A/N: So before I get started with this chapter, I want to give a HUGE shout-out to Marvel'sWhovian for beta reading for me.
6 of you left me 7 reviews that made me SUPER excited to get this chapter up. Thank you OnyxDrake, LadyDragon1316, dekicobee, DemonKingAura, Guest, and Tharosis2442!
And thanks to everyone following the story so far! I hope you enjoy this chapter (the longest one yet)!
"Seriously, I can't believe that worked," Varric said over his third beer. Noticing that Dorian and the Inquisitor were both out, he signaled to Cabot for another round.
"I can," Bull said, looking at Dorian. "Him playing some trumped-up vint? Not a stretch."
"Lots've Tevinter, this one." Sera tugged at Dorian's intentionally ostentatious robe, only to have him swat her hand away. "Fancy pants."
Ignoring Sera, Dorian addressed Iron Bull. "Like you playing some mindless brute?"
"I call 'em like I see 'em. And a ben hassarath sees everything."
"Careful, Tiny. Nightengale might take that as a challenge."
"Bring it."
This conversation was taking a turn for the disastrous. As Cabot brought them their new beers, Lynne tried to steer the subject away from a potential spy-off. "Varric, you should have seen the looks on their faces! I've never seen mother at a loss for words, and father actually apologized. It was amazing!"
"Ppht," Sera tried to hold in a laugh, but still wound up cackling a little. "Stuck up arse apologizing. And here you are, just people, right? Puts him down where he belongs. All humble-like. Sounds like fun!"
"Indeed," Dorian rose his glass. "To 'putting stuck up arses where they belong.'"
The whole party drained their glasses. Sera let out a belch that rumbled the floor and silenced half the tavern.
"Bull!" Krem yelled from the other side of the bar. "What have I told you about intimidating drunk soldiers?"
Bull growled, but Sera just laughed in response.
The Inquisitor snorted some of her drink out her nose, choking at the fizzy sensation in places it didn't belong.
"It's alright, Inquisitor, let it out," Varric patted her on the back and handed her a handkerchief from his pocket. Blowing her nose didn't make things much better, but it helped.
Bull took another drink and grimaced. "Weak," he groaned. "This is a celebration! We need something better than this piss water!"
Varric seemed legitimately offended. "Well, what would you suggest, Tiny?"
Bull's lips curled into a truly terrifying smile. "Don't you worry about it. Next round is on me." With that, he signaled Cabot to meet him at the other end of the bar, and therefore, out of earshot.
"Varric, what have you gotten us into?"
"I was just wondering that myself."
Dorian laughed. "What could you two possibly be concerned about? We've slain a dragon, and you're cowering in your boots over a glass of liquid? You should be ashamed."
"After that poison Bull had me drink to celebrate slaying said dragon? I'm not scared; I'm terrified."
"Ever drink with a qunari, Sparkler?"
Dorian wrinkled his nose. "In case you've forgotten, my diminutive friend, qunari and the people of my homeland don't exactly get along."
"Exactly. You don't know a thing about their drinking habits. So, let's talk this through." Varric spoke slowly, as though talking to a child. "You're usually the first to point out how large and brutish they're built. Now, take a moment to think about what kind of drink it would take to get someone like that drunk."
Dorian's eyes widened. "Oh, sweet Maker."
Varric patted him on the arm. "Now you understand."
Quietly, almost discreetly, Sera slid off her chair. "Good luck with that, yeah?" Before the others could respond, she dashed up the stairs and out of sight. She had probably taken refuge in her room. Damn rogue.
Varric, Dorian, and the Inquisitor all looked at each other.
"Is it too late to follow suit?" Dorian asked.
"And keep our dignity?" Varric watched Cabot pass Iron Bull five tankards of mystery alcohol. "Afraid so."
When Iron Bull began making his way back to them, the sense of impending doom became almost palpable. "Any last requests, Varric?"
"Inquisitor, if I die, I want you to take care of Bianca for me. Unless you die."
"I don't intend to. Dorian?"
"I want a golden statue erected in my honor on the battlements."
"Of course you do. I'll be sure to include the bucket you died over."
"Don't you dare. All the best legends were born from excluding key facts."
"Now here's a real drink!" Iron Bull slammed their drinks in front of them, making the dark liquid slosh and foam. It looked like something Lynne had seen in a Circle cauldron once. "Where's Sera?"
"Gone," Lynne groaned.
"Well, more for me," Bull shrugged. "Drink up, boys (and Dorian, of course)!"
Dorian nudged the Inquisitor with his elbow. "See, Bull knows I'm no boy. I'm a god."
Lynne giggled.
"That would have come off a lot more cocky if you weren't staring at your drink like it was about to grow teeth and bite your nose off," Varric teased with a laugh.
