Author's Note: I know, I know. Every time I try to write some good smutty nonsense, it gets messed up by stupid thinking. Hopefully the thinky interludes make the smutty nonsense parts even better. 😉

It rained.

It rained and rained and rained and fucking rained some more. It was maddening. She'd had wet socks and a clammy chill for close to a week. And every time she shifted her sword belts, a little gap would momentarily appear between the plates of armor over her shoulder blades, dumping little rivulets of freezing cold rainwater down her spine.

Mira was still awake, listening to Sera's snores and the accursed rain and hoping that Harding, Cremisius, and Iron Bull hadn't been waylaid.

Two nights ago they'd received a message by Harding's messenger falcon, Princess. It was a description of the trail she'd found, in Harding's neat, cramped handwriting, and a sketch of the route. Mira, Sera, and Cole had turned sharply west and south, and made for what was hopefully the meeting point. (That wretched bird then spent the next two days biting, clawing, and squawking at her, not to mention regurgitating slimy pellets full of mouse bones and fur. Mira was forced to assume that Princess was so named in an attempt at irony on Scout Harding's part.)

They pitched their tents in the cold, muddy darkness by the light of a full moon and a half-drowned campfire.

She was considering dragging herself out of their tent and surveying their surroundings again when she heard the Iron Bull's unmistakable voice from off in the distance, and Krem's equally distinct one responding.

"Thank the Maker." She sighed, sliding carefully out from between the sleeping forms of Cole and Sera and fumbling with her boots, which had spent all night at the threshold of the tent, being rained upon.

By the time she had gotten herself sorted out and exited the tent, they were very nearly upon them, having crested a low hill in the foggy darkness. The small, bedraggled form of Lace Harding was in the lead, Iron Bull and Krem on either side of the packhorse behind her.

"Good evening, Inquisitor." Harding called out, and as she did, Princess soared out of the copse of trees alongside them and landed, squawking and flapping, on her gloved, outstretched hand.

"And a lovely one it is, too." Mira said, smiling tautly. "You made good time."

"We're lucky the moon is full." Harding said, giving her a nod and a crooked smile.

"Inquisitor. Glad to see you're still in one piece." Krem said, stepping forward and shaking her hand.

"Same to you, Lieutenant." She said, clapping him on the well-armored shoulder.

At that moment, Cole's blonde, disheveled head poked out from under the tent flap. He blinked sleepily at them.

"Hello Scout Harding and Lieutenant Cremisius and The Iron Bull." He called.

"Hey, kid." Bull said, giving him a little wave. Then he turned to her.

"Inquisitor." He intoned, looking down at her evenly and extending one huge hand. She took it, her own hand nearly disappearing into his.

"Bull." She said, nodding, feeling her heart starting to hammer against her ribs. He released her hand.

Mira turned back toward the fire, silently cursing at herself. If she was blushing, she was going to throw herself off the next available cliff.

"The kettle's in the coals and there's still tea, and biscuits." She said. "And a lovely damp log to sit on."

Krem snorted, rifling in their horse's saddlebag.

"A damp log and a cold biscuit have never looked better." He said, flashing her a wry half-smile.

Mira woke from a half-formed nightmare about grasping, hungry corpses to find that Sera had thrown a very bony arm over her and was muttering, angrily, in her sleep.

"...Fucksakes." Mira murmured, carefully moving Sera's arm back to where it belonged.

"Arse biscuits." Sera snarled, still firmly asleep.

She turned over onto her stomach with some difficulty. They had a tough day ahead of them. The signs Harding had located suggested their missing soldiers were taken by a band of Avvar tribesmen. There was no telling what the Avvar were after, or if their captives were dead or alive. If it was a ransom they wanted, they had yet to inform the Inquisition directly. If they had merely wanted something to kill, there were plenty of easier targets in nearby Fisher's End. Had their men and women unwittingly ventured into some forbidden territory? Blasphemed against the Avvar gods? Called someone's mother a naughty word?

The hazy faces of the missing soldiers floated through her mind, snippets of their voices. Some of them she'd met only briefly, others she knew quite well. All of them had been with the Inquisition since before Haven was destroyed. They'd survived where so many others had fallen, put aside grief and fear. Stood with her and her cause, trusted her, laughed and fought and drank and rebuilt. Right before she sent them all off into the southern wilds to die.

Mira caught herself, silenced the thought. She turned again, face up now, staring at the ceiling of the tent. A memory appeared suddenly, with all the subtlety of a rock to the temple.

This was what Bull had been talking about, she realized.

"When it's someone you care about, you give them what they need." Had been his exact words. At the time, she'd assumed that this was his over-dramatic way of telling her that she needed laid. And that had certainly been accomplished.

