Trevelyan, along with the Iron Bull, Sera, and Dorian had just returned to Haven after one of their outings on the West Coast. Both Iron Bull and Sera had influenced the two mages that they all deserved a night in the Tavern. Though Trevelyan couldn't promise anything, he hadn't been feeling too good as of late; his physical wellness was fine, his mind was just… filled with certain things.
As Iron Bull and Sera conversed loudly, with some side comments from Dorian; Trevelyan let his mind distract him as they all made their way to the Tavern. Once they reached the door, Iron Bull swung it open, and the liveliness from inside was bustling; even that didn't bull Trevelyan from his thoughts.
Being pulled inside and sat down at one of the round tables by Dorian, however, did drive him to focus on reality. Soon after, a tankard of ale was slid in front of him. Trevelyan lifted his hands up to hold the tankard, tapping it lightly with his fingers as he looked down into it. "Thanks." He whispered, taking a sip. Aah, Ferelden Ale.
The trio sat around on the table beside Trevelyan. Dorian to his right, the Iron Bull to his left, and Sera across from him. The round table rattled as Bull leaned against it, slamming a large tankard onto the table, a giant grin on his face. "Come on, Boss. You should try the good stuff, not that piss Ale." He nudged Trevelyan with his elbow, the mage growing a small smirk across his face. "It's not that bad. It may not be the strongest of drinks, but I like it." He spoke sheepishly, glancing over to Dorian, who had brought him the beverage.
Who immediately caught his eye, smiling curiously.
Trevelyan bit his lip, averting his gaze as blush nipped at his cheeks. He hadn't expected Dorian to look at him like that.
Quickly clearing his throat and fixing his composure, the mage raised his head back up, nervous hands wrapped around his tankard. All three pairs of eyes were on him, and that only made him more nervous. He wasn't used to… something such as this.
Huffing, Trevelyan straightened himself, a determined look upon his face. Holding the tankard in his hand firmly, he tipped it to his lips, chugging the Ale. Slamming down the now empty tankard on the table, he grinned at the Bull. "Alright, Bull. Get me one of those… what do you call them?"
The Qunari bursted out with a laugh, sliding his drink over. "That's the spirit, Boss. Take mine, haven't had a sip from it yet. I'm warning you, though. It's strong stuff." Sera was grinning from across the table, her silly laugh just waiting to come out. Trevelyan did not dare to look at Dorian.
The Herald held the tankard up to his lips, the Ale's scent entering his nose. "Well, go on. Drink it." Dorian spoke up, resting his head in his hand against the table, smirking. Trevelyan looked at the Tevene for a moment out of the corner of his eye, feeling his face warm just the slightest. Looking forward again, he chugged the Ale, feeling his throat burn as it went down. Oh, he was going to regret chugging all of that in one go.
Just like that, the mage slumped over on the table, going into a coughing fit. He shoved the empty tankards away, gesturing to Bull to bring him another. He didn't want to lift his head. His throat was burning and his eyes stung, but that was okay. This would get his mind off of… certain things.
The Iron Bull returned with another tankard for the Herald, and another for himself as well. He slid one of the drinks to the mage. Sera was giggling since Trevelyan was still coughing, damn her. "Thanks, Bull. Even if this stuff burns like hell… I don't want to be sober." Trevelyan laughed nervously, drinking half of the tankard in one go. Each of them had their own drinks at this point, though Bull and the Herald had a little extra, of course. "No problem, Boss." Bull smiled, turning his attention to Sera as they began to talk about something the Herald really didn't pay much attention to. He couldn't care less.
Dorian though, he had neglected his own beverage, his eyes not leaving the Herald as he smiled. Trevelyan felt a lump in his throat as he sipped his drink, looking at the Tevene from the side. Why was he looking at him like that…?
"Dorian?" The mage spoke, turning to face the other man now. It seemed the two cups of alcohol had begun to take effect on him, because otherwise Trevelyan would be as anxious as a Templar flirting with their Knight-Commander. Dorian raised slightly, moving his hand to hold his tankard. "Yes?" He asked, lifting his tankard up to sip it, finally. "Ah, nothing. You were just… staring at me. I thought you needed something."
The Tevene's expression hardened, looking the fellow mage in the eye. "I do. I need to know something. I've noticed how you've been acting, and it concerns me. What's been swimming around in that Herald mind of yours?" Dorian leaned toward Trevelyan, placing a hand upon the man's shoulder. The Herald flinched, moving away, sinking lower towards his drink. He rested his bottom lip against the rim of the tankard, his expression distraught. "I can't say. This stuff is the only thing willing me to speak up right now. And to spill my feelings to you, Dorian? Only if I'm drunk, and I'm halfway there." Dorian scoffed, the concern in his face softening. "I'll take you up on that offer then, Herald."
After what seemed like an hour, all of them were not-so-sober, their laughter and voices booming around the Tavern. Save of Dorian, who seemed to be the only one not drunk. As tempting as it was to drink himself into a stupor, his curiosity was stronger than his urge to get drunk at the moment. He had more important matters to attend to, matters which involved a certain Herald of Andraste. Dorian would wait a while longer, as it seemed Trevelyan was still avoiding him. Why was that, anyway? He would find out, surely.
