#khazadfic

It is generally known that the Green Lanterns from earth end hop in massive cuddle piles when things have gotten too stressful. They sleep in one bed, limbs wrapped around each other, warm and comforting. After she becomes a Green Lantern Jessica Cruz joins this cuddle pile and sticks to Simon while she sleeps.

Batman thinks this is a ridiculous sleeping arrangement. He isn’t jealous, not at all, nope. He thinks its silly and he won’t be dragged into conversations about it so stop asking. The League is a serious group, not a slumber party.

Wonder Woman simply says that they often chose to sleep in groups on Themyscira for comfort and warmth in winter. Its not an unusual idea for her and she thinks its wonderful that the Lanterns have found comfort in one another.

Superman thinks its great. He always wanted to have slumber parties as a kid but it wasn’t really a good idea. Sometimes, when the other league members aren’t around to make comments, he sleeps near the room the Lanterns are using and listens to their hearts beating softly in their sleep.

Barry wants to know why he isn’t invited. Wally complains much the same but in a more annoying voice.

Kyle had watched as his fellow Earth lanterns had digested the news.

John had quirked a smile and offered his congratulations, Simon had done the same (he’d never met the Red Hood and had no idea if he was a good guy or bad). Jessica had looked excited and smiled at him happily. He grinned at her.

Had, on the other hand, made a confused face and glanced at Guy who returned the look.

“You sure about this?”

John glared at him. “He’s happy, that’s all that matters.”

Guy shrugged and clapped a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “Can’t say I approve but its your life kid. If he does anything we’ll get him back for it.”

A round of agreement. Kyle let out a quiet sigh. At lest they cared for him, right?

—-

Jason had only let it slip because Kyle had wanted things in the open. He’d do anything for Kyle, he really liked the guy. But this? It wasn’t what he’d expected.

Tim had actually looked pleased, sharing a happy and contended look with Bruce. Bruce was smiling. Bruce was smiling and it didn’t looked pained or faked. Jason had to pinch himself to check this wasn’t a strange fever dream.

He had expected some kind of sarcastic comment from Dick, was prepared to make a quip about Nightwing’s uneventful love life if he had to.

Dick just crossed his arms and nodded his head once. “You’re a pain in the ass but if he hurts you I hurt him.”

Damian grunted, possibly in agreement. Weird.

He pinched himself again, a little harder, when Bruce stepped up to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “I’m happy for you. Kyle’s a good man, you deserve something good.”

Part 8 – Voice

-

Dorian was talking again. He was reciting something, voice rising and falling as he expressed disdain or disbelief at whatever it is he was reading.

The Bull was laying back against the bed frame, body lax and boneless after the long days travel back to Skyhold from the Hinterlands. Dorian had already been in his bed when he’d gotten to his room. Naked, fire in his eyes, and the Bull had fucked him until neither of them could move.

Clearly Dorian wasn’t tired enough to sleep, though. He had picked up a book from beside the bed (and when had he started keeping books in Bull’s room?) and began to read.

“But really, how could a mage even accomplish that sort of ritual without at least losing their own limbs? Absurd,” he muttered the last word, flicking the page over and resumed his reading. “The three witnesses were later found to be false. Well, of course, anyone would have known they were lying. Honestly.”

The Bull listened with half his attention on the words, the other half just on the sound of them. Dorian’s accent was sharp, precise, the pronunciation of the words foreign to Bull’s ears. The ‘Vints he had listened to in his old life had spoken in Tevene. Dorian didn’t unless he was cursing or really being fucked.

Dorian’s voice was pretty damn beautiful. It had two main modes; dangerously harsh or dangerously soft. When he was angry his voice was like ice, despite his fiery temper. Dorian could say little (though he rarely did) and you would be left with shards of ice in your chest. His words became clipped, the sounds harsh and brittle. When he was happy, however, it was far more dangerous.

Honey. Honey or chocolate, Bull couldn’t decide. But Dorian’s voice was smooth and seductive when he was in a good mood. He would stretch the vowels, elongate his words and damn his mouth was so pretty when he spoke like that… It was a distraction. The Bull had found himself missing half of Dorian’s conversations because of his voice, his lips, his mouth.

