[For alphabetiful, who asked for “the first non-amatus pet name.”]
Amatus doesn’t count. Neither do dear or darling; those are Vivienne’s to wield, endearments turned on a sharp tongue, a practice with which Dorian is himself familiar.
They don’t sit right anyway, not when he looks at the Bull. ‘My sweet,’ he thinks. 'My love.’ Rejects them both, though the latter makes his cheeks heat, and isn’t that something? My *love*, and he blushes. Although–
“Hand me that book, love,” he says later, heart beating too fast in his chest as he reshelves the books he no longer needs. There’s a quiet pause behind him, and he’s loath to look, but after a moment he can’t help himself.
The Bull’s face is, well. He wishes he could take its likeness. His eye is wide and his mouth is open, and he gapes like a fish for a moment.
“I–Bull, that book that’s right–”
“Oh, I know,” he says, the corners of his mouth beginning to curl and then he’s grinning at Dorian like this is the best thing he’s ever heard.
Dorian swallows hard, feels the tips of his ears heat. “Well,” he says, “why don’t you–”
“Maybe–” the Bull steps close, closer, crowds Dorian against the shelves “–maybe I want to hear it again. You said it so nicely.”
“I didn’t even say please.” He tries to scoff, but Bull’s got that look in his eye, that focused look that Dorian’s seen in tents and bedrooms, in halls and taverns and, on one memorable occasion, in a barn. So he tries to scoff, but it comes out breathless and heady and, oh, he still isn’t over how *big* the Bull’s hands are.
“Didn’t have to, love,” the Bull says, and the words zings through Dorian like lightning.
1 or 30 for Cullen/Elena on the wedding prompts? :D
1. “i jokingly told you that the only way i’d marry you was if you did this weird outlandish thing, and you actually did it, and i’m kind of charmed.”
Elena howled with laughter, slapping her hand down hard against her thigh. “And still she turn him down? You sister is colder than a darkspawn!”
Cullen snorted and then grimaced at her words as he looked deep into his mug of ale. His face was flushed, and his usually sleek hair disheveled. More heat rose to his cheeks as he glanced Elena’s way, catching her eye. She winked.
“I don’t think Mia thought he’d actually do it,” he muttered.
She shook her head, silent laughter still rocking through her. They were seated in the Herald’s Rest, most of her companions and Bull’s Chargers clustered around them.
“I swear to the Maker,” she continued, setting her fifth empty mug down in front of her. “If a man braved a dragon’s wrath to steal a ring from its horde for me, I’d marry him in a heartbeat.” After a moment of drunken consideration, Elena rounded on the Qunari at her left. “But that doesn’t apply to you, Bull, since you like killing dragons.”
The table roared with laughter. As Bull held up his hands in mock surrender to her edict.
Three Weeks Later
“WHERE IS HE? I’M GOING TO KILL HIM!” Elena roared as she marched down to Skyhold’s infirmary, inquisition personnel tripping over themselves to get out of her way as she went.
She kicked open the solid wooden doors, making every head in the room beyond snap towards her. Luckily–it wouldn’t due to make too much of a scene–that only included two healers, Commander Cullen and a handful of his lieutenants. Cullen lay on a bed, shirtless with his ribs wrapped, one arm bandaged in a sling, and a seriously nasty looking scratch across his face.
“Get. Out.” Elena snarled, jerking her head towards the door behind her.
She waited, chest heaving as everyone filed out. The entire time, he eyes didn’t leave Cullen’s. Once the doors had banged shut behind her, she strode towards his bed and leaned down, so that she was only inches from his face.
“Are you completely insane?! I just returned from the blighted Hissing Wastes to hear that my general attacked a fucking dragon! You. Could. Have. Been. Killed!” She bit out. “What were you thinking!?”
Throughout her outburst, Cullen remained silent, staring up at her with his soulful golden eyes. Elena felt something tight and hot twist in her belly, but she tried to ignore it. She was furious, and he needed to know that.
Suddenly, she was yanked down to the bed, his good arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her into him. She struggled for a moment, before she felt her body melting into his.
“Relax sweetheart, I’m fine,” he murmured into the side of her neck.
“You are not fine, Cullen,” she snapped, before taking a deep, shaking breath. “Andraste’s ass. We both know if I had pulled this shit you would drag me to a tower by my hair and lock me away. You scared me. I don’t like being scared.”
Cullen sighed and buried his face deep in her hair, his mouth against her neck, before he spoke again. “I have something for you.”
Elena stilled as he reached over to the bedside table and plucked something from the drawer. Something small and shiny. Cullen held it out to her.
“It’s a ring,” she said, sucking in a breath but making no move to take it.
“A ring from a dragon’s horde,” she continued, her voice tight.
It was beautiful. Elegant yellow gold swirled around a shimmering cluster of opals, their smooth white surface a riot of color in the bright morning sunlight. Suddenly, her words at the tavern came back to her: If a man braved a dragon’s wrath to steal a ring from its horde for me, I’d marry him in a heartbeat.
“Cullen,” she whispered, reaching forward slowly towards his offering.
He slipped it on her finger, where it fit perfectly. “Is that a yes, love?”
She nodded, blinking past the tears gathering in her eyes. Quick as a flash, she thumped him on the shoulder, eliciting an “ow!”
“If you ever pull something like that again, I’ll lock you in a tower!”
With a deep chuckle, Cullen drew her into him, his lips capturing hers in a heated kiss.