Archive of Our Own

"What you need to do, boss," he said, grinning, "is get laid."  He patted her between the shoulders, his big hand spanning across the width of her back.  "You just find someone you like and just fuck that bad taste out of your mouth."

"Bull."  She drew his name out like a full sentence, one that said I can't just go screw someone, I'm the damn Inquisitor.

"Come on Lavellan," he said.  "You're pretty and you can kick ass harder than any mage I've ever met; you have great ears and you're a redhead.  I'm sure there's a line."

Enfys chortled.  "You sound like you're coming on to me."

Bull shrugged.  "I would, if it wouldn't piss off Dorian." He cocked his head.  "Didn't expect that, let me tell you."

"I'm glad for you."  Enfys smiled for a moment but it slipped off her face.  She looked down at the bar, at her fingers curled around the half empty glass.  There was a flash of blue and silver armor in her head.  The Silverite Wings of ...fucking bullshit.  Sometimes, she felt like she should have left Blackwall - Thom, she corrected herself - to rot, not given him to the Wardens. It was almost like a gift, after what he'd done to her.  She felt suddenly sober.  

Bull pulled her against him, tucking her head under his horn.  "I know you are, boss.  But I'm serious.  Lots of people out there.  Lots of good ones that aren't full of shit.  Now, have another drink until it sounds like a good idea."

That's how she ended up outside Cullen's office at three in the morning.

She knew Cullen liked her, or at least it seemed like he did.  He wasn't very subtle but he also never even had a twitch of outward jealousy, never even looked at her cross-eyed, no matter how obnoxious she and Blackwall got, before everything went wrong.  Everyone knew about them. They did it on a bale of hay in front of an open window, for fuck's sake.  But despite that, Cullen seemed happy for her.  He was too good to be true, really.

He was probably going to throw her out though.  Who would blame him?

She didn't bother knocking, just opened the door and shuffled in.  He couldn't say no, if she didn't ask.  It was dark in there, just the dim light of the dying fire to light the room.  Her eyes couldn't adjust fast enough between the bright moonlight and the dark, elf or no.  She bumped hard into the corner of the desk and cursed.  "Fuck."  Stupid booze.   

She heard the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn in the loft.  "Who's there?"

"It's just me, " she said, her words a little slurred, a little choked.  She tried to sit up on the desk but it was too tall, too hard to keep her balance and she slid down on to the floor instead, knees bent, head hanging into her hands.

"Inquisitor?" Cullen's voice shifted from aggression to worry.  He was down the ladder before she even had a chance to think about it, kneeling next to her.  "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Enfys looked up at him through the spirals of her hair.  "Only my heart," she muttered.  "I'm so stupid."

He sighed hard enough that she felt his breath brush against her skin.  "You aren't stupid, Inquisitor.  Blackwall...," He corrected himself.  "Rainier fooled us all."

"I thought I loved him," she said.  "And he didn't even exist.  No matter what he says, if he really loved me, he wouldn't have lied to me."

"No, he wouldn't have," Cullen agreed.  He put his hand tentatively on her arm.  "What can I do to help?"

Enfys lifted her head at looked up at him.  He was shirtless, half-dressed in only rumpled drawstring pants, his sandy blonde hair disheveled from sleep.  He was backlit by the fire, so she really couldn't see his face, but she imagined he was probably frowning with a little furrow between his eyebrows.

"You would never lie to me, would you Cullen?" she asked, drunk enough to just say the first thing that popped into her head.  She didn't even call him Commander.

"Of course not, Inquisitor." He was deadly serious.

She turned her face up and leaned in towards him just slightly.  She felt him tense, felt the air around them practically erupt with tension but held fast.  "Cullen?" she asked, feeling her cheeks get hot.  "Have you ever wanted to kiss me?"

Cullen sputtered.  "Have I ever...what?"  

"Wanted to kiss me?  I see you look at me sometimes.  Have you ever...?"

"You're drunk, aren't you?" he said, replying with a question in an effort to avoid his own answer.  He sounded disheartened.

"Yes," she admitted.  "But that's not an answer."

"I...," He sighed hard again.  Frustrated. Embarrassed, maybe.  "Yes."

She felt her heartbeat speed up a little.  What you need, boss...  "What about...what about right now?"

Cullen sat back on his heels, taking his hand off her shoulder and running it through his hair instead.  He always did that when he was overwhelmed.  "I won't. You're drunk and you don't...you'll regret it in the morning."  He made a sad sound.  "I will too."

"It's already morning," she said, leaning in towards him again, awkwardly getting up on to her knees.  "I won't regret it."

Cullen shook his head, putting his hands on her arms to stop her from coming closer.  "Please, Inquisitor, don't do this."

"But I thought?" she blurted out.  "Don't you want me?  Am I so contaminated now that you don't..."

He cut her off.  "No, what Rainier did is not your fault.  It doesn't...no."  He shook his head. "No, please don't think that."

"But I-"

"No, you didn't do anything except have a big heart."  His voice sounded thick.

"Then why won't you kiss me?"

Cullen swallowed hard enough for her to hear.  "Because it has nothing to do with me.  You're drunk and you're sad.  I am your friend and I will comfort you, but I...can't."

