Adoribull Secret Santa: A Paw-us and a Puppy
For @goddamnbees, by oopsbirdficced/dreamychaos
Prompt: -anything about dorian bonding with the chargers – slowing being integrated into their ranks and becoming ~*ONE OF THEM*~ clenches fist
-Anything with dogs. :|a Is Dorian shocked to learn that there’s something to the southern obsession???? DOES HE ADOPT A THREE-LEGGED, ONE-EYED DOG THAT IS WARY OF BULL AT FIRST???? Does Krem find a box of puppies in the snow???? I trust your judgement
(The dogs featured here are loosely based on Pyranese mountain dogs. I will probably write a coda at some point with the bath scene.)
~
“Keep your guard up, Krem!” Dorian sighed dreamily as he watched. Bull being commanding was delightful to watch.
“If my guard goes any higher, it’ll be in the sky with the damned Breach, Chief.” The slightly acerbic reply came courtesy of one Cremisius Aclassi, who was also very easy on the eyes. There was a reason Dorian hadn’t objected too much to being asked to fling the occasional spell for them to deflect. There was a bright, high chuckle from across the fighter’s ring, where Dalish leaned against the fence, also enlisted to spell flinging duty.
She and Dorian met eyes and shared a moment of perfect accord, before they both smirked, and Dorian flung some low level lightning as Dalish called vines to wrap round their legs. Both men were reduced to swearing viciously. Krem had leapt out of the way of the plants and gotten zapped by the lightning, while Bull had blocked the lightning and gotten snared by the plants.
They got themselves sorted out, and we’re about to re-engage, when a small bundle of russet hair and brown and green clothes bolted out to the ring.
“Krem, Krem!” The person who had neatly vaulted to sit atop the low fence was none other than the Inquisition’s own lead scout. Dorian couldn’t quite remember her name. It had something to do with Varric’s books, he was certain. Krem lit up, and with a brief glance at Bull, loped over to greet her.
“Lace, what’s up? Is everything okay?” The man bent to give her a kiss on the cheek, and Skinner wandered up to lean beside Dalish. Maybe not one of Varric’s books then? And he’d been so sure. Bull was going to be disappointed, he’d been trying so hard to get Dorian to remember people’s names. Called it ‘spoiled brat reconciling to the people’ - at least, that had been the last silly moniker. Dorian called it the school of hard knocks’ version of showing him how to be what the South considered to be a decent person. It was definitely an uphill struggle, and the very definition of culture shock. Dorian tuned back in to the conversation.
“…and this great huge idiot decided to give us puppies! I’m not sure if it was out of thanks, or like, some misguided idea of tribute or what, but puppies!” the usually quite level-headed dwarf was practically squealing at the prospect. He’d thought, up til now, that the Fereldan preoccupation with dogs was mostly just exaggeration, and a fondness for displaying national pride. He had a sinking feeling it also extended to the actual furry wiggly beasts. She sounded far too excited about this prospect.
“Okay, then. Shall we go meet some puppies, Chief?” Krem was smiling. Dalish actually looked excited, and Skinner was actually displaying human emotion on her actual face, a faint smile to be precise. And Bull wasn’t objecting, no, he’d turned around and yelled for Grim, Stitches, and Rocky. Dorian had a moment of fleeting horror, looking at Bull, whose face was light, happy, and expectant, and realizing he was actually going to have to go meet the drooling monsters. Ugh.
Krem and Bull departed briefly to remove their weighted armor, and returned in casual clothes. Dorian had recognized this as the prime moment to escape, but Dalish, tricky elf that she was, had engaged him in an interesting magical theory debate, and now he was stuck. Dorian was beginning to suspect a conspiracy.
He trailed after the excited crowd, dispirited, and Bull dropped back to check on him, chuckling when he saw the other man’s expression.
“Don’t look too excited there, Kadan.” He laughed. Dorian sighed dramatically. “Puppies, Kadan. Puppies shouldn’t make you look like you’re walking to the gallows.”
“Puppies are slobbering, clawed, hair-shedding monstrosities.” Dorian grumbled. “My outfit is going to be ruined.”
“Ah.” Bull nodded sagely. “Which means that you’ve secretly wanted one your whole life, but your parents and society being what they were, you couldn’t have one?” Dorian sputtered and huffed. Bull looped an arm around his shoulders and Dorian leaned into his solid, steady bulk, grumbling.
“I’m assuming they’re Mabari?” He asked, resigned. Bull shrugged.
“Hey, Harding! Are they Mabari pups?” He called up to the scout, and Dorian experienced a brief flare of pride. Her name did have something to do with Varric’s books! Sort of.
“We have other dogs than Mabari, you know,” she complained. “These dogs are better than any silly old wardog. These are Frostback Herding Dogs.” She proclaimed, and Stitches visibly brightened.
