Chapter Text
Cullen sat at the booth, only vaguely aware of the conversations going on in the club around him. The pounding of the music in his chest and the press of bodies on either side of him kept him firmly within his own skin, unable to pretend he was anywhere else, feeling anything else but the fierce craving that was twisting in his stomach. He tried to focus on his breathing, but he couldn't hear it over the music, the beat making him grind his teeth. Cullen's gaze found Cassandra, and he tried to signal her, tell her he wasn't doing okay, but she was looking intently into the crowd, oblivious. He clutched his Coke, holding it tight to himself as he was jostled, realising only when a screech broke through the self-absorbed bubble around him that everyone in the little lounge area was getting up. He stood too, panicked, hand instinctively going to his belt. His fear only abated when he spotted the source of the noise; an overexcited elven girl, throwing herself at Leliana.
Cullen sighed, embarrassed, stepping out of the way as the others moved forwards to greet the newcomers. He looked them over; the small elven girl, scruffy and grinning, was clutching onto Cassandra, who was awkwardly patting the elf's arm, looking bemused; a hulking Qunari who was nodding as Leliana rattled off the names of the group; and a gorgeous man, who was looking right back at Cullen.
Quickly dropping his eyes back to the floor, Cullen fought down a blush, inwardly groaning as the man stepped closer, hoping he wouldn't be able to see his flushed cheeks in the dim light.
“Dorian” came a pleasant voice from beside him, calling over the music, accompanying a hand that was thrust out towards him. Cullen took the hand after a minute, shaking it hesitantly, enjoying the coolness of the man- Dorian's- many rings against his palm.
“Cullen” he mumbled back, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the pulsating lights of the dance floor.
Dorian seemed unperturbed by Cullen's evasiveness, sidling up so that their shoulders almost touched. Cullen tried to shuffle a little to the side, frustrated when his movement was impeded by the couch he was leaning against.
“Are you a friend of Leliana's?” Dorian half-yelled into his ear, gesturing to the small group that now surrounded Iron Bull and Leliana. Cullen shook his head, instead pointing to Cassandra.
“I don't know Leliana at all, but Cassandra didn't want to turn up alone”.
Dorian nodded, “I don't know Leliana either, unfortunately. I just promised Bull that I'd come out tonight. The brute thinks I work too much, he just doesn't understand that one can be passionate about one's job”. He sniffed indignantly, turning back to look at Cullen. He nodded blankly, Dorian's words drowned out by the thudding bass line. Dorian attempted to repeat himself, and again Cullen heard nothing, the music climbing. Dorian leaned in closer, his moustache tickling Cullen's cheek, making him blush again, and just as he began to repeat himself again, the bass dropped. The room shook with the heavy music and Dorian groaned. He glanced around, and Cullen did the same. With a jolt of panic he realised the party was moving out, some going towards the bar, others pushing to find a spot on the dance floor.
“Would you like to go outside?” Dorian called to Cullen, almost yelling right into his ear, “that way we may actually be able to hear each other”.
With a quick nod, Cullen moved off, relishing in the chance not only to avoid dancing, but to end the conversation with Dorian. He took a deep breath before diving into the madness of the dance floor. He created a path, pushing himself through the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to ignore the way that their faces twisted and distorted under the strobe lights. He was less than polite, working to put distance between himself and Dorian, hoping to lose him in the sea of club goers. He's out of my league, he thought to himself, as he finally emerged from the dance floor, the last thing I need is to get into some guy who I can't have.
***
The air outside was cold, and Cullen was glad for the leather jacket that he had brought with him, tugging it closer about himself. He settled himself against the wall of the club and, making sure Dorian had not followed him out, tugged a bag of pills from his pocket. The pills glowed faintly, throwing a blue light onto his palm as he shook one out. Want curled in his chest and stomach as the little tablet of lyrium sung to him, and he had barely stuffed the bag back into his pocket before he was swallowing the pill, washing it down with a tasteless swig of Coke.
The pill took effect immediately, with a wave of relief washing over Cullen, starting at his temples and slowly seeping down to his feet. He felt the light tickle of magic along his spine, and it soothed him, eased out the tension in his shoulders, cleared the pounding in his head, loosening his muscles so that he felt he may melt into the brick wall he leaned against. The malicious whispers of self-doubt faded away, gagged by the lyrium. He closed his eyes, searching blindly in his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter, simply enjoying the high as it took hold.
It was as Cullen was lighting his cigarette that he heard Dorian come out, the pounding music growing suddenly louder before muffling again, as Dorian moved closer to Cullen. Cullen took a long drag of his cigarette, keeping his eyes closed as Dorian sidled up next to him. He felt something cold press into his palm, and his eyes snapped open. Dorian was handing him a can of drink.
