It started with an off-hand comment from Hawke to Varric as they were sharing drinks in the Herald's Rest. She had just returned with the Inquisitor and the Grey Warden Alistair from the Western Approach, and had been kicking up her feet to try and forget everything she had seen out there. Varric himself hadn't gone, much to his initial displeasure, but after hearing from Hawke what had gone down, he found he could reluctantly be glad about it. Demons? Grey Wardens sacrificing themselves?

He knew she was thinking about Carver, and that made it all the worse, wondering if he was okay—or if he had somehow found his way into that mess.

And then she said, "…what's that Tevinter mage's name—DeLorean? D…D—it starts with a D, damnit…"

Varric grinned. "You mean Dorian?"

"Yeah! That one," Hawke tilted the mouth of her bottle towards him. A soft frown was upon her face. "Him. He's got a nice ass."

The dwarf at her side tried not to let his smile grow too big. He rolled the bottom of his glass against the wooden bartop, watching the ice clink inside. "Not gonna exactly ask how you've seen it under all those layers, but…you do know he doesn't swing your way, right?"

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. And I'm not exactly on the market, but I can still state a fact, right?" She took another swig, mouth pinched in a frown. She shrugged. "So he's got a nice ass. That's all. Not trying to say anything more…"

Varric tried not to laugh. He waved for Cabot to pour him another glass, and tapped his fingers against the grain of the bartop. "Well, if you ask me…word around Skyhold is that Curly's got the best ass this side of the Frostbacks. So…"

"Curly…" Hawke hummed. "Wait, who's that again?" The mage blinked, frown deepening as she squinted her eyes and thought about it. "That's…Cullen?" She looked to Varric and scrunched up her nose. "Ew, what? Him? Hell no." She shook her head quickly, face pinched and squeezed shut and that time, Varric did laugh. "Maybe I'm biased, but nah. If you asked me, Dorian's is much better. No contest."

Varric grinned, taking the new glass Cabot offered him with a thanks. "I wonder how many people agree with you," he murmured, and took a sip. He paused, thinking about it.

And then his grin widened. "…no, actually, I really wonder how many people agree with you—maybe we should find out. Take an official vote on the subject."

Hawke blinked at her best friend. She started to grin back. "…what, like, go around actually asking people who's got the best ass of the Inquisition?"

Varric's eyes alit with good humor as he looked to her. "Exactly. We'll call it, the 'Inquis-ass-ion.'"

And Hawke laughed. She slapped at the table and declared it made, and so it began.

For a long time, they managed to keep the entire thing secret. The only way it spread was by whispers over mealtime, bowed heads walking down stone hallways, and occasionally, hushed but heated debates between scouts and soldiers who were very vehement upon who they thought had the better ass.

Even the mage students in the tower caught wind of it and passed in their votes—which then brought Vivienne's attention to the entire thing, who, to everyone's great surprise, participated, too.

From there, it reached nearly everyone of the Inner Circle. Sera tried desperately to rig the results, but Varric and Hawke managed to keep her away from any of the official tallies. Dorian and Cullen, of course, were the two who were absolutely not allowed to know—although they certainly did get suspicious with all the secret mumblings that went on around them.

The vote only came to a head when the Inquisitor found out about it (from Cassandra who was politely refusing to participate, stating that, "We have much more important matters to focus on this than this…drivel,") and so, left afloat without any idea who to vote had the better ass, he tried to discreetly talk to his two female advisors about the entire thing. Should he vote for his best friend? Or should he vote for the Commander of his armies? How do you even decide these things? It felt ridiculously stressful for no reason at all.

Unfortunately, trying to talk to Josephine and Leliana about this around the war table while both Cullen and Dorian were there was, as he would find out, not wise.

"They won't know who you voted for," Leliana pointed out, whispering to him.

"But I know who I voted for. How do I decide…?" Ruen whined. The tallies were almost finished. He was one of the last few who needed to vote, and then it would be over—and then finally everyone could know who really had the Inquisassion. And by this point, people were ready for the official verdict.

Josephine shook her head. "Do not think so hard about this, Inquisitor. It is just for fun—neither of them are supposed to even know."

