For: @justanotherscribblejunkie
From: @siujerkjai
Prompts:
happy ending, if a fic.
some awkwardness.
there’s an accident.
(I tried to incorporate all three.)
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
Under normal circumstances, Dorian would wave off an apology from Sera–if he’d ever heard her apologize for anything, certainly if she sounded as frantic as she did at the moment–but he was a bit busy clutching at the grass beneath him and trying to keep the whimpers in his throat from escaping his lips. Not writhing also became critical when he shifted his hips and a bolt of searing pain radiated out from the arrowpoint dug into his flesh.
The flesh of his ass. Of course. Of course. Because the Maker had an abominable sense of humor.
Pressed against the ground as he was, he felt the vibrations of the rift sealing and heavy footfalls coming in their direction. A large palm settled at the base of his spine, and the welcome warmth shook loose his shock. He sucked in a sharp breath and buried his face in the dirt, squeezing his eyes to prevent their wateriness from coalescing into tears.
“Not your fault, kid,” Bull said. “That demon tossed him right in the way of your shot.”
“He’s lucky it was you,” Lavellan added. “An archer without your reflexes would have put that one through his neck.”
Dorian heard the crunch of dry leaves beside his ear as Lavellan knelt at his head. He cracked an eye open, and from its corner, he tried to focus on the valleslin that to his dizzy mind seemed to squirm about her face.
“Hey, Sparkler,” she said, her tone not ungentle. “You with us?”
“Yes,” he rasped. “Unfortunately.”
Above him, Bull laughed, damn him. Lavellan’s lips quirked into a smirk before she turned to Sera, who stood at the edge of Dorian’s vision, still wringing her hands. The older woman tugged the strap of her satchel over her head and tossed it to the younger.
“Dig out a poultice and a potion,” she ordered.
Sera squatted on the ground and began to paw through the bag. Dorian felt Lavellan’s calloused fingers grip his shoulder, a smaller counterpoint to Bull’s hand still resting on his lower back.
“I’m going to pull it out,” she told Dorian as she pulled a rough linen handkerchief from her pocket. “You ready?”
“No,” he croaked. But when she raised an eyebrow, he sighed, gave her a little nod, and buried his face deeper into the dirt. It still couldn’t quite muffle his shout when the arrow tore free. He bit back on another cry when she pressed the handkerchief to his wound and leaned all of her weight on that hand. When he felt her other hand fumbling with the laces of his trousers, he would not have objected to a fissure opening in the ground and swallowing him whole.
“Fenedhis, Bull,” she griped. “How do these damn things come undone?”
“I got it, boss,” Bull chuckled, and to Dorian’s relief, large male hands replaced small female ones.
“I’ll get some bandages.” Dorian heard Lavellan shuffle to her feet and then pause. “Though I can’t say I know how to wrap someone’s ass.”
“Just fold it up. I’ll hold it on while I carry him back to camp,” Bull volunteered.
Dorian tried to formulate a protest, but Bull was already pulling down the back of his trousers. He at least remained mindful not only of the wound but of keeping Dorian’s front as covered as possible. Dorian heard the crinkle of a waxed vellum envelope as Sera handed over one of Stitches’s poultices. He dug his fingers into the soil but couldn’t help but buck at the sharp sting when the herbal concoction made contact. A moment later, the sting faded as did the worst of the ache. Dorian breathed deep in relief, which only sent bits of dry plant matter down his lungs. He raised his upper body to his elbows, hacking and spitting, tears streaming from his eyes.
“Easy, kadan,” Bull soothed. A vial of elfroot potion pressed against Dorian’s lips, and he drank it down gratefully.
When his coughing fit subsided, he let his head hang down between his shoulders to take a few breaths of clean air. He heard female voices quietly conversing, and he glanced up with still-watery eyes to see Lavellan leading Sera away. Sera looked back once, face still pale and twisted with concern and her hands clutching Dorian’s staff, and he tried his best to summon a reassuring smile.