"Varric, after all the things we've seen, do you sincerely doubt it could?"
"Point." The dwarf shrugged. "But in the end, a free drink is a free drink."
"Here here!" Iron Bull bellowed, raising his glass. "To freedom!"
The others looked at each other before hesitantly followed suit.
"To a well-enacted plan," Varric winked.
"And the dashing young man who played his part perfectly," Dorian added.
"To free drinks" the Inquisitor said loudly, then muttered, "However ominous they may be."
The four companions pounded their pints to the counter and drank deeply.
Maker, it burned like Andraste's pyre all the way down, but Lynne couldn't let herself stop; this was a challenge of her toughness.
Dorian sputtered next to her, but it only strengthened her resolve. She finished her drink and slid it away in disgust. The acidic, hoppy flavor lingered.
"Well?" Bull asked as the Inquisitor wiped her mouth on her sleeve, hoping against hope to get the taste off her lips.
"That was-"
"Say, isn't that Curly?"
The company turned and stared in a very indiscrete manner. The room seemed to tilt a little with the swift head movement, so the Inquisitor grasped the counter to steady herself.
There, wedged up against the wall of a corner stall, was the Commander. While he still wore his usual breeches and furry maroon coat, he lacked any armor. It struck Lynne that this was the first time she saw him in anything less than full breast plate. However, if he was trying to avoid notice, he was doing a very poor job of it; soldiers, scouts, and civilians alike cast furtive glances at him as he contemplated whatever was in his tankard. The only person who dared approach him was Scout Harding, but he sent her away with a few words none of them could quite make out.
Harding sat down with Krem and some of the Chargers for a round of Diamondback, but kept glancing back at the Commander as though concerned.
"I've never seen him here before." Iron Bull thumped a finger on the counter as he thought. "And I'm here a lot."
"Wait, you don't live here?" the Inquisitor asked.
"Boss, I've been a ben hassarath for a while, and I fought vints even longer. If there's one thing you learn, it's that being predictable is death."
"Being predictable is… But you're here all the ti-"
"Confused, foggy, insides twisting, but Maker, why does it hurt?"
The Inquisitor was on her feet with a ball of electricity in hand before she realized the voice in her ear had been Cole. She staggered a little as she found her way back to her seat. Varric set Bianca down to help steady her. She found it a little comforting that the dwarf was as quick on the draw as she was.
"Kid, you should really be careful who you do that appearing from thin air trick to. You might actually get hurt… Or give someone a heart attack."
"Bit of a toss-up with us, really."
Cole's eyes widened. "But I'm not scary. I want to help."
Varric sighed. "You're missing the point. You know what, tomorrow, we'll talk about it."
"What were you saying earlier, Cole? About hurting?" A crazy idea occurred to the Inquisitor as she glanced at Cullen, who quickly looked away and took a long swig of his drink. "Who's thoughts were those?"
"Cullen's, of course."
Lynne's stomach did a summersault. He couldn't possibly be bothered by the stunt she and Dorian pulled, right?
"What's wrong, Boss? Did something happen?"
"I don't… I don't think so."
Varric and Dorian exchanged a glance and cracked identical grins.
"Interesting…" Varric fingered the coat pocket he kept his pen in, and the Inquisitor suddenly felt very bad for Cullen.
"That poor, stupid man," Dorian said, shaking his head.
"You should go to him." It took Lynne a moment to realize Cole had meant her.
"Me?" she squeaked, and Iron Bull gave her a look. "Why me? Aren't you the one who helps people?"
Cole shook his head. "I think you're better than me for this hurt."
Lynne's heart seemed to skip a beat. Her? Was this actually about her? It couldn't be. Cullen never responded to her advances, other than the occasional adorable blustering when her flirting became too bold. And she was a mage. She may not know much about the Commander's life before the Inquisition, but rumors about the ex-templar's past circulated Skyhold. It seemed everyone knew different versions of the story, but none of them painted a pretty picture when it came to his relations with mages.
Still, Dorian, Varric, and Cole all watched Lynne expectantly, and some sort of understanding seemed to spark in Bull's eyes.
"You heard him, Boss. It's up to you." Bull suddenly shoved the Inquisitor off her seat, forcing her to stumble forward to catch her footing. By the time she recovered, she was halfway toward Cullen's booth, and when she met his surprised gaze, she knew there was no turning back. It took far more focus than she ever wanted to admit not to stumble her way to the table, but the empty mugs already there suggested that Cullen may be a bit too tipsy to notice anyway.
"Inquisitor." Cullen stood and bowed as she ungracefully plopped onto the seat in front of him.
The decorum, while not unexpected, still hurt a little. "Cullen, we're getting drunk in a tavern. I think we can drop the formalities for now."
