Predictably, Sera was totally shit-faced before Krem and Harding had even returned, trailed by the Chargers, Dorian, and a bookish little dwarven woman he recognized as the Inquisitor's new Arcanist.
"Where's whatsisname? And the other guy? And the one that doesn't like me?" She slurred, outraged, at the group as they filtered in.
"Warden Blackwall is still in the field, searching for artifacts, Solas and Vivienne are too busy climbing up their own magical-theory-backsides, and everyone else is in the war room grilling the Inquisitor." Harding said.
"Buncha twats." Sera observed succinctly.
Dalish and Stitches wandered over, clapping him on the back before they went for the cask of maraas-lok. Krem sat down next to Sera, across from him.
"Where's Sunshine?" Krem asked, surveying the bustling tavern.
Bull spread his hands.
"He's pissed at me. Not sure why."
"Because you aren't nice." Sera said, then cackled wildly.
"Hmm. He's got you there, chief." Krem said, nodding.
Bull brought a fist down on the table, making everyone's mugs jump.
"Why does everyone keep saying-"
At that moment a raucous cheer went up, and several beer mugs were held aloft in tribute. Mira had just strode in, of course. She was still in the leather breeches she wore under her armor, but she'd found a clean tunic and picked the bits of dried dragon gore out of her hair. She was smiling tautly, a blush on her cheeks. She didn't hate being the center of the attention, but she also hadn't quite learned how to embrace it, either. Cole was behind her, looking squirrelly and worried. She pointed to their group and said something to him, one hand on his shoulder reassuringly. He slunk over toward the Chargers' table and sat dutifully, shoulders drawn up, eyes down.
Cole was afraid of him. Perhaps he'd stumbled upon something unpleasant in his memories-there were a lot of unpleasant shit to choose from. If Cole was slightly more coherent he might be worried about the state secrets that were also tumbling around in his brain.
Mira neared their table, and pulled him away from his thoughts. Her eyes found him, and she arched an eyebrow playfully, her smile transitioning from forced to genuine. And, of course, a little color came to her cheeks. She stepped over the bench and sat, sighing, beside him. She stripped off her gloves and leaned into her elbows.
Bull, thinking like a Ben Hassrath even when he was in his cups, observed a handful of tells just from this moment. One, she was attracted to him and just a little aroused around the edges- his guess was that she'd just gotten a little momentary flash of their last interlude together. Two, she had stopped purposefully sitting anywhere except beside him. Three, she had taken off her omnipresent gloves, at ease, apparently; she had always covered the mark in all but the most intimate situations.
"Welcome to the party, Your Worship. We were just discussing what an arsehole the Chief is."
"Ah. Well, don't stop on my account." She said good-naturedly as Cabot arrived with a round. She was, admittedly, pretty good at sounding casual- despite how she was definitely still thinking about their last encounter. She was fidgeting unconsciously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, then crossing and uncrossing her legs. And blushing furiously. He really had to ask Red to have a talk with the Inquisitor regarding how very transparent she was at times.
"Remember, Krem," Bull said, pulling his attention seamlessly back. Cabot was serving beer to those not feeling up to Qunari liquor, Mira included. "Lady Montilyet does give me the money, then I dispense it to all of you."
Cremisius raised his mug.
"Point taken. You're a gentleman and a scholar, Chief."
"Hmm, yes. That's what I thought."
Mira threw her head back and cackled.
"Krem knows which side his bread is buttered on." She said, clanking tankards with his Lieutenant across the table.
"Damn straight." Krem said.
The sun was setting. Everyone in the tavern seemed to be talking to Mira, one by one. The more pious ones approaching the Herald tentatively, shaking her hand, speaking to her earnestly about the rescue of the missing soldiers. The rest called her Inquisitor and grilled her for details regarding the dragon attack and ensuing battle. She had, once again, pleased just about everyone without even trying. It seemed far-fetched to think that Andraste was involved, but luck, at least, was certainly with her.
The bard arrived and was working her way through an impressively long list of songs involving the slaying of dragons. Harding and Krem were making eyes at each other with increasing abandon the more inebriated they became. Sera was creeping around under the tables trying to tie people's bootlaces together. Dorian retrieved Cole from where he'd been moping and brought him over, putting a mug in his hands.
"The end is not the end. It's all wrong, everyone is acting wrong, looks wrong. An explosion of color. We thought we had a choice, but it was all the same. All wondering, wandering, wanting, lead here, for what?" Cole sighed.
