for the writing thing: Dorian and snuggling
Wrong Place, Right Time
Dorian x My Inquisitor Felaris Lavellan (because it wasn’t specified ;w; s-sorry!)
Long. That was what the days felt like, at least since things had started settling down. The usual touring of Thedas looking for people to help and things to do was becoming more monotonous than usual, and the books in Skyhold’s libraries were more or less casual reads or a copy of another book with someone else’s name on it.
Dorian found himself growing weary with each passing day, but for the first time in what felt like ages he could sleep without aid of alcohol. He often found himself waking to the dim glow of nearly melted candles set out about the library. The chair in his usual corner had become something of new bed, not that it provided nearly enough comfort. His neck was usually aching by the time he awoke. Dreadful thing.
So once again his grey eyes fluttered open to the faint light in the dark library, but not of his own accord. There was a nudging at his elbow, to which Dorian groggily turned his head toward.
The Inquisitor- a small Elvhen man who often had a foul mouth and a fouler temper- was crouched down beside his chair and staring up at him with those wide, green eyes. Dorian had to admit he wasn’t particularly used to such attention from the elf. He was typically honest in a brutal fashion and didn’t make many friends, but he always did seem to linger in the library more than most.
Ever since the Inquisitor had gone with him to meet his father, he had to admit he’d developed a new appreciation for the young man. He seemed rather oblivious to flirtations, but back then he had seemed rather… confused by the animosity toward the idea of two men being together.
“Wake up,” the Inquisitor piped up, shaking Dorian from his thoughts.
“You’re awake rather late, Inquisitor,” Dorian pulled his arm away to rub the bridge of his nose. He could hear the huff that came from the man next to him, though.
“Felaris. I told you that.” The elf had his cheeks puffed out and Dorian had to keep from chuckling at the rather childish display.
“Felaris, then.” Dorian got up from his chair and stretched. “You seemed rather adamant about everyone knowing you were the great Inquisitor not long ago.”
The man took a deep breath and held it for a moment. Dorian couldn’t help but glance over.
“Everyone else. Not my friends, and… not you.” Felaris seemed to shrink back a bit behind the arm of the chair, fingers drumming along the wooden part.
“Oh? If I am not a friend then what am I?” The mage offered a wry grin as he turned to face the shrunken elf, brow raised and arms crossed.
Felaris, however, seemed distracted by something else.
“… Is something wrong, Felaris?” Dorian finally relaxed his posture, a bit of concern showing on his features.
“It’s too high,” the Inquisitor finally spoke, averting Dorian’s gaze. “The position, the tower… I feel like I’m going to fall any minute.”
Now Dorian had to pause and consider this. Usually the man was a fireball, running around with his head held high and never taking backtalk from others. He wasn’t the prideful sort, but he tended not to think before he spoke. He had managed to make close friends with Sera and Bull- both where he likely gets his list of foul words to use- and despite often being at odds with Solas the man respected Fel’s decision-making. Felaris listened to his companions, even when it seemed his mouth was running too fast for him to have the time to do so.
To hear him say something like that… To express that fear, and to him? To Dorian? It felt odd, and he wasn’t sure if he was more thankful for the trust or concerned that he wouldn’t know what to say. What could he say? He certainly didn’t have all of Thedas leaning on his every word.
And yet Felaris somehow found the time to tend to his companions’ needs, too… After a moment’s thought, he wasn’t surprised the pressure was weighing down on him.
“You need to get some rest,” Dorian spoke softly, moving over toward Felaris who inched away a moment before looking up at him.
“Can I sleep with you?” The question came rather abruptly and likely with little thought into how it might have sounded, but… by now Dorian felt as though he couldn’t keep up with trying to correct the Inquisitor. He’d already made it clear he couldn’t care less about how others saw him. He would often say his actions could speak louder than he could, and the idea seemed preposterous until you actually saw him in action.
Dorian sighed, but nodded. He offered Felaris a hand which the young elf took and stood up. “Just don’t hog the covers… And you don’t move when you sleep, do you?”
“I dunno. I’ve never slept with anyone.” He seemed more intent on already using Dorian’s arm for a pillow rather than walking toward the mage’s room.
When they arrived, however, Felaris was quick to snatch up a pillow and curl into a ball at the edge of the bed. At least that left enough room for Dorian to lay comfortably. He could tolerate this and just deal with the Chantry sister’s lectures in the morning. Oh, and Cassandra would undoubtedly be disturbed by such an open display.
He might’ve helped her pick out a nice man had she not revealed her tastes in Swords and Shields. He wan’t sure he could quite find such a cheesy man to suit her.
Before Dorian could even fall asleep, however, he felt something latch onto his arm. For a brief moment he’d forgotten he’d invited the Inquisitor in. That soft breathing of his was rather soothing, and it had nearly fallen into the background.
Dorian attempted to wiggle his arm free, but the grip on it only tightened the more he did so. Felaris was sound asleep, as well. Oh joy. He couldn’t wait to wake up to his arm in pins and needles.
He remained there for a while, contemplating ways to unhinge the Inquisitor from his arm. There were plenty of ways to do it, but… With that horribly satisfied expression on Felaris’s face, Dorian couldn’t bring himself to do anything. It was rare to see the man smile, unless he was pulling pranks with Sera. This? This was something softer.
He finally gave up, allowing the Inquisitor to keep his arm. Dorian even rolled onto his side, now face-to-face with the elf. The sound of his breathing really could lull him right back to sleep.
Dorian felt the grip on his arm loosen and suddenly he had arms wrapping themselves around him, fingers gripping at his clothes tightly. Felaris even buried his face into Dorian’s chest, and he wondered if the man could actually keep breathing like that.
No, could still feel the rise and fall of his chest. They were so closely bound together, but it was… comfortable. He snaked his own arms around the other, setting his chin atop Fel’s head.
He could feel Felaris relax in his hold. He hadn’t quite pegged the Inquisitor for someone who preferred close contact, but it seemed he was mistaken.
And perhaps he was mistaken about more than just that.
“Thank you,” he barely heard the words against his chest.
“Just don’t kick me in your sleep.”
Dorian heard the chuckle from the other. A quiet sound, and then his body just melted against him. He was asleep once more.
Dorian followed shortly after.