Cullen sat and sighed. "You may be right about that. What should I call you, then? Lady Trevelyan?"
The Inquisitor winced. "Cullen, have you met my mother? Because that's the only person I know who goes by that name."
The Commander rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. My lady?"
"No! Maker's sake, you're my friend, not my subordinate."
"Actually, I do work for you."
Ouch. Was that all she was to him? His boss? The Inquisitor? Herald of Andraste? Lady Trevelyan? They were all pretty titles, to be sure, but Lynne hated that fame and power could wall her off from the people she cared about. The people who, truth be told, she wanted to care about her. The grain of the wood suddenly became the center of her focus as she asked herself why she wanted him to see her as a person, without any titles in the way.
"Did I… Did I say something that upset you?"
"No! I just… I would really appreciate it if you called me Lynne. Just this once." She wanted him to address her as an equal. She couldn't justify why; she just needed it.
Cullen hesitated, and Lynne had to look up. He seemed to contemplate it before finally, slowly saying, "If that's what you wish… Lynne."
A thrill ran up and down her spine at the simple word, making her shiver.
"You're cold?" Without waiting for a response, Cullen untied his cloak and leaned across the table to throw it around Lynne's shoulders. He was so close, she could smell the sour beer on his breath, and she was sure she could smell the… whatever Bull had her drink… on hers. His eyes were filled with concern, and, Maker, it did things to her. "If you need a walk back to your quarters…"
"No!"
Cullen's forehead wrinkled, and Lynne realized her mistake instantly. "I mean, no, thank you. Bull's last round did a number on all of us, but as you can see, I'm still perfectly functional." She stood to illustrate her point, but slammed the tops of her legs on the table. "Ooooow,,," She sank back into her chair.
"Perfectly so," Cullen commented with that damn half smile that tugged at the scar on his lip in just the right way.
"Shut. Up."
He did. The Inquisitor rubbed her thighs until the pain (and some of the humiliation) passed.
When she looked back up to the Commander, the concern was back in his gaze. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"Cullen, after everything I've survived, do you really think a little klutziness will kill me?"
"No, but Bull's drinking habits might…" Cullen cast an accusing glare back to her companions, who immediately tried to look like they hadn't been watching intently the whole time. Sera had apparently come back, and Cole kept muttering things to an increasingly smug looking Dorian. Great. "Dangers aside, perhaps you should get back to your friends. They seem to miss you."
"Sod them, they're jerks."
"What about Dorian?"
The mage wriggled an eyebrow at Lynne from across the room.
"Especially him."
Cullen rubbed the back of his neck again. "Did you, uh, did the two of you have a fight?"
Lynne waved the notion off. "Of course not. We-" We. Wait just a minute, was that actually the problem? "Cullen… You know Dorian and I aren't actually together, right?"
"You're… You're not? "
On the other side of the room, Cole said something and the rest of her companions started laughing. Fantastic.
"It was just a show for my parents. Dorian's one of my best friends, but we're not exactly, uh, compatible that way."
"I like men, you oaf!" Dorian shouted from the bar, and Sera's fit of laughter brought her to the floor.
Cullen flushed a fascinating shade of crimson. "I don't… I'm not sure what you're implying," he called back.
"Of course you aren't," Varric replied. "That wouldn't be nearly as good of a story!"
Aghast, Cullen raked his fingers through his hair and tried to come up with a response. Lynne couldn't help the thought that he looked adorable this flustered. Even so…
"Well," she used the table to stand as smoothly as possible, "I think I've accidentally drawn enough attention to you for one night."
Was it her imagination, or did he look disappointed?
No, she was reading far too much into things. She was a mage, and he a templar. If she had learned anything from her ill-advised crush on one of the templars from her old Circle, it was that certain lines could never be crossed.
She needed to get away before she got her hopes up any further.
In her rush, she stumbled a little while passing Cullen, and, at that exact moment, Cullen reached out to pull her back. Balance gone, and tipsy templar strength adding momentum and direction to her fall, Lynne soon found herself sitting on the very unsettled man's lap.
"I, uh, I'm so- I didn't mean to- I shouldn't have-" As Cullen tried to find his words, Lynne looked helplessly at Dorian, who's grin would've cracked his face if it had been any wider. With a crude, squeezing hand gesture, Dorian mouthed "You owe me."
Maker help her, she did.
Cullen had one hand planted firmly on the table, and the other glued to his seat, like he didn't know what to do with them.
How was this going to work exactly?
Unable to meet his gaze, even though she really wanted to, Lynne focused on how big his hand was compared to hers. She focused on the way his breath caught when she placed her hand on his, and the tingles that ran up her whole arm when he responded by locking fingers.
His strong grip and knuckles made rough by scars led her to wonder what the rest of him might look like; a thought she pushed into the far corners of her mind.