She made a strangled sound, a sob she tried to swallow and failed.  "I just wanted to be safe, just one thing to not be terrible.  I decide to take a chance, let myself feel something, let someone in and...and he didn't even exist."  She sniffled, leaning in against Cullen's grip.  "The Keeper always told me I had to be careful with my heart. That emotions were trouble for mages, that some day I'd have to make babies and do my duty...but..." She grunted. "Fat lot of good her advice did for any of us.  They're all dead and I wish I was, too often.  Too many people to depend on me.  I can't just fall apart like this."

"Maker's Breath, Inquisitor...Enfys."  Cullen's hands moved and he let her closer, folding her into an embrace.   "I wish there was something I could do that would actually help."

"Just don't make me leave," she muttered into his neck.

"Of course not, you're always welcome."  He tightened his arms around her, his cheek against her hair and his voice dropped, low and quiet.  "Always."

 ***

 Enfys was amazed that her head didn't hurt.  Granted, she hadn't opened her eyes yet and she was debating whether or not that was even a good idea.  She was most certainly not in a bed, and she was definitely not alone.  There was a warm body tangled up with hers, all long legs and the silky skin of an arm under her head like a pillow, pressed against her cheek.  One of those long legs was draped over her, another arm wrapped around her waist.  She heard the gentle rhythm of sleeping breath.  Her hand was numb.

She thought she remembered what had happened.  She remembered the ribbon on Bull's horn was red. She remembered Dorian coming in and trundling him off to bed.  She remembered stumbling out into the courtyard and up all those stairs and...

Shit.   She slowly opened her eyes.   Cullen.

His face was resting on her arm, which explained her hand.  His eyes were closed, the thick fringe of his eyelashes resting on the delicate skin under his eyes.  Like this, relaxed, unaware, he looked younger, softer somehow.  That knife edge of pain in his usual expression was gone.

She was almost loathe to wake him.  The moment he realized they'd ended up like this, he was going to be mortified, push her away, call her Inquisitor and apologize.  But she didn't want him to apologize.  She didn't want him to push her away.  She was stone sober and laying on the floor and at any minute, someone was going to walk in here and find them like this and all she wanted to do was kiss him, even now without the liquid libido.

Cullen was a good man.  He wasn't some dashing Grey Warden Hero, but with the exception of Loghain, clearly she'd never met one.  Good was...well, good.

"Cullen?" she said softly.  She used the hand not trapped under his head, the hand with the anchor quietly sleeping inside to brush against the hair at his temple, and rest against his head.  He smiled faintly and opened his eyes, blinking at her.  His smile disappeared into a conflicted frown.  He blinked a few more times. He had the presence of mind not to immediately jerk away but his arm tensed under her head and his body just slightly leaned away from her.

"Inquisitor."  Meh, called it.

"Cullen, don't you think we're past 'Inquisitor' when we wake up on the floor curled all around each other like rashvines?" she sighed, wondering if she looked as disappointed as she felt.

"I...as you wish, Enfys."  He started to pull his arm away, but she stopped him, fingers against his shoulder.

"Cullen, wait."

He closed his eyes again.  Sighed like a bellows.  Didn't speak.

"Are you angry with me?"

"No," he replied almost too quickly, his eyes snapping open.  "Of course not.  I may be a little angry at myself.  I shouldn't have-"

"Shouldn't have what?"

"I...please, can we not...." He trailed off, looking away, blushing.

Enfys chuckled under her breath.  "Cullen, it's morning.  I'm sober."  He turned his eyes back to her, those pretty eyes all amber-brown and so terrified.  If she didn't know better, she'd think he was half in love with her already.  But that would be foolish wouldn't it?  "Will you still tell me the truth?"

"Of course."

"Have you ever wanted to kiss me?"

He looked coy, his mouth quirking despite his better judgement.  "Already answered that."

"Well, what about now?"

"Are you sure?" he said, suddenly serious again.

She nodded.  "I am."

"It's so soon," Cullen said, that familiar little furrow appearing in his forehead.

"How long am I supposed to take to mourn something that didn't really exist?"  She propped herself up on her elbow.  She clenched her teeth.  "Look if you don't want to-"

He kissed her.  Cullen cut her off by grabbing her, one hand around her upper arm and the other burying into her hair, pulling her back down against him.  He didn't hesitate, his lips moving over hers with more skill than she expected.  

It was always the quiet ones.

This was the sort of kiss that she could feel to the tips of her toes, the tips of her fingers and elsewhere; it was all encompassing, breathless and passionate.  She hadn't expected he'd put as much passion into a kiss as he did into a battle, but she shouldn't have been surprised.

He didn't pull away, instead just broke contact with her lips, tilting his mouth back but his forehead still against hers.

"I'm sorry I just-"

"Don't apologize for that.  That was wonderful."  She smiled at him.

"That was...perfect."  His voice sounded a little dreamy.  

There was no time for what Iron Bull suggested, but maybe there was a chance for it now.  Even as they untangled from each other and Cullen smiled at her and headed back up into the loft to get dressed; even as she made her way out into the pale morning sun; even then, her mouth tasted a little less bitter.