But it seemed that his meaning was a little deeper than that. She needed the shift in dynamics as well as the diversion. Bull took the reins of control right out of her hands and tied her to the furniture with them. She had trusted him previously, of course, or the whole affair would never have gotten off the ground. But in allowing herself to be made totally vulnerable, to submit to him with the promise that he would never push her too far, a sort of wordless understanding had appeared between them.

It surprised her. And it felt fucking great, on a number of levels.

What she needed was to be relieved of responsibility, a brief respite from holding people's lives and deaths in her hands. The careful dance of tension and release, danger and safety, did something beneficial for her psyche. Bull was shouldering some of that weight for her, in a way that she didn't quite understand. She was no stranger to the idea of taking a casual lover, and had also experienced a few romances. This was something...else. But she liked it.

Mira sighed. Now was not the time for these thoughts. She was the Inquisitor and tomorrow was important. Now was time to be sleeping.

Mira turned with some difficulty, inadvertently putting a knee into Cole's ribs. He whimpered. She winced. At last, she found a comfortable position.

Naturally, the moment this was accomplished, Sera's aggressive snoring began again.

Jaw clenched, head pounding, Mira slithered out from between her two companions and once again pulled on her sodden boots. At least it had stopped raining.

Extricating herself from the tent, she saw Bull's distinctive silhouette by the fire, his back to her. She froze. It was definitely too late to turn back; he had most certainly heard her.

But why shouldn't she sit with Bull? He was a trusted ally, a friend, and he told a damn good story. She wanted to talk to Bull. She liked Bull, dammit.

Mira approached, and he turned, light glinting off his eyepatch.

"Inquisitor, welcome." He said quietly, patting the ground beside him, which she saw was covered by a pine bough. He was sitting on the dry(ish) foliage and leaning back against the log, boots kicked up before the fire, ankles and arms crossed, an expansive cloak wrapped around him. Bull could look relaxed and nonchalant in seemingly any setting.

She sat, expelling a long, heavy sigh, letting her head fall back, looking up at the stars. It was the first night they'd had on this trip when it hadn't been too cloudy to see them.

"Rough night?" He asked casually, looking over at her.

"Between Sera elbowing me in the throat and snoring in my ear, and Cole's night terrors, it hasn't been a restful few days, no."

Bull looked down at her, putting his head on one side.

"What does Cole, of all of us, have to be afraid of?" He murmured.

Mira put her throbbing head in her hands.

"Two nights ago he shook me awake in a panic, and asked me if I thought horses really enjoyed running, or if we were forcing them to do so against their wills."

Iron Bull blew out a long breath between pursed lips.

"Last night he woke up screaming because my great-great-great uncle Tamerlane was poisoned by Duke DeMontesque, on account of his torrid affair with Lady Cecily Fontaine-DeMontesque. Not out of jealousy, evidently, but because if Cecily dropped the Duke, he would have found himself back in the ass end of the Anderfels instead of at the royal court in Val Royeaux. This was about, oh, 140 years ago."

Iron Bull frowned, blinking his one good eye.

"I told him that the Trevellyans are a noble house, and as such murder is not that uncommon of a way to go in my family. I don't think that consoled him much."

Iron Bull sighed.

"It's a damn good thing he's not sleeping in my tent." He said dryly. "First phase of Ben Hassrath training had enough murder to keep him awake for the rest of his life."

"Mmm. I just hope he never finds out what happened to my cousin Marco."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, listening to the crackling of the fire and the soft breathing of the sleeping horses, the wind rustling through the trees. Bull shifted, throwing one corner of his cloak over her shoulders.

Mira pulled it around herself, suddenly, inexplicably nervous. She sidled in closer to him. Bull was perpetually warm, so warm that she could feel it from several inches away. It would have been easy to lean against him, but...this was not the time. She let her head fall back against the log again, sighing.

"We don't have anything on the Avvar. We don't know if our soldiers are alive or dead." She intoned quietly.

Bull looked down at her from above. He didn't look happy.

"We have a hot trail. In fact...the trail is so hot..."

She turned toward him, brow furrowing.

"...We're walking into a trap." She finished for him.

"Yep. Sure looks that way."

"Ah. Good to know."

"All the more reason for you to get some sleep." He motioned with his head, back toward the edge of the camp. "Take my tent. There's nobody in there. When I'm in there there's no room for anybody else."

Mira opened her mouth then closed it. Then opened it.

Bull shrugged.

"I'm happy enough by the fire, boss. Don't worry about it."

Under different circumstances she might have objected, but at the moment her head was pounding, her eyes burning from lack of sleep and the smoke from damp firewood. She sighed, then stood, his cloak slipping off of her.

"Thanks Bull. Really."

"Hey, no problem." He said. She reached out a hand. He clasped it. His palm was rough with callouses but pleasantly warm.

"Goodnight Bull."

"Nice talking with you, boss." He said.