"Mmn, yes. Drink this, dear boy." Dorian said, patting Cole on the head with a bejeweled hand.
"But why?" Cole said, snapping back to reality and gazing, dubiously, into his mug. "It smells terrible."
That would be the maraas-lok, then. Dorian was certainly giving the poor kid quite an introduction to the world of hard beverages.
"It will make you feel, erm, better? Possibly?" Dorian said, gesturing vaguely, a flush on his cheeks. He sat next to him with less grace than usual, putting a companionable arm around Cole and the other around Harding.
Mira, still seated next to him, covered her mouth with one hand. She leaned, or rather swayed, toward him. Bull inclined his head down to hear her over the din.
"Is it alright for him to drink that?" She asked, her voice low, a little rough from Cabot's truly awful homebrew.
"Ah, well. Um. He's among friends, anyway." Bull said, enjoying the feeling of her breath so close to his ear.
Mira chuckled, casting her eyes downward, leaning into him further. He had the almost insurmountable desire to scoop her up and deposit her in his lap. Had she been damn near anyone else, he would have.
She looked up at him, half-smiling, cheeks flushed from drink. Her gaze finally settled on his, brown eyes languid, long-lashed. She was beautiful. It gave his memory a pleasant little jog.
He knew what she was thinking. Though she wanted him, she was also intimidated, perhaps even frightened. Her lips shook on his, her hands trembled on his chest. She spoke with bravado she didn't feel. He let her take the lead, let her straddle him, breath hitching, eyes closed, lashes dark on her cheeks. She may have been intimidated, but she was also wet as hell. She kissed him tentatively, warm hands on his face, one thumb tracing his cheekbone, trembling slightly. The emotional intimacy of the moment surprised him, though he didn't show it. She moved carefully, sliding him inside slowly, a little at a time. Carefully still, his hstroking her thighs, up her ribs. finally leaning back, brown eyes half-focused before they fluttered closed, a soft sigh escaping from her parted lips.
Bull cleared his throat, grabbing a mug and the pitcher of maraas-lok, pouring Mira a drink, and himself another one. Nobody had ever had the ability to give him hard-ons at inappropriate moments like she did.
She watched him pour, then looked up again at his face.
"Is it alright for anyone to drink this?" She asked, smiling wryly.
He chuckled, leaning in closer, inclining his head toward her, their lips very close.
"You're among friends as well, my Lady Inquisitor." He murmured.
"Mmm. And I certainly appreciate your...friendship, Bull."
At that moment, Sera half fell across Cole's lap in an attempt to sit down next to him.
"T'Inquisitor's fine'ly inta the hard stuff!" She declared, lifting her own mug high.
Krem, Dorian, and Harding looked up from their own conversation, amused.
"Give us a toast, Chief!" Krem shouted.
He sat back, slipping again into his public role. He arched an eyebrow, grinning.
"To killing a dragon like warriors of legend!" He roared. Half the bar looked over, then raised their glasses, cheering raucously deafeningly. They all drank. The lok burned all the way down into the pit of his stomach. Mira slammed her mug down, coughing.
"Fucksakes, Bull, what do you people put in this?"
"I like it." Cole declared happily, as Dorian poured him another.
"Good." Bull commented. "Put some chest on your chest."
Mira cackled.
"To the Inquisitor!" He roared, and the resultant cheer practically shook the floorboards. They drank. Mira spluttered.
"Augh." She said, wincing.
"Better, right?" He asked, leaning in, feeling the presence of alcohol himself. "After the first one, most of the nerves in your throat are dead."
"That will come in handy later." Dorian said, then dissolved into laughter, pounding his fist on the table.
Cole stood suddenly, almost pushing Sera over and off the bench, eyes wild. She shrieked.
"I understand!" Cole cried, ignoring her. Everyone at their table and the next stopped dead, staring at him. He sat slowly, eyes following figures no one else could see, radiating weirdness in that way only Cole could.
"He pushes her to the edge, but no farther. She tastes the word on her tongue but lets it go. Instead she says his name."
"Kid-" He interjected, eye widening as realization set in, but Cole plowed on, the words coming quickly, almost frantically. Now he really had everyone's attention.
"Tied, but tenderly. He hurts her, just enough. Just...the right way. The hurt takes the real pain away with it. A cascade of color behind closed eyes, the word forgotten, only his name on her lips. Huge hands, so often used to kill, calloused, now calming, now-"
"Cole. Please stop talking." Mira said, looking like she was about to vault over the table and tackle him. Cole's pale eyes finally stopped wandering aimlessly and focused on her face.
