Pairing: (pre) Cullen/Krem
Warnings/Additional Tags: talking about bad binding habits, fluff, crush, mentions of dysphoria
Summary: This fic is specially dedicated to my new binder which is awesome but also one day will probably break me in half.
Krem ignored his back pain with years of practice when he went to sleep but it was becoming more of an issue when it refused to go away in the morning. He tried stretching out as subtly as possible but Stitches eyes were immediately on him.
"Your back is bothering you?"
"It's nothing, don't worry about it," Krem said quickly, sitting up straight and ignoring Stitches' unimpressed look.
"We've talked about this, Krem. You need to be more careful."
"It's fine! I've done the same thing for years in the army and it was... alright. Oh, stop worrying. I'm just no longer used to it!"
"And a few years older with more injuries on your record and a longer history of abusing your upper body."
Krem frowned.
"... Are you calling me old?"
"You will always be a child to me," Bull assured him walking into the room just to start a day with a good breakfast and an impressive eye-roll from his favourite lieutenant.
"Thanks, chief."
Stitches would not be derailed.
"He's playing a dangerous game with his binding again."
"Now that sounds more like me than Krem."
"Leave him be," Rocky tuned in and now apparently it was an all-Chargers issue.
Just a usual mercenary business. Meet in the tavern's backroom for breakfast and talk shop so everyone stays updated. Chief just returned from three weeks long mission with the Inquisitor, Stitches needed volunteers to drag to the woods and collect herbs, they finally received the payment for their last job in Orlais, and oh, yeah, Krem was binding too tight and for too long.
"He came back after last training with the recruits panting like a dog, he could barely catch a breath."
"Oh, now I'm old and out of shape."
"Binding this tightly for the whole day while sparing and training recruits is just dangerous. Maker's breath, I'm your healer, not a nanny. You know this perfectly well. Either cut hours and take breaks for breathing or just skip full binding and keep the armour for..." Stitches finally lost the momentum of his rant and gestured vaguely with his hand, "You know."
"Aesthetics?" Rocky suggested helpfully making Grimm snicker.
"But his armour doesn't show off his ass," Skinner protested and Krem pointed at her happily seeing someone was finally on his side before he realized what she said.
"No, wait, what? That- That doesn't have anything to do with this."
"Waiting for him to make a move might take a while," Dalish agreed sympathetically.
Krem carefully made sure not to look at the Iron Bull who was oddly quiet and his eye just kept moving between them, clearly catching on the developments he missed while he was stuck at Wounded Coast with the Inquisitor. Oh well, he came back with a Vint boyfriend from one of those trips. Let's see how he felt on the other end of that bargain.
Not that Krem had a boyfriend.
"It's not so easy and you very well know it."
"Sure it is," assured Stitches. "You go and say, hello handsome, do you like the look of me in this armour? I look even better without it and when I can actually breathe. - Wait can you actually speak that long once you're panting like a dog?"
"Stick to short sentences," advised Skinner.
"It's not that easy because he most likely doesn't like guys. And if he doesn't like guys then he won't like me. Or worse, he will like me despite not liking guys. And he might already know this or he might not know about me and he doesn't know why he likes me despite me being a guy and when he finds out it will be really awkward. Or maybe he does like guys and it will only be worse."
Finally, there was a moment of silence around the table.
"Going on a limb here, since I clearly missed a bit of foreplay, but is it possible you've been overthinking it a little, oh Krem de la Creme?"
"Absolutely not! I was very careful to overthink it A LOT."
Bull snorted and patted him on the back, careful to avoid any extra painful spots but paused quickly seeing how Krem tensed already and winced in pain. He just looked down at him and Krem sighed.
"I know, I know. I'll just wear armour today."
"And tell your boy you wanna do him over his desk," suggested Rocky.
"All in good time," assured Bull as Krem just threw cheese at the dwarf.
-
"Krem? A word?"
Krem ran a hand over his forehead, wiping off the sweat. He nodded, already moving towards Cullen who stood unobtrusively next to the training ground. Just Krem's luck to actually speak with the Commander when his armour didn't lay on him exactly as he would prefer. Logically he knew the soldiers would have to try hard to even notice but logic rarely was able to battle the tricks his mind tried to play on him. At least, he cheered himself, he had some breath to speak with.
"Commander?"
"I just wanted to make sure you were in good health, you seemed... unwell, yesterday."
Krem winced. So much for his aches and pains being easily managed and hidden.
"I'm fine," he assured, thinking fast and looking up at Cullen.
The man didn't seem worried like Stitches did, Stitches was a friend and a healer and knew better than anyone how far Krem could push his spine and ribs when he felt worse about his torso. Still, Cullen didn't look like a commanding officer annoyed that he will need to replace the man he talked with. He was frowning at Krem, his gaze focused and serious as if he was faced with the most important problem. As if it barely mattered if he was thinking the strategy to take on Corypheus' general or making sure Krem was alright.
