Forever is a State of Mind
My gift is for @serenityfails, from @ohgodsalazarwhy
Prompts filled: Dorian taking care of Bull and: Dorian and Bull happy and retired and alive long after the events of Trespasser
Rating: G
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The wind this time of year was cold, but not biting. Not quite yet. They still had a few more weeks before the chill sank into the ground and killed the last of the stubborn plants in their modest garden. Right now the wind was blowing his hair about as he spread out kernels of corn for their clucking chickens. Dorian watched idly as they scratched through the dirt and chased each other around with loud angry burrs and screeching. Horrible animals. Dorian could hardly believe they owned them.
If asked as a child what sort of home he’d live in as an old man he would have confidently replied that he would die in the Pavus estate, surrounded by wealth and comfort. Dorian smiled to himself as he pictured his younger self’s reaction to being told he’d live in a comfortable, but modest, cottage with a little garden, some goats, a stubborn donkey, and a flock of screeching chickens; and that he was content, no, happy.
The Imperium held many wonders and Dorian had been happy to indulge in his youth. He’d almost had to as a Magister. Those days were done, and the Pavus homes and lands were given to the burgeoning Lucerni. His seed had sprouted, and it was strong enough to go on without him. The Pavus name? Dorian could have passed it on to any one of his many apprentices, but he thought it best that it die with him. Dorian would be the final Pavus, and his vanity demanded he remain the greatest.
The tin bucket was finally bereft of corn, so Dorian set it aside. He squinted up at the sky, trying to gauge how much time had passed since The Bull had gone into town to grab some supplies for winter. He should return soon. Dorian grabbed his staff and a pair of big tin buckets, hoisting them by their handles over his forearm so he could walk slowly to their well. His body ached these days, and the cold did him no favors, but his back was still straight and his mind still sharp, so he couldn’t complain too much. He did, but that was beside the point.
The well had been a project that they’d worked on together many, many years ago. A summer spent with The Chargers and dirt always under his fingernails. Dorian smiled fondly at the memory, pulling up water and dumping it into his tin buckets. The work had been well worth it, Dorian was hardly a young man anymore, he couldn’t walk half a mile every time he needed water drawn. When both buckets were filled to the brim, Dorian waved his hand and both floated three feet off the ground, drifting gently just ahead of Dorian as he walked them to the house.
The cottage was covered in trailing vines and surrounded by flowers and bushes. All Bull’s doing, of course, he had the green thumb and patience that Dorian lacked. A splintery old fence surrounded their home, and Dorian pushed the front gate open with a small squeak of rusting hinges. The front door of the cottage was painted a rich, royal purple and Dorian pushed it open to float his buckets inside and set both of them on the heavy wooden table in the middle of the room. The cottage only had two rooms, a living and dining room, by far the largest space, and a single bedroom that was predominately dominated by their enormous bed. Near the table was a large fireplace, a fire crackling merrily within to warm the cottage and chase away the winter chill.
Dorian laid his staff against the wall and got to work. The first bucket was emptied into a copper tub, Dorian activating the heating runes with a careless flick of his fingers, as he had a thousand times. The next was split up, some poured into glass jars to keep fresh, but a quarter was splashed into a cauldron hanging over the fire and mixed with the rest of their cows milk which was about to go bad anyway.
Dorian sat at the table with a brick of chocolate he’d pulled off their pantry shelf, chopping off chunks and dumping them into the simmering mixture. The smell of chocolate filled the cottage, chasing away every other scent. Dorian was adding some mild spices when he heard the tell-tale squeak of the front gate. He smiled to himself and stirred the cocoa before ladling it into a large mug just as Iron Bull limped through the front door.
“I told you to take the cart and donkey,” Dorian scolded as Bull collapsed with a low groan into the chair across from him.
“I’m fine, Kadan,” Bull laughed, but his hand was rubbing his knee. Time had been surprisingly kind to Bull. He had more scars, a notch in one ear where the blade of a bandit had got just a little too close, and the tip of his right horn had been knocked off during a giant fight and replaced with a silver cap. However, he was still as strong as an ox and sharper than a Crow’s blade. The coarse hair of his stubble was a peppered black and white, making him look distinguished. Dorian was endlessly jealous; his hair had merely turned grey like his Father’s had. Though he had long since outlived him.
“Well I drew you a bath,” said Dorian curtly, “because I know the cold is hell on your joints and walking to and from town with the barrow hardly helps. I’ll unload.”
Iron Bull laughed, already undoing his leg brace and stripping out of his dusty travel clothes. “It sounds like I don’t have a choice.”
“You don’t,” said Dorian, pausing on the way out to kiss the top of Bull’s head. Strong arms tried to wrap him up and draw him closer, but he managed to slip away with a playful smile. Later, he would let Bull catch him, but right now there was work to be done, and if he didn’t do it immediately then Bull would think it was his sacred duty to get it done.
Outside the barrow was loaded up with food and supplies. Some more cows milk, thankfully. All the salted meats and other items that needed to stay cold were carried into their cold pantry, dug into a hill beside the house. Supplies for the animals were hefted into the shed, Dorian’s poor back protesting as he threw bags of grain over his shoulder. The rest, dry ingredients and some knick-knacks, were carried inside to be put in their rightful places.
