towering above the rest of the tavern.

Additionally, his second in command had developped a drinking problem. Not that he drank too much, no, in fact, considering the amount of time that Krem spent at the tavern, it was truly amazing that he had not developped that kind of drinking problem. No, what Bull meant by 'drinking problem', was quite literally a problem with drinking. Were it water, ale, wine, Krem just spilt it all. Somehow, he appeared to have forgotten how to bring liquid to his mouth. Bull had spent quite some time watching him, and from his observations said drinking problem appeared to unfold as such: Krem picked up his drink without encountering any issues. He lifted it towards his face, again without encountering any issues. He prepared himself for reception of the drink, lips pouted and parted, then, precisely then, the drink never failed to miss his mouth. If he was drinking out of a tankard, some of the ale would go in, but most of it would flow down the side of his face, sometimes up his nose, and into his collar. Ale would nearly drown him then, and he would cough and spit all over his trousers. If he was drinking out of a bottle Krem managed not to make as big a mess, but Bull had caught him bringing the bottle to his nostril instead of his mouth, and that on more than one occasion.

But of course, Bull would be a poor excuse for a Ben-Hassarth of he had not already worked out the reason behind his lieutenant' sudden oddness. What's more, Bull had been expecting some sort of change in the lad, since he'd first entered the tavern and set eyes on the elven waitress, even before Krem had had chance to see her for himself. He had known. Bull could be very foreseeing like that. He'd seen the long curls of blond hair, and the pointed ears piercing through it. He'd seen the pink lips, the few freckles, the bright blue eyes set in a heartshaped face. He'd also seen the vivacity of her movements, the sway of her hips, the quickness and confidence she put in every task she had to accomplish. And, he'd seen the way she favoured her left wrist, rolling it around a few times after putting down something heavy, the slight bruises under her eyes and occasional yawns suggesting nightmare-filled nights, the stiff and precise way with which she sorted the whole place out, serving, collecting, cleaning, wiping, serving, collecting, a never ending dance of precise and unwasted gestures, no movement ever pointless and every task accomplished in the most time efficient manner. Like someone who liked to be in control, who liked to plan ahead, who never relaxed as long as there were things needing to be done. Of course, to most people she just looked like a pretty but uncorruptable waitress, who was blond and graceful, and just too quick for anyone drunk enough to attempt to flirt with her. Or tip her, for that matter.

Bull had seen her, like he saw people, but with her, he'd somehow known from the start that as soon as Krem would set eyes on her he would be lost. That elf would punch him right in the heart and knock him off his feet without realising what she'd done.

So yes, Bull had expected some sort of change on his second in command's part, but if he had to be honest then he would admit he had not quite expected said change to appear in the form of some fool who stood on chairs and poured wine down his nose. Oh well.

Krem shuffled a bit more to the right on his chair, not bothered about how uncomfortable he was. He craned his neck to try and catch a glimpse of her, but she'd disappeared into that corner again and it didn't help that Rocky's big face was in the way. What was he even talking about anyway? If it was the explosive sewers story again then they had all heard it enough times for a lifetime. When he realised that he would have to get off his chair if he wanted to look past Rocky's face, Krem decided to switch to plan B. He stood, then perched himself on top of the back of the chair, feet firmly planted on the seat, his elbows resting on his knees. There, much better. Now his field of vision went past the others Chargers and patrons, all the way to his beautiful waitress as she collected empties. She had tied her hair up that night, but some stuborn curls escaped the tight bun and brushed against her cheekbones. He could see her blow them away out of the corner of her mouth, pouting her lips in the most gorgeous manner. In his mind, Krem kept on replaying fantasy number 38, the one where he got up from his chair, walked over to her, delicately put the hair back behind her lovely ear and let his hand cup her lovely cheek as his thumb brushed her lovely lip before his hand slipped to her neck as he pulled her to him and kissed her lovely mouth...

"Crap" he said, as wine poured down his throat and into his collar.

"Maker's breath, Krem, do they not teach you how to use a bottle in Tevinter?"

"They teach us how to smash it on idiots' heads, Stitches, I'd watch out if I were you."

"Right now it's my clothes I need to watch out for, they're getting wined out."

"And guess what? They look much better for it."

"What are you looking at anyway?" said Rocky, turning around and trying to see where Krem's eyes had gone to.

"The question is not what, but who," said Bull before chuckling to himself like he had just told the best joke of the century.

"It's the waitress." Said Skinner, woman of a few words.

"The waitress?!" Gasped the other Chargers, as they all got out of their seats to look around for her. "Which one?"

"The blond one. The Elf."

"Elf, uh-huh?" Said Grim, wiggling his eyebrows at Krem.

"Stop staring at her, she'll see you!" Hissed Krem, but it was too late.

The waitress looked up from the empty glasses she had just picked up, let her gaze wander around the tavern in search of a hand up, and froze when she saw all seven mercenaries staring at her from accross the room, with big goofy smiles on their faces. She raised an eyebrow at them, silently asking if they needed something, but they all just dropped back onto their chairs without answering. She shrugged, and carried on.

"Well done" said Krem, fuming.

"She is pretty" said Grim, ignoring him entirely. "I mean, I find Elves a bit skinny myself, but you know, as long as it fits in the hand..."

"Hello" interrupted Dalish.

Grim just blinked at her. "Hello?"

"Hello, myself and Skinner are right here."

"Yes" answered Grim cautiously, "I can see that". He then turned to the others and used his tankard to hide his face as he pointed his index at his temple and traced a circle in the air.

Krem just shook his head and risked another look at the waitress. She had gone behind the bar then, probably to wash all the glasses and plates she had picked up. She really impressed him, she was tiny, well, slim-built like an elf, but she was able to carry ar least a dozen glasses, tankards and bottles on that tray of hers. All empties would be piled up in what looked like an extremely unstable pyramid, but she swayed between tables, tray sometimes held up high above her head, defying rules of gravity and logic. It looked heavy too, for her slim wrists, but she never showed any sign of struggle. Krem had noticed though that after carrying a particularly full tray she often had to roll her wrists around a bit, sometimes even massaging the left one in particular. He'd even seen her pick up a heavy pitchet with her left hand once, and set it back immediately with a wince. Fantasy number 14 consisted of Krem appearing behind her back to help her lift heavier things, and fantasy number 15 had him massaging her wrists and hands for her. Fantasy 16 and 17 had him massaging other parts of her body, like her ankles, and in fantasy number 18 Krem's hands slipped up from her ankles to her legs, from her legs to her thighs, and up her skirt...

"FOR FUCK' SAKE, KREM!" Yelled Rocky as wine poured from Krem's bottle and onto the dwarf's pants.

The Iron Bull guffawed as Rocky tried to sponge up his trousers, while slapping Grim's hand away as it tried to help dry the region of his groin. Oh yes, his second had it baaaad!