It was at this point that the Herald was passed out on one of the chairs in the Tavern, snoring away. Everyone else kept to themselves, knowing enough to not try and bother the mage. Dorian kept his eyes on the man, just in case.
Stuck in time. Hands, roaming. Fingers- digging and scratching. Pleasant cries; the way he holds me. Gentle lips, so delicate and yet… rough, tantalizing. I want those lips; those hands in mine. So afraid, oh Maker, I'm afraid. What if he doesn't…?
Dorian.
Trevelyan gasped, shooting to life. He looked to have just seen a ghost. He clutched his chest, lightly panting as he began to realize he was dreaming, despite his drunken state. The Herald attempted to stand, only to slump back down in the chair. He looked disturbed. Dorian made his way over to the Herald, offering a hand out to help the man up. "I'm assuming you want to leave now, no doubt." The Tevene's mustache curled slightly in amusement.
"Ah, yes. I jus' wanna sleep." Trevelyan drawled, taking Dorian's hand and standing up, keeping his balance his time. Dorian helped the fellow mage out the door, beginning to walk to the left with the Herald slumped against him. "Are my quarters fit for your nap, Herald? It's much closer than your own." Dorian suggested, stopping when the neared the stairs and the other path to Haven's Chantry. Trevelyan clutched onto the Tevene, an unintentional whine coming from his throat. "Your quarters would do fine."
The Herald knew what was to come. Dorian and his questions… Why did he have to be so concerned with him? A sigh of relief left the Herald as Dorian opened the door to his small cottage. When had he begun walking again?
Trevelyan groaned as he was sat down on Dorian's bed, furrowing his brow. "Would you like some water?" The Tevene offered, pulling up a chair beside the bed, hesitating to sit in it. "No, it's okay. Thanks though." The Herald mumbled, shifting himself to face Dorian. His throat was numb by this point, so water wouldn't really have an affect on him. "I'm assuming you're drunk enough to actually face me, yes?" The Tevene questioned, sitting himself down in the chair.
"Mmmh." The Herald agreed, his voice groggy with his numbed throat. Trevelyan inched closer to the edge of the bed, letting his hands fall limb over the edge. "Then I can finally ask you what I've been needing to ask, though I would've preferred to do it while you were not drunk, but I suppose this will have to do." Dorian shrugged, glancing down at the fellow mage. "Ask away." Trevelyan huffed. He couldn't stop him, anyway.
"Why avoid me, Herald? Why the need to be drunk to even speak to me?" Dorian furrowed his brow, crossing his arms over his chest. Trevelyan's eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape. The look on Dorian's face was… genuinely worried for him. It made the Herald's heart beat a bit faster. He had to answer him, didn't he? Well, there's no going back.
"I'm afraid to face you." Trevelyan whispered, looking down to his left hand as it hung over the edge of the bed. "I'm afraid of what you'd think of me if I…" He scrunched up his face, biting his lip. "...If I told you how I felt 'bout ya." The Herald whimpered, bringing his left arm to cover his eyes. He felt like crying, though that urge was probably the liquor.
Dorian was speechless for once. Did the Herald truly like him in such a way? After processing for a moment, he leaned toward the fellow mage, taking the man's hand and removing it from his face. "In Tevinter, anything between two men is… simply pleasure. I don't know how you do it here in Ferelden, but…" The Tevene huffed, clenching Trevelyan's hand. The faint green glow radiating between their palms.
Trevelyan pursed his lips. He felt a pang in his chest; that perhaps Dorian might just reject him if he doesn't stop talking. He gripped Dorian's hand fervently, sitting up and twisting himself to face the man before him, a confident look in his eye. "I...I've liked you since we got stuck in the future together. I couldn't have made it out without you." His voice was wracked with nervousness and his drunken drawl, eyes locked onto Dorian's.
"Why avoid me if you've felt this way?" Dorian's mind was a jumbled mess now. This was going so quickly, he didn't know what to make of it. Trevelyan groaned, his head pounding. He sat up too quick. Shifting, he huffed. " 'Cause I was afraid of what you would'a thought. I dunno how it all works in Tevinter, so… yeah." Dorian frowned, sighing as he slouched in his chair. "We're not in Tevinter are we, Herald?" He spoke gently, his hold on Trevelyan's hand softening. "I... guess you're right. So you don't object to ma' feelings, Dorian?" The Herald lazily smiled, moving his right hand up to rub his forehead. "Of course not. I'm just used to men who simply desired fun, I've learned not to get attached. But… I suppose I can try and break that habit." The Tevene gave a faint smile.
The pleasant moment didn't go on for much longer, as the Herald retched, a dry heave leaving his throat, slapping a hand over his mouth. "I think I need t' lay down again." He chuckled awkwardly, his body shaking from nearly losing his guts. Dorian stood quickly, helping Trevelyan to lay back down. "I sure hope you remember this, because I like you too." Borian brushed the hair out of the fellow mage's face, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I wish you weren't drunk." He smirked, resting his hands on his sides. "I'll get you some water."
Trevelyan smiled. "You'll just need t' remind this Herald of Andraste who exactly holds his heart, if I do forget."
Dorian chuckled, looking over his shoulder from the doorway. "I'll be sure to do that."