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Dorian was always the first one awake. The sun, having only just begun its ascent over the snow-bitten mountains of Skyhold, lit the sky like a candle in a dark room; the rays drifting in through that one damnable hole in the ceiling. The mage slips out from the comfortable arms wrapped around his body, and lays a gentle kiss on his Commander’s lips. Cullen tries to follow him, lifting his head from the pillow, his eyes still closed, and his brow furrowed in confusion. Dorian nuzzles his beloved’s nose, and escapes grasping hands with a light laugh.
“Sleep, amatus,” he says, quiet, in the wake of dawn. “I must check on our wayward elf. I’ll return before you’ve a chance to miss me.”
Cullen murmurs under his breath. “I always miss you.”
Dorian runs the back of his fingers over the soft skin that stretches over Cullen’s cheekbones. “I’ll be all of ten minutes, I promise.”
The Commander of the Inquisition lets out a small, sleepy huff, and burrows deeper into the fur throw artfully wrapped around his freckled shoulders.
Dorian climbs down the ladder with a grace no man should possess, especially a man that woke from his dreams not five minutes ago. He pulls a black silk robe over his leggings and bare chest on his way out of the tower; the gold trim accenting his exotic skin in the low light.
No one bothers him as he makes his way over to the upper floor of the Herald’s Rest, this is for several reasons: most of Skyhold are still sleeping, the guards on watch are passing out on their feet, and Dorian is a force to be reckoned with, even in his sleepwear, and especially without a weapon.
He pushes open the door to Sera’s room without knocking; being one of the select few who could without getting an arrow to a rather uncomfortable place. The Jenny is sitting up in her bed, scribbling nonsensically into a worn notebook, dark circles under her eyes, and her hair mussed.
“Sera, it’s barely dawn. Have you slept at all?” Dorian questions, crouching down next to the elf’s side.
Sera stares at Dorian, not entirely aware around her, but happy to see him, nonetheless. “I had a few hours?”
“A few?”
“Like... Three?” Sera half-confirms, as much as one can confirm under the influences of three hours of rest.
Dorian frowns, stands up, and holds out his hand for hers. She takes it, rising unsteadily from the bed, and wrapping her mismatched tartan blanket more tightly around her shoulders. They leave the room together, Sera clinging onto the thick muscle of Dorian’s arm, more than willing to let the mage lead.
They make it back to the tower in record time, and Sera almost falls down the ladder trying to climb it with the blanket wound around her like a cape. Dorian nudges her towards his side of the bed.
She drags back the covers, and crawls onto the bed, resting her legs underneath her for a moment, looking around in uncertainty. She meets Dorian’s eyes as he walks towards her, and lifts up her arms, cocking her head to the side. Dorian steps closer to the bed, and returns Sera’s limp-armed hug with a tight squeeze. The elf rests her head against Dorian’s side, sighing.
Dorian brushes his fingers through her hair. “Go to sleep, darling. It’s alright.”
Sera takes that as permission, and carefully flops into the bed, kicking her legs underneath the thick covers, and snuggling into the pillow. Cullen rouses enough to open one eye and turn his head towards Sera, humming a puzzled note at Dorian.
“She hasn’t slept well, I brought her back with me.”
Sera raises her head to squint at Cullen, and shuffles minutely closer.
Cullen simply slumps back down into bed. “Sleep well, Sera,” he says, too quiet for Dorian to hear correctly.
“Hm?” Dorian questions, stopping on Cullen’s side of the bed.
“Sleepover,” Cullen mumbles, happily.
Dorian laughs, shaking his head, and leaves them both to sleep a while longer.
An hour later, Cullen, bleary-eyed, and wearing a thin, low-cut shirt, steps off the ladder. Dorian is lounging in his chair, a mug of coffee in one hand, and a book in the other. There’s a plate of fruit and bread on the desk, next to an empty one, and another mug, warmed by a simple orange glow of magic.
“Beloved, why is Sera in our bed?”
Dorian raises a sarcastic brow at his half-dressed lover. “You don’t remember a thing from this morning, do you?”
Cullen rubs the back of his head, sheepishly.
“I brought her back here after it was clear she hadn’t slept, and left the two of you together while I procured breakfast,” he waves at the full plate with a ringed hand.
“Well, thank you for that, my heart,” Cullen says, ducking his head down to place a kiss on Dorian’s brow.
Dorian hums, a smirk dancing on his face. “Anytime. Best start your paperwork, Commander, you’ll be in here all day, otherwise, and we have a chess appointment to keep.”
The mage rises from Cullen’s seat, and begins to walk away towards the door, a teasing sway in his steps. Cullen rounds the desk, and snatches Dorian’s hand from his side, pulling the mage tightly to his chest. He kisses him, full, on the mouth, the corners of his lips turned upwards with the hint of a smile.
Dorian reluctantly pulls away, resting a hand over Cullen’s heart. “Have a good day, my darling.”
A pillow flies down from the upper floor, landing artfully on Cullen’s mussed head.
“Oi! It’s too early, be mushy somewhere else!” Sera’s voice echoes down to them, followed by the thud of her body no doubt hitting the mattress.
Dorian fails to cover a laugh at the shocked and offended expression overtaking Cullen’s face. He removes the pillow, and tosses it onto the chair, before running his hands through the man’s blond locks, smoothing them into some semblance of order. He kisses his lover’s scarred lips.
“Good day, amatus, I’ll see you at lunch.”
He walks from the room, Cullen gazing after him with a lovestruck expression, and Sera sleeping, silently, above.