“You’re joking! Someone just gave us two litters of Frosties? Those dogs are most Fereldan farmers’ most prized possessions!” Stitches was wide eyed, and Harding, Dorian could swear, had little hearts on her eyes. She started gushing about something he couldn’t fillies related to breeding and working dogs, and Dorian sighed slightly, leaning more firmly into Bull’s side. Not cuddling. At all. He was faintly disappointed.
“If they’re not Mabari, they don’t do that weird mystical bonding thing, do they, Amatus?” He asked softly, not wanting to show the extent of his ignorance. He hated being ignorant. Bull chuckled lowly.
“That’s a predominant trait in the Mabari line, yeah, but that sort of loyalty is something they breed for. They might not have a ‘mystical bond’,” here Dorian elbowed his lover for making fun of his choice of words, receiving a smile, a squeeze, and a slightly sore elbow for his trouble. “But they are loyal to a fault. That’s all the fabled Mabari bond is, you know. Unwavering loyalty. In Mabari it’s bred to the extreme, creating a dog who will literally follow one person until one of them dies.” Bull finished his explanation, and Dorian wondered idly on what occasion he’d chanced upon learning this random factoid. He hummed thoughtfully.
He followed the rest of the Chargers through the barn door, and into a stable that had been ringed in hay bales to, presumably, prevent and escapees. He resigned himself, then and there, to replacing his current outfit. He clambered over the hay and through the stall door with the rest of them, and was confronted with the sight of eleven enormous, fluffy white clouds, decorated with straw and dirt. They quickly resolved into giant, young, fluffy dogs, and Dorian gaped slightly.
“Those aren’t puppies! They’re enormous!” He yelped, and Bull positively melted.
“Yes they are, Kadan, just look at the size of their feet!” He gushed, and dragged Dorian down to the floor with him. Dorian yelped again, as a puppy bounded up to him and knocked him over to enthusiastically bathe his face.
“Amatus, help!” He sputtered, flailing uselessly. Bull laughed, pulling the puppy off and propping Dorian up against his side. His moustache was absolutely wrecked, no two ways about it. Dirt and dog slobbering spiked it out oddly, and part of it was sort of smeared up his nose. Bull chuckled, but not unlikely, and leaned over to kiss him. Dorian squawked and tried to redirect him.
“Don’t kiss me, I’m hideous!” He cried, and the Chargers, to a man, laughed. He shot them all glares, but their expressions weren’t malicious, just fond and slightly exasperated.
“Kadan, a bit of dog slobber doesn’t make you hideous. Come on, Dorian.” Bull cajoled, as a small, soft, wet something dabbed gently at Dorian’s hand. He looked down and saw a pup, smaller than the rest, and strangely missing a leg.
“What happened to this one?” he asked, tentatively rubbing one of the puppy’s velvet-soft floppy ears. Harding looked over and her expression softened.
“It’s a birth defect. It happens sometimes, even when the breeders are careful. It’s odd,” she said, with a smile. “That little girl’s the runt of the whole pack. She’s so shy, but she’s cuddling straight up to you.” Harding’s smile grew. “I think you just got claimed, Tevinter.” She teased, and Dorian looked down grumpily at his lap, onto which the three-legged girl pup had curled, filling it perfectly.
“Perfect. A shy pup for a shy man.” Bull proclaimed, and any other day he’d draw around himself a cloak of indignation, and declaim the fact that he was not shy, he just had more refined tastes than any of his present company. He didn’t though. Instead he tucked himself more firmly into Bull’s side, muttering about a cold draft, and skritching his new puppy’s ears. Bull chuckled fondly, pressing a kiss, finally, to Dorian’s pouting mouth before changing the subject.
He held Dorian a little tighter, though, and Dorian relaxed, drifting into a safe, calm brain-space as he combed through thick, tangled, curly white fur with his fingers.
“You need a bath, little one,” he murmured, and there had been an unfortunate lull in the conversation just then. Harding looked up with an unholy grin.
“You know what, Tevinter? You’ve got a good point.” She said slowly, and that grin was contagious. Bull was grinning too, though Dorian had to crane his neck strangely to see.
“Chargers, we have a duty to the Inquisition, and a job to do! Horns up!” Bull laughed, a little manic, but mostly just because. The Chargers were all grinning and figuring out how to organize eleven puppies and a bath, and Dorian just sighed softly, gathering his lapful of slightly smelly, fluffy giant dog a little closer, much to her delight. He dropped a surreptitious kiss atop her head, before leaning up to press a fond kiss to Bull’s jaw.
“Thanks, Amatus.” He murmured. Bull tilted a little further and pressed a brief kiss to Dorian’s lips, despite a small, fussy noise of protest.
“Anytime, Kadan.”
“Anytime, Kadan.”