Krem sighed, the whole daydreaming and overthinking could only go so far. And if Cullen turned out to be a dick about it, he could probably just knock him out on his ass. And if he couldn't, Chief would. It wouldn't do them any favours but Bull punched more important people for smaller offences. Krem squared down his shoulders, looking nonchalantly away as if it was just another calm chat they had leaning on the training rings' rails. Best techniques to train fresh recruits, tactics for fighting with and against mages, running training with your chest wrapped tightly enough to bruise...
"I overdid it a bit with binding my chest. Don't worry, I already had a talking to with Stitches... It was just a while since I was this close to being in the army, I think my old habits of trying extra hard came out." Cullen was blinking at him, clearly surprised and Krem bit down on a sigh and went for a reassuring smile instead. "Don't worry about it, Commander."
So much for the crush.
Cullen looked away from him as well. His hand going to his neck as he scratched it awkwardly.
"I-" he coughed. "Of course. I- We can also plan the training better, so you could have sufficient breaks."
"There's no need, I am perfectly capable-"
Cullen just raised his hand to silence him.
"I've no doubt. However training new recruits, while crucial to our cause, is not a task that cannot be scheduled in a better way. We may yet need you soon on a battlefield, I would rather not risk your abilities being limited then due to back pain or breathing issues."
Krem just stared, nodding slowly.
"It's a bit jarring how I went from being kicked out of the army for this," he said with a somewhat confused smile, "to having training rescheduled around me for my comfort. Templars get some special inclusiveness training or something?"
Cullen snorted, flashing him a smile. His hand clenched nervously around his swords handle.
"Hardly. Templars..." He paused and looked at Krem again as if he was trying to decide on what to say and looking for a suggestion. He sighed quietly and continued in a slightly lower voice: "Templars are not allowed to ask a healer to change their bodies in a major way until they're eighteen and completed their vows. There.... There's a lot of training before that."
He licked his lips nervously but his gaze never wavered from Krem, urging him to understand the unspoken implications. Krem nodded shortly, his eyes wide in surprise. He smiled brightly seeing the relief on Cullen's face. If any lingering recruits passed them and saw them smiling at each other silently for a long moment, they were smart enough to just keep walking.
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“You don’t have to worry, I’m never going to touch you.”
Dorian didn’t know what he had expected to happen. All he did know was that, regardless of their circumstances, it was something that needed to be addressed. It was up to his future bride whether it came across as an insult or a comfort.
A Tevinter woman would have taken it as the former, rallying against him in every possible way. Yet Cullen was far harder to read. All that followed was a furrow of the brow and a slight downward twitch to the corners of her lips before she collapsed down into one of the ornate chairs.
“I don’t see how that matters,” she said. “You wouldn’t know how to anyway.”
It was foolish, of course, but Dorian had never backed down from pursuing a challenge and it stung at his pride to imagine there was one he couldn’t find a way around. “Perhaps not in the finer principals,” he admitted, “but from what I’ve heard it’s all a rather straightforward venture.” He waved his hand in an absent arc. “It’s of little matter, regardless. I won’t take offense to you taking lovers more educated about a woman’s body than myself. We will simply have to find a way of keeping it from watchful eyes.”
“That’s not right,” Cullen muttered.
Dorian’s brows arched upwards. “It might not be under their rules,” he said, “but there is no reason for us to suffer for the sake of honor. Plenty of women do it here, even those that claim to be happily married--”
Cullen slammed her hand down on the table, effectively numbing Dorian’s tongue for once. “But I’m not a woman!” She paused, widening eyes lingering on the overturned cups and skewed platters, as if realizing just how sharp her outburst had been. There was a flare of color across her cheeks before she buried her face in her hands. “I’m not.”
Dorian would be lying if he said he recovered from that easily. Instead he stood there, no doubt looking the idiot, as his mind scrambled to review all the facts. Including the stories about how his bride had had to be recovered. How his mother had clucked her tongue over how barbaric the South had to be to make their woman feel as though they had to disguise themselves as men to join their silly Templar Order.
Oh.
“I didn’t... That is to say...” Dorian sighed, dropping down to one knee at his betrothed’s side so that he could look up at Cullen. “I should have known better. I have a friend, Maevaris, and she’s...well...she is quite the same and...”
Cullen seemed to take pity on Dorian, lowering her...his hands to end the rambling. “I... Could I meet her?”
“I don’t see why not,” Dorian said. “She’s been clambering to meet you all but since you arrived.” His smile was a little more certain when Cullen blushed again. He reached out for Cullen’s hand, relief easing out his next breath when he didn’t pull away. “I might not know all that I should, but I am willing to learn.”
Cullen’s smile was small, but it was also the first one Dorian had seen since his betrothed had been dragged to Tevinter. And when he raised Dorian’s hand to his mouth to press a kiss to his knuckles, Dorian felt as though all the breath had been knocked from his lungs. “That is more than enough.”