"I understand now." He said again, grinning, then looked over at him. "I'm sorry I said you weren't nice, Bull. I didn't realize that she likes it when you tie her up and-"
"Sweet Maker, Cole!" Mira shrieked, cutting him off.
The faces of everyone at the table had gone slack. In fact, half the tavern's mouths had gone slack. People were giving him some monumentally dirty looks. Bull recognized that, were he anything other than Qunari, he probably would have been totally mortified at this point. Or maybe not? Some of those dirty looks were full of unrestrained jealousy. Other people just looked confused. One soldier leaned over to his puzzled friend and explained what had just been revealed. And he used some very lewd gestures.
Bull sat quietly, casually, drinking his lok. A few pairs of frustrated eyes beat down on him-of course, there was a sizable contingent of soldiers whose amorous dreams about Mira had just been quietly throttled. He smiled in that way that always made Krem nervous. Everyone was waiting to see what Mira would do.
"Andraste's tits!" Sera said finally, in wonderment, breaking the near-silence. "How does him and you even work? Look at the size of 'im! I mean, your poor fancy-bits must be-"
"Fucksakes, Sera, we are not discussing my fancy-bits!" Mira roared.
"To the Inquisitor's fancy-bits!" Dorian cried, slurring slightly, hoisting his tankard high.
Their table and a few others cheered ferociously, the tension breaking, then drank with equal enthusiasm. The more jocular troops laughed and slapped and pounded the backs of their unhappy or scandalized friends. Bull looked over at Mira, expecting her to be murderously angry. To his surprise, she just rolled her eyes, then laughed, tipped her mug back, and swallowed the rest of her drink in one go.
"Alright, alright. Ya mind-readin' pryin' bastards." She croaked, swaying into him. She steadied herself on his horn. He found himself grinning. She'd surprised him once again. "Me and my fancy-bits have had enough of this conversation. Toast whatever you want, but if anyone breathes a word of this to Cassandra I'll kill you all and blame Corypheus."
"Better walk her home, Chief!" Krem said, giving him the most salacious wink he'd ever seen. Harding was hanging onto his Lieutenant's arm, giggling into his shoulder.
Bull stood, more than a few pairs of eyes following him up to his full height. He straightened his harness and sword belts.
"My Lady Inquisitor." He said to Mira with gravitas, offering her an elbow.
The cold night air felt great after the close quarters of the tavern, and certainly smelled better. Mira was doing her best to appear less drunk than she really was, and with a different observer she may have succeeded. When they reached the main hall, however, she just slumped sideways into him, a look of utter, bemused defeat on her face. He scooped her up effortlessly and continued on, past the wan light of the fireplace, past huge stone figures that loomed over them in the darkness of the empty hall. Mira crossed her arms as best as she could while being pressed up against his chest.
"I'm fine now. Really. Put me down this instant." She declared, slurring slightly, then gave up the charade and dissolved into laughter.
"Be grateful that I didn't leave you with the Chargers." He said. "Once when I passed out they stole my clothes and left me on the far side of this awful little town. I woke up naked in a horse trough, with a pounding headache and a pissed off horse looking down at me. Stole some laundry off a clothesline and had to find my way back to camp in some old lady's nightie."
She gaped up at him, astonished, then broke into peals of laughter.
He laughed too, all the while hoping that no one in Skyhold would be awake to witness their Inquisitor in this...less than dignified state.
At last, he nudged the door to her quarters open with a boot and strode in, closing it behind him. The moon was full and cast enough light through the glass doors that he could at least find her bed. He pulled back the bedclothes with one hand and laid her down carefully. Mira was looking up at him with an expression that even he couldn't interpret.
He sat on the bed beside her, pulled her boots off, then helped her wriggle-with some difficulty-out of her breeches.
"Y'ok, boss?" He asked, pushing hair away from her face.
"Psssh. Don't call me 'boss', Bull. At least not here." She said.
"Alright," he chuckled softly, "Baronette Mirabelle Marceline Valentinia Travelyan, Your Worship the Inquisitor, Herald of Andr-"
"Ugh! Stop! You..." She said, putting her bare foot on the side of his face and trying to push him over and off her bed. It didn't work.
"...Arsehole." She finished, going limp, her leg falling across his lap. She smiled up at him playfully. This was a side of her he didn't often see-usually only in the few moments between fucking her senseless and leaving her to her rest.