Like he was missing this one.

Dorian punched his arm. “You’re not even listening, are you? I suppose you wouldn’t be interested in arcane theory, really, would you?” His voice changed, took on a bored tone that was entirely false. He placed a marker between the pages and put the book down.

“Maybe next time you could bring something a little more my type,” the Bull suggested.

“Like what? How To Disembowel Anything With More Than Two Limbs In Less Than Ten Seconds? Hardly appropriate literature for the bedroom,” Dorian tipped his head and raised a brow. His voice lifted at the question, lowered to the last statement. It was like listening to art.

The thing that really got to Bull was how it wasn’t Dorian’s voice crying out in pleasure that stuck in his mind when he was away. It was all the little inflections, the curled r’s and clipped vowels. It was just the way Dorian spoke generally. Bull loved that just as much, if not more than Dorian crying out his name. He hated to hear doubt or pain in that beautiful voice. Hated to think that Dorian would ever have to sound like that near him. 

5 - “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

–

It was infuriating, really, that he was reduced to such an emotion. Cullen was a man of honour, priding himself on his new-found control. He was one of the few ex-Templars to stop taking Lyrium completely, he had pledged himself to a goal and had seen that through. He was the commander of the reborn Inquisition’s forces. 

To be jealous like this was degrading. He saw the Inquisitor ( “Hasting, please, we’ve known each other too long to go by titles”) placing soft touches on Dorian’s skin, kissing him, Dorian doing the same in return and… He ached. A twist in his stomach, prickling in the back of his throat. It was maddening and it was pitiful.

48 - Boo

–

It was the most relaxed he had been in months. There was homemade food in his belly, a good movie on TV and no responsibility for the next three days. Unless something attacked Earth. But that wasn’t so likely to happen…

Hal sat back on his couch and sank into the soft cushions. He was warm and comfortable. He had a beer in hand and nothing could be better. 

Except for the fact the window suddenly burst open and frightened the shit out of him. 

And, just to make things better, it was Sinestro. It was always Sinestro. 

“Shit you scared the hell out of me!” Hal shouted, picking himself up from the crouched position he’d taken on the damn floor. 

Sinestro considered him coolly, looking him up and down. “Boo.”

Okay, that had to have been a joke. Sinestro hardly ever joked. It wasn’t in his DNA. “Did you barge through my window just to make a joke? I’m assuming you’re here for more of a reason than that.”

“I need to borrow your lantern, my ring is low on power and my own battery is on Oa.”

“That doesn’t explain why you nearly put a hole in my building,” he said, crossing his arms. Sinestro ducked his head slightly, almost sheepishly, and mirrored Hal’s body language. 

Dorian rubbed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned heavily back in his chair. This was his life now; engaging in childish trickery with the largest child he had ever known. He looked up at Bull and shook his head. 

“Let me get this straight. You want to sneak into the kitchens in the middle of the day, as they prepare food, and take several items you won’t describe to me in order to place them in secret locations around Skyhold.”

“That’s about it, yeah,” the Bull grinned. 

Dorian bemoaned (albeit half heartedly) the state of his current life and resigned himself to it. “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had.”

Bull frowned slightly, an apology already forming on his lips. 

“Of course I’m in.”

The frown disappeared and the following smile lit up his face like a Midwinter bonfire. Truly it was a beautiful sight, if a little terrifying when one thought of the inevitable consequences. 

And, of course, the kitchen staff caught them. And, again of course, Bull managed to sweet talk them into “giving up the goods”. They wandered around Skyhold placing fruit pies and sweet rolls into the packs and hands of weary soldiers and mages. Dorian was only slightly surprised when one flavoured with cinnamon was placed in his own hand as the sun started to set. 

“You don’t eat enough,” Bull said in answer to the unasked question. 

Dorian nibbled on the pastry and ignored the warmth gathering in his body at the simple, thoughtful, wonderfully Bull action.