“I got a little spun around in that cesspool of a dance floor, so I thought I'd make use of it” he explained, holding up his own premix, “no matter how awful the alcohol in Ferelden is.”
Cullen gave a hum of amusement, “I take it you're not from here, then?”.
“He talks!” Dorian teased, “what gave it away? The accent? The absence of dog smell?”.
Cullen snorted, relaxing further. He gave Dorian a lopsided grin, “so, where are you from?”.
Dorian pulled himself up, putting on a face of mock sincerity, “I am Dorian, scion of House Pavus, noble family of Tevinter”.
“So, a magister, then?”
Dorian shot Cullen a scathing look, “no, not a Magister; an Altus. Do you truly belive that if I were a Tevinter Magister, running the great Imperium of Thedas, I would be slumming around in nightclubs in Denerim?”.
Cullen stiffened, unsure if he had offended Dorian or not. “I- um...”
Dorian's serious expression split, widening into a grin, “The answer is yes; Tevinter is shit”.
Cullen chuckled, and the tension dissolved, the pair slipping into easy conversation. Cullen found that, even though Dorian talked a lot, and rather rapidly, he didn't mind, letting the Tevinter fill the gaps in the conversation, letting himself enjoy the pleasant tenor of Dorian's voice. Cullen avoided talk of his work, and was glad when Dorian didn't pry, and in return, he didn't press when Dorian dodged a question about his parents, burying his curiosity.
Three cigarettes and two drink runs later, Dorian and Cullen were sat on the ground, backs against the wall of the club, Dorian curled under Cullen's arm and jacket, having gotten cold in his fashionably torn singlet.
“I will never get used to Ferelden winters” he complained, “your summers are as cold as our winters”.
“Oh, quit your whining” Cullen laughed, “You wouldn't be so cold if you'd worn an entire shirt”.
Dorian scoffed, “someone had to showcase a decent fashion sense in this backward country; I was so selfless as to sacrifice my own well being for your kin!”.
Cullen grinned, “well, I can't say I'm not glad for such a sacrifice”.
Dorian smirked, “Is that so?”. He looked up at Cullen through his eyelashes.
Cullen nodded, biting his lip. He went to take a drag of his cigarette, but Dorian caught his wrist, bringing the cigarette, and Cullen's hand to his mouth. Cullen's breath caught as Dorian took a pull of the cigarette, his lips pressed against Cullen's fingers, their eyes locked. Dorian released Cullen, tiny wisps of smoke escaping his mouth as he began to lean in, Cullen's eyes widening as Dorian's face drew closer-
The moment was broken as the door to the club was thrown open, the huge Qunari's drunken laughter somehow louder than the music from the club. Cullen quickly jerked back, cigarette crumpling as his hands closed into fists. Dorian's face was twisted in irritation as their friends came closer, smoke blowing out of his nose; Cullen would have laughed at the image if he hadn't been so disappointed himself.
The Qunari- Iron Bull, as Dorian had introduced him- sauntered over towards the pair, shadowed by the scruffy elf; an elf which was stumbling along with an amazonian Qunari woman. Cullen and Dorian hurriedly tried to disentangle themselves.
“What's this then?” Bull boomed, grinning lecherously down at the two men.
“Nothing” Dorian snapped, standing abruptly, only wobbling slightly, “are we going?”.
Iron Bull nodded, continuing to look at Cullen, a shit eating grin stretched across his face. Cullen glared back, maintaining his position on the ground. Eventually, Iron Bull gave in, shrugging and moving off, gently guiding the elf and her friend towards a waiting taxi.
Once his friends had moved off, Dorian's proud stature slumped, and he leaned back against the wall, looking crestfallen. Cullen looked up at him, not sure what to do.
“I'm sorry” Dorian groaned, his forlorn gaze locked on the ground.
Cullen's brow furrowed, he stood, “for what?” he asked slowly.
Dorian shook his head, throwing a furtive glance at Cullen before looking back at the ground. Cullen's stomach dropped as he realised that Dorian's eyes were brimming with tears. Setting his jaw, he took a step forwards, placing his hand on Dorian's shoulder, beginning to lean in. The Tevinter shook him off, giving him a sad smile, eyes never moving from the ground.
“Perhaps I'll see you around, sometime”.
Cullen stilled, dumbstruck, as Dorian wobbled his way to the taxi. And he was frozen, confused, as he let the most gorgeous man he had ever met climb into the taxi and be whisked away into the night.