Iron Bull was already soaking in the tub, head against the copper rim as he relaxed. Dorian paused in his work just to watch him, heart swelling with a love he rarely spoke aloud but often tried to express. Only when everything was in its proper place did Dorian grab the still steaming mug of cocoa off the table and walk over to the tub. He pulled over a small stool to sit on, leaning with his forearms on the rim of the tub. Dorian smiled as Bull tilted his head to look at him. “Awww, is that for me?” he rumbled, arm dripping with hot water as he brought it up to take the mug from Dorian’s hands.
“Well it’s certainly not for me,” Dorian sniffed, fingers idly swishing through the warm water, “you know it’s too sweet.”
Iron Bull smiled knowingly over the rim of his mug. “Mmmmhmmmm,” he hummed.
“Don’t you sass me!” Dorian said, their argument as old and comfortable as a well-worn pair of boots. He flicked some water up at Bull’s face, “I’m sassing you! If you don’t take the cart and donkey next time you get supplies I’m going to make you sleep in the shed. What good are you to me if you cripple yourself?”
“You’re right!” Bull gasped in mock outrage, the hand not holding the mug pressed against his chest, “Who would carry you around and worship you? You’d have to find some new strapping Qunari youth!”
“Damn straight,” said Dorian haughtily, though the smile curling his lips ruined it, “but you’re so hard to train…I’d have to start from scratch.”
“That’s true,” said Bull solemnly, sipping his sweet chocolate drink, “I think you’re stuck with me.”
There was that throb of warmth, starting from his heart and traveling down to his belly. Dorian smiled, leaning in to press their lips together, “I think you’re right, Amatus.” Bull’s lips were sticky with chocolate, making their kiss so sweet it had Dorian’s toes curling as he licked them clean. His lips parted as Bull’s tongue snaked in, one wet hand cupping the back of his head to pull him a little closer. Dorian pulled back for a breath, the taste of Bull and chocolate heavy on his tongue. It was far too easy to get distracted around The Bull. Something he was well aware of; Dorian forced himself to stand, walking over to a shelf beside their bed as Bull’s eye bore into his back. He returned with a jar of well used horn balm; they’d have to get more soon.
“You don’t have to do that, Kadan,” said Bull warmly.
“Yet here I am, now stop pretending you don’t want it.” Dorian sat back down on his stool, this time positioning it so he was sitting directly behind Bull’s head, “Just relax, Amatus.”
The Bull could do as he was told…sometimes. He shifted in the tub with a sigh, head falling back against the rim of the tub and arms laying out over the sides. Dorian was tempted to crawl in and join him, but it would just lead to them cleaning water off the floor. Instead, he warmed the horn balm in his palms, waiting until it was a comfortable temperature before he started to work it into the base of Bull’s horns. The winter was not kind to him, perhaps even more so than Dorian, though he never complained. The dry cold would cause the skin around his horns to itch and flake, and sometimes Dorian would catch him rubbing up against doorways or trees. So he kept the horn balm stocked up, and rather enjoyed applying it.
Dorian had a method by this point. Start at the base, get the skin smooth and soft, then twist his hands up each horn until it shone. Iron Bull groaned below him, head moving with Dorian’s gentle tugs. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of resistance in him. Dorian smiled to see him so relaxed. He’d earned it. His fingers rubbed up and down each horn, then massaged the sensitive skin at the base until Bull looked like he was about to fall asleep.
“You don’t want to fall asleep in the tub,” Dorian whispered, bending down to press a soft kiss against the top of Bull’s head. “Up.” He tangled their fingers together and stood up, urging Bull out of the tub.
“Mmm, maybe I do,” Bull murmured, eye heavy with exhaustion. Neither of them were as young as they used to be. Bull was strong, but with every year, he slowed down a little more. Dorian helped him stand up and handed him a towel. He eyed him critically as he climbed out of the tub, checking for any hints of pain on Bull’s face or any shaking in his bad leg, but the bath seemed to have done its work; Iron Bull was sturdy as he padded into the bedroom.
Outside it was growing dark, shadows thrown across their floor as the sun set behind the distant hills. Dorian tidied up as Bull climbed into bed. He threw out the old water, put fresh wood on the fire, cleaned out the cauldron and Bull’s empty mug of cocoa so they wouldn’t have to worry about it come morning. It was all so disgustingly domestic…and he loved every second of it. Simplicity was something he’d worked hard to achieve; he would savor it. Dorian joined Bull in the bedroom once his work was done, stripping naked before crawling under the sheets to press himself against Bull’s side, soaking up his warmth with a pleased sigh.
“You spoil me,” Bull whispered in the encroaching darkness. He had one hand stroking idly through Dorian’s hair.
“Don’t read into it,” Dorian murmured against his chest, “you would have stunk otherwise.”
Bull laughed under his breath, “Oh? Is that all?”
“Yes,” said Dorian shortly, fingers curling against Bull’s belly, “it’s certainly not because I love you, you ridiculous man.”
“Of course not,” said Iron Bull, voice a low rumble that Dorian could feel as well as hear. They were silent for a moment, Dorian just listening to Bull’s heart beat just under his ear. As strong as ever, he had to tell himself every day that they both had so many years left. So many more years of quiet domesticity where the world didn’t beg them to save it. They’d earned this. Dorian was about to drop off when Bull spoke again, voice rough with emotion. “I’m lucky.”
“Hmm?” Dorian hummed, swallowing around a suspicious lump in his throat.
“I get to spend forever with you,” Iron Bull said gruffly.
“Well… we have a ways to go until forever,” Dorian breathed, squeezing Bull tightly, “but…I’ll be here.”
“Yeah, me too.”

