from @ichigo-otaku (a wonderful, wonderful pinch-hitter) for @adaarkadan
“You cannot be serious?” Dorian asks. He is standing in the doorway of his and the Bull’s small apartment (well, what feels small, given that the Bull is a broad monster of a man and can make any living space feel tiny), his arms crossed over his chest and one foot tapping on the floor in disappointment.
The Bull and Krem are standing in the doorway, both of them grinning and holding various objects in his direction. They’re each wearing Christmas sweaters and Santa hats, the Bull even has one on the end of each horn. Krem’s holding a hat out for in Dorian, while the Bull extends a matching sweater in Dorian’s direction.
It’s endearing, if only the Bull’s sweater didn’t read something so crude as “Personal ride of one Dorian Pavus,” and it even has a cute little snowman underneath the caption with a mustache similar to Dorian’s. The sweater in his hands says “Sorry, I only ride the Iron Bull” and is decorated by mini sets of the Bull’s horns. Those, too, have little santa hats on the ends.
“Kadan,” the Bull says, his voice in the tune he uses when he wants to get something out of Dorian. “I think you’d look rather handsome in it. Won’t you put it on for the Christmas party at the tavern? The boys are already waiting for us, and they all pitched in to buy us the set.”
Dorian isn’t hesitant to send Krem a venomous glare, which has Krem responding with a smirk. At least he has the decency to wear a sweater that has some modesty to it, and he must have gotten it second hand from the Bull, as it’s a little large on him and sports a set of reindeer in the midst of a celebratory Christmas romp. Dorian knows he’s seen the Bull wearing something similar once before, in fact he wouldn’t be surrpised if they also had a matching set.
“And if I refuse?” Dorian asks as he turns back to the Bull. Who is pushing the sweater closer, somehow, and nearly has it pressed against Dorian’s chest. “I would much rather wear something more festive, perhaps that lovely pajama set you bought for me? I think that would be a far better choice than this.”
“Well yeah, you’d look good in that too,” the Bull says, and Dorian knows the Bull is already picturing him in said pajamas. It really was a lovely set, a pair of pants decorated with festive mustaches and a red shirt to match it. They were entirely too comfortable to be considered fashionable, but Dorian favors them for lounging around the house, and he loves the way the Bull stares at him while he’s in them. “But I think you’d look even better with the sweater. It’s pretty warm, you won’t get too cold easily. And…” he leans in to whisper in Dorian’s ear. Krem doesn’t bother hiding an eye roll and a sigh. “If you want, I can give you something to remember it by when we get back tonight.”
Dorian takes his offer into consideration. “You wouldn’t be partial to any sort of suggestions?” he asks. “Because only one thing is going to get me in that sweater at the moment. But Cremisius is here, and we don’t want to keep him waiting.”
“If it has anything to do with you and your dicks, just get it over with. We’ve gotta be there by the end of the hour,” Krem says. “Chief.”
“Hey, not my suggestion,” the Bull says with a grin, already pushing Dorian back into the apartment. “Be back in a couple minutes.”
Krem rolls his eyes again and reminds them not to take too long before the door slams shut. He turns away from it as there’s a bang on the other side, reaching up to rub his face when a not so quiet moan slips through.
—–
The Bull is careful as he carries two mugs into the living room. They’re rather large, mugs that Dorian picked out at some point and demanded they use for the rough mornings. The Bull prefers to use them for nights like this, where he and Dorian are both there, no plans for the evening beyond relaxing on their couch. Both mugs are filled with hot chocolate; a subtle cinnamon for Dorian and sweet whipped cream for the Bull.
Dorian has his nose buried in a book, bundled in one of the blankets the Bull loves most. There’s another one thrown over his shoulders, a temporary hood over his head as he continues to read. The Bull snorts as he sits next to him, careful while he puts his own mug on the nearby coffee table. “Got enough blankets there, kadan?” he asks.
“Quiet. If we had an actual fire place, I wouldn’t need to bundle up this way,” Dorian says, a pointed glare at the recorded fire they’re playing on their television. “This does not have the same effect, Bull. No matter how much you insist, it will not produce heat.”
“You know, we don’t need a fire place if we cuddle up close,” the Bull says. He wiggles his eyebrows and leans in to take Dorian’s book from his hands. Dorian gives him a small glare and reminds the Bull to mark his page, but he doesn’t resist as the Bull starts pulling away the blankets. “C'mere, Dorian. Sip on some hot chocolate with me?”