Sex was like that, at least if you let it be. It loosened people up, got those happy/trusting/relaxed brain juices flowing. The Qunari, culturally speaking, had no particular emotional attachment to the act, though they certainly understood this phenomenon in the Kabethari. As a Ben Hassrath, he was well-versed in manipulating people through any means necessary, sex included.
If the Ben Hassrath had called upon him to, for example, assassinate Mira, he would have gone about it in precisely this same way. He would have found his way into her good graces and her bed, then probably murdered her in her sleep. Mira was a very intelligent, perceptive individual, but she had no sneakiness in her at all. No treachery. It would have been easy. It was a damn good thing that his masters had wanted her to live.
Bull pushed these thoughts away.
"Are you ok? Mira?" He asked, nicely this time.
She snorted.
"Yeah. I mean, other than how I've finally gotten you back into my bed but now I'm too twatted to do anything to you."
Iron Bull chuckled softly.
"Well, there's always tomorrow. So long as Seeker Pentaghast doesn't have me thrown off the battlements for besmirching the Herald."
She laughed wickedly as he tried to cover her with the bedclothes. She managed to reach up as he bent down and pulled his face down toward hers.
She kissed him softly but lingeringly, deeply, her small, warm hands on his face, her tongue sliding over his. A warm tingle started at the back of his skull and finished in his groin.
"Stay here with me, Bull." She said, between kisses. "You never stay."
The Qunari didn't share beds, at least not in the way the Kabethari did. Children shared bunks or cots in the crèche, and in harsh conditions adults wouldn't balk at bedding down together for warmth or safety. But when there were enough beds to go around, what was the point of splitting one? And, of course, nobody had ever asked him to before, even after so long in the company of Kabethari. They generally wanted to be shagged senseless, then left the hell alone. Mira was always surprising him.
"I'll protect you..." She wheedled, her lips still on his. "...from Cassandra."
"Mm. You wouldn't make much of a human shield-not for me, at least."
"I have blackmail material on Seeker Pentaghast, courtesy of Varric." Mira countered.
"Mm. Devious. I like it." He murmured.
"I thought you might." She said, lacing her fingers behind her head and letting out a satisfied sigh.
Bull stripped off his harness and pauldrons, then proceeded to his clothes. Mira watched, hands behind her head, ankles crossed, both naked and the very picture of smugness. Finally he slid in next to her, the bed creaking slightly under his weight. She shifted to drape herself over him, her warm, soft breasts pressing into his rib cage, her exhaled breath strongly alcoholic.
Mira pushed hair off of her face, giving him a look he couldn't interpret.
"Do you really sleep in that?" She asked him, and for a moment he didn't know what she was talking about. He was as naked as the day he'd been born. She pointed to his face.
Bull's hand went to his eyepatch. He'd forgotten all about it.
"Uh, no, I suppose not." He said, not sure what to do. What lay under his eyepatch was, by anyone's standards, fairly unpleasant. He'd been hit in the eye socket with a flail. Iron Bull remembered that moment vividly. He was about as far from squeamish as it was possible to be, but recalling the feeling of fluid from his ruptured eyeball dripping off his chin, while also, now, having drank a healthy portion of maraas lok, very nearly made his stomach rebel.
Unconcernedly, Mira hauled herself up onto him, using his shoulders for leverage, and started untying his eyepatch.
Bull watched her face carefully, curious. He didn't exactly mourn his disfigurement. After all, he didn't get by on his looks, in business or pleasure...but on the other hand, no one had seen his full face since that day, not even his Chargers.
Mira pulled the eyepatch away, then tossed it onto the bedside table. It landed with a clatter.
"Mm. Much better." She said, still slurring slightly, then put her hands on his face and kissed him lingeringly. Unexpectedly, warmth fluttered in his chest. She drew back, finally, smiling sleepily. Her heavy-lidded eyes flitted from his eye to his mouth, nothing in her face but playfulness and genuine affection.
Iron Bull reached out tentatively and cradled her face, fingers behind her ear, in her soft hair, thumb tracing her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed, lost in his touch. His hand looked huge next to her face, and he noticed that he was shaking slightly. He drew her close, until their foreheads touched. It was a very Qunari thing to do, though she probably didn't know it.
I'm going soft. He thought, but he still laid kisses on her eyelids, then, later, stroked her hair as she slept, sprawled out across him.