"…wait, neither of who are supposed to know…?" Dorian asked, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at the three huddled heads at the other side of the table. The awkward silence that followed—Josephine clearly hadn't been expecting to have been heard—made the mage shift his weight and look to an equally puzzled Cullen. "Strange. Do you get the feeling we're the ones who aren't supposed to know something, Commander?"

Cullen exhaled softly, straightening up. He rested a hand on the pummel of the sword at his side. "Yes, quite. In fact…" He sizes the three guilty-looking faces up. He frowns. "I've been having that feeling for quite a while." From his men, from his coworkers…just thinking about it made his frown deepen. He hadn't been expecting that Dorian was also left in the dark about whatever was going on. "Just what is it that I—that we—haven't been allowed to know about?"

Ruen looked the guiltiest, with wide eyes, and a caught-puppy frown. His shoulders bunched, and then fell. "There's been—"

Leliana whacked his arm with the back of her hand. Her face was the most unreadable, giving absolutely nothing away—in fact, it hardly looked like she had struck the mage at her side at all, save for Ruen wincing and hissing and clutching his arm. Josephine covered her mouth politely with a hand to hide her amused smile that threatened to break into giggles.

"Leliana, don't hit the Inquisitor."

"Sorry, Commander." But she was clearly not sorry. Ruen pouted at her. She cleared her throat. "Now, it's nothing of import. I'm sure we have much more important matters to discuss. There's the matter of Sera's new…suggestion…"

But Cullen had to know. He shifted his weight, looked to Dorian, who also looked back, amused as much as curious, and he turned his gaze to the other three again.

"If this is that trivial, then why is it so critical that you keep it a secret?" Dorian asked, arms still crossed over his chest. "Can't we know about it? It would only take two minutes…"

Finally, Josephine sighed. She looked to the other two. Ruen looked back. Leliana didn't look over at all. But she knew Leliana would not strike her in the same fashion as she did Ruen; the two were too close of friends for that.

So with that safety net in place, she came clean.

"The…Inquisition is currently…inquiring after another measure," she began, if awkwardly. She shifted her weight, her quill pen twisted between her fingers as she thought of how to explain this. "It's—" She paused. She frowned. She tried again. "—well, you see, we are trying to—" She stopped. She swallowed. She flushed, and she bowed her head. "—oh, how can I put this…"

And so finally, at a loss for words, because even as a master of language, there simply wasn't any way to put this eloquently, she decided to put it simply.

She set down her board and quill, and held up her hands, as if calling the two on the other side of the table to imagine what she was going to say between them. She glanced at both of them across from her. She took a careful breath. And then she uttered two words she promised herself she would never utter again: "Ass poll."

And once Dorian and Cullen heard that, they stared with shock at Josephine. Cullen flushed a brilliant, bright red and Dorian—well, Dorian laughed.

"What, you mean between the Commander and myself?" He gasped. And oh, immediately, he wanted to know who he should thank for thinking of this delightful poll that they could participate in. He also declared he wanted to place his own vote, which made Cullen all the more red, spluttering at the mage's back as he turned to go and do just that.

"You can't be serious," Cullen gasped at the others as soon as Dorian left. That's really what had been transpiring behind their back? Who had the better ass?

"Oh, we're very serious, Commander," Leliana responded, and the corners of her lips were hiked up in amusement. "You should vote, too. The poll's set to close this evening, so you'd best hurry up and think of who you want to vote for…" She looked to the other two advisors and grinned, winking. "…it's all harmless play, of course. No one's going to tattle or even see who you vote for—so you could vote for yourself, for all we care. Just have fun with it."

And though he struggled at first to even form words, settling for rubbing his face and sighing, "Maker's breath…" at the whole thing, having "fun" with it was actually exactly what he decided to do.

Because while Dorian would never tell anyone, since they all assumed he voted for himself, and that was fine by him—he had indeed very much voted for the Commander.

But Cullen?

Well, Cullen placed the vote that won Dorian the competition. Leliana said to have "fun" and he did.

He voted twice.

Krissey's Notes: There isn't much to say here. My brain's kind of fried; this was so inexplicably hard to churn out? But I guess it's here so, WOO. Finally, right?

Also, this is purely just for kicks and giggles; any OOC-ness I apologize for and politely ask that you forgive me for. This was just for fun. And also for some more CullenxDorian development.

Also, I'm terribly sorry for the delay. Please forgive me.

I love you all.