Dammit, Lynne couldn't not look any longer. She turned in Cullen's lap to find herself face-to-face with him. This close up, she could see the stubble from neglected morning rituals, the very slight creases permanently etched in his forehead, and those eyes.
Now she understood what Warden Blackwall meant when he said Cullen had the look of a man who had seen too much. Even bewildered like this, his gaze was so deep, calculating, wary. He had clearly been through hell and back, and Lynne doubted he would ever recount the details. Yet… Yet, he had managed to become the kind, strong, strangely innocent man she knew today. What kind of person was he before, that he could be so good even after seeing the worst?
They were so close, their noses almost touched. She wanted to lean in so badly. She wanted to find out what his lips felt like against hers, what those muscles felt like with his arms curled around her, whether he would make nearly as passionate of a lover as a fighter. She had this crazy urge to plaster her body against his right then and there until there was nothing between them, and that urge terrified her.
Cullen leaned forward, and Lynne came so close to giving in. But, she pulled back, heart hammering wildly in her chest.
The Commander frowned, confusion clouding his eyes.
Lynne was overreacting. He hadn't been about to kiss her. There was no way. But no amount of rational thought made that urge, that longing, any more bearable. She needed to get away. She needed to end this situation right now, before she did something that damaged their working relationship. But she still needed to pay Dorian back…
Dammit.
Cullen cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably underneath her. "Inquisitor, we should-"
Lynne placed his hand on her boob.
Everything seemed to freeze. Lynne couldn't hear anything but her heart pounding in her throat. She couldn't feel anything but the warmth of his hand. She failed to stifle a moan as he gently, instinctually squeezed, making her arch ever so slightly into his hand.
Cullen's eyebrows jumped up. When his gaze finally lowered to inspect exactly what he had squeezed, his eyes widened and his face flushed a color Lynne had never seen on an actual person before.
The whole tavern broke out in cheers and cat calls. Maryden didn't even have her instrument in hand. Sunderland leaned over the rails, pumped his fist, and yelled "You get'im, Inquisitor!" Even Cabot almost smiled, absent-mindedly rubbing a rag over the already thoroughly dry glass he had just cleaned.
Oops.
"Sorry! I'm so sorry, Cullen!" Lynne pushed off the poor Commander to stagger back to her friends as quickly as she could. She tripped over Sera (who was crying at this point) and Varric (who had apparently fallen off his seat laughing), but Dorian caught her in a jovial twirl that almost made her sick.
"Lynne, darling, that was perfect! It was more than I could ever have hoped for!"
Cullen sat motionless on his seat until Harding walked up and clapped him on the back. "You and the Inquisitor, huh? Nice."
The poor man took one look around the tavern and bolted out of there.
A new peel of laughter ran through Lynne's companions, but guilt twisted her gut. Poor Cullen.
"Heartbeat like a drum, pounding a rhythm that commands, soothes, tempts. Can't act, but can't drown it out, and he's not sure he wants to anymore. No more pain, only the drum." Cole smiled at the Inquisitor. "I knew you would help."
And then he was gone.
Iron Bull shook his head. "I'll never get used to that. Creepy."
"He means well," Varric said as he helped Sera off the floor.
Iron Bull grunted, but offered no other acknowledgement.
But what did all of that drum talk mean? What exactly was Cullen feeling right now?
Iron Bull rubbed the fur on Cullen's cloak. "Looks like you've got yourself a trophy, Boss."
Holy shit, Lynne forgot about the cloak! She took it off as quickly as her fumbling fingers could manage and laid it on the counter. "What am I going to do? I need to give it back, but there's no way I can visit his quarters after all this!"
Bull shrugged. "Hang it on your mantle?'
"Bull!"
Varric sighed. "Don't worry. I've got this." He grabbed the article of clothing in question, but Dorian's hand shot out to hold him back.
"Are you sure you don't want to wait until tomorrow, Varric? He can't be in a good mood."
The dwarf jerked his arm away. "Let me put it this way: I knew Curly back when he was Knight-Captain of Kirkwall, and I've never seen him like this. I wouldn't miss a chance to see more for a publishing deal in Val Royeaux." As he left, the Inquisitor could have sworn she heard him mutter "which I might get, with all this material."
Bull waited for Varric to leave before bellowing "Looks like we have something else to drink to! Another round, Cabot!"
"Bronto shite!" Sera cursed when Iron Bull prevented her escape with a huge, one-armed bear hug.
Lynne and Dorian exchanged a smile. Sera's terror almost made the second round worth it.
Almost.
And there's our trade. =)
I still want to post a little epilogue, but the main plot of this story is over.
Please let me know what you thought! Every time I get a review, I "squee" a little. When I "squee," the people around me think I'm crazy.
Make me look crazy; leave a review!