“You owe me a pint when we return to Skyhold,” he called in a hoarse voice. Her answering smile was too hesitant for his liking, so he added, “I plan to pour it over your head.”
She laughed, albeit weakly, and allowed Lavellan to loop their arms and guide her in the direction of camp. Bull laughed too as he eased Dorian’s trousers up. After some careful shifting and fumbling, Dorian ended up held against Bull’s chest, one of his lover’s hands pressed firmly against his ass and Dorian’s elbows propping him up on one of Bull’s shoulders. He tried to loop his legs around Bull’s waist, but the movement chased another whimper from his lips.
“You’re good,” Bull assured him. “I can handle your weight for the walk back to camp.”
“Or you could put me down and let me walk,” Dorian groused.
“Shit, no,” Bull replied as he turned to follow the others. “I’m not giving up a perfectly good excuse to grope you in public.”
He continued at an easy pace–barely seeming burdened for all that Dorian was not a small man–and Dorian let himself relax into his lover’s embrace. The pain had all but vanished beneath the poultice and the warmth of Bull’s hand, and the potion left his muscles feeling pleasantly loose. His new trousers were probably done for, not to mention…
He hadn’t realized he’d let out a soft sigh until Bull twitched his shoulder to nudge him. “You all right?”
“I’m going to have a scar, aren’t I?” Dorian asked with another sigh.
Bull came to such an abrupt halt that Dorian nearly tumbled out of his arms. From his perch, he and Bull were eye to eye, and that was strange enough without adding in the wide-eyed look of wonder on his lover’s face.
“Venhedis, Bull! What…?”
His heart picked up its pace in automatic response to the predatory grin that crossed Bull’s lips. Against his thighs, Bull’s chest vibrated with a low growl that was usually Dorian’s only warning before he was thrown on a bed or pushed against a wall or bent over the nearest piece of furniture. Under ordinary circumstances, such a response required hours of dedicated teasing on Dorian’s part, and he gaped at Bull, wondering if his lover was going to devour him whole in the middle of the Orlesian countryside.
“Your ass,” Bull rumbled in explanation, “with a scar.”
“Oh, for… really?” Dorian tried for exasperated, but his voice came out closer to breathless.
“Mmmmm,” Bull hummed, and they stood, eyes locked in a lust-filled gaze, for several moments before Bull began to move again. Dorian swallowed with a dry mouth and struggled to regain control of his breath.
“I suppose it will be easy to cover at least,” he noted, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably. Determined that they should both be equally affected, he turned his head and found the ear conveniently placed at the height of his lips.
“No one will even know it’s there,” he purred. “It will be hidden away, only to be revealed to a specific gaze under specific circumstances.”
Bull let out another approving growl. “Sounds like quite an…” He turned to meet Dorian’s eyes with a shit-eating grin. “… ass-et.”
Dorian groaned. “You did not just make a pun out of my serious injury.”
“What?” Bull protested with the least convincing tone of innocence Dorian had ever heard. “I’m just agreeing with your ass-essment.”
With one of his dangling feet, Dorian kicked Bull in the thigh. “Now I wish the arrow had hit me in the neck.”
“Come on, kadan,” Bull drawled. “That would have been cat-ass-trophic.”
“Andraste preserve me,” Dorian muttered, burying his face in Bull’s neck. Then he snapped upright with a jerk, nearly smacking his head on a horn. “And if you call her Andr-ass-te, so help me, I will smite you myself and save the Maker the trouble.”
Open affection filled Bull’s smile. “Nah, I’m done.”
“Truly?” Dorian questioned. “You out of puns?” Despite himself and his fervent dedication to the tenets of good taste, he felt his lips twitching. “I’m ass-tounded.”
Bull’s raucous laugh boomed out over the countryside. The sheer delight in the sound filled Dorian’s chest with warmth, and he had to turn away to hide his own ridiculous grin. He could always blame it on the elfroot later.