“Terribly domesticated, aren’t we?” Dorian asks, but he scoots closer. The Bull is already wrapping one of the blankets around them, not minding as Dorian crawls into his lap. Dorian reaches for their mugs before settling, holding the Bull’s while the blanket is tucked in all the right places. Dorian lets out a content sigh and leans into the Bull’s chest. “Alright, I suppose this is a better alternative to a fire place.”
“Good. You don’t play with fire well,” the Bull laughs. Dorian rolls his eyes and swallows his response with his drink. “And, hey, if you want, there’s sugar cookies in the kitchen?”
“I know. I could smell them as you were baking. You’re quite terrible at covering that up,” Dorian says. “Shall we decorate them together once we’ve finished here?”
It’s the Bull’s turn to laugh. “And here I thought I was the only domestic one.”
—–
No matter how many times they watch the snow fall, it was always something Dorian can consider magical. He finds the Bull’s excitement for it rather endearing, something he thinks he will never tire of. The Bull has a habit of watching the weather forecasts a little harder when they’re anticipating snow, or preemptively calling off work just to stay up and see the snow fall. Sometimes, Dorian joins him.
Most times, the best view of the snow comes in the morning, and Dorian isn’t surprised when those mornings turn out to be the most abrupt awakenings. “Dorian, look at the snow!” the Bull’s voice booms through their bedroom, louder than Dorian is really ready to handle at the hour.
“Mmn, amatus please,” Dorian groans, pulling the blanket- or maybe two, the Bull was kind enough to let Dorian throw an extra on their bed- over his head. “It’s still too early to be so enthusiastic about the weather.”
“C'mon, kadan, we can build snowmen and have a snowball fight with the boys,” the Bull says. His grin is evident in his voice, and Dorian knows there isn’t anything that can talk the Bull down from getting outside right this second. In fact, the sound of the Bull’s phone buzzing every few seconds on the night stand makes Dorian think that he’s not alone in the enthusiasm; Sera is probably texting about the snow and asking if the Chargers have any plans, while Dalish is informing the Bull that they’re already on their way over.
“Can’t I at least get a few more minutes of sleep while we wait for the children to arrive?” Dorian asks. There’s a dip in the bed next to him, only a second warning before the Bull’s hands are sliding under the blankets. “I’m rather enjoying my cocoon of warmth.”
“We gotta get a head start on them. If we build up a fortress, they’ll never win the snowball fight.” The Bull’s hands are pressing in teasing places all over Dorian’s skin, making him squirm under the blankets. “Come on, Dorian. Let’s go out there!”
Dorian sighs and gives in without a second argument. He takes his time getting up and dressed, even though the Bull is quickly putting on warmer pants and boots. He opts out of a shirt due to excitement, and Dorian hardly has the time to throw a scarf around the Bull’s shoulders before the Bull runs outside. By the time Dorian is able to make it outside- a cup of coffee in his gloved hands because he still needs something to help him wake up- the Bull is already in the process of building a stash of snowballs behind a half formed snow wall.
“Amatus, you’ll catch cold if you stay out here without a shirt on!” Dorian says before he takes a sip of his drink.
The Bull doesn’t seem to care, just makes a noise of acknowledgement over his shoulder. Dorian stands on the sideline with his coffee, smiling and offering warmth when the Bull complains his hands are too cold.
It isn’t too long before the Bull’s boys arrive, helping themselves in through the front door and out the back within a few seconds. Krem is already carrying a snowball and lobs it towards the Bull the moment he steps back outside. Dorian doesn’t have time to react to the idea of a snowball in the apartment before a barrage of them come flying in his direction. Thankfully, he is able to dodge and use Skinner as a shield.
He still doesn’t bother jumping in when the snowball fight turns into the Bull versus his boys, even though the Bull is calling out for his help despite not needing it. Dorian just continues to watch, and with a smile casually reminds the Bull to put on a shirt once more. Offers his own hands for warmth, which the Bull gladly accepts after losing a round.
And when they all crowd into the kitchen once more for hot chocolate and leftover cookies, Dorian insists the Bull puts on that wretched sweater to match the one hiding under his winter coat, and hold’s the Bull’s hand while they warm up.

