with fingers intertwined
ficathon: kinkster's paradise I kink bingo 1/25 - semi-public space
fandom: dragon age: inquisition
characters: aatami x dorian
tw: mild sexual content I prompt
when i feel down, i want you above me.
Aatami has made a habit of curling up in the library at this point - he never meant to, but he can't wander Skyhold all night long, especially since he never has a hint of where exactly some of the people sleep, if they sleep at all, and he has no desire to run into Cole in the middle of the night, because no matter how much he likes the boy, he simply preferes his solitude over company. He prefers watching the moon set over Skyhold, the light weirdly illuminating the Elfroots in the garden, the rough wind on the castle walls, clouds hastily vanishing into the dark of the winter sky.
A part of him hopes he'll still be alive when the summer comes, because he loves Skyhold with all his heart, loves the vast walls and towers, the hidden wine cellar and short cuts, loves his quarters, even if they feel empty to him, especially at night, when he's the only breathing soul in the dark with only the wind howling against the windows and curtains, when all the nightmares come crashing down on him and no one is there to hold him - he could ask, and he knows plenty of people would offer themselves to him, he's the Inquisitor, after all - maybe sleeping with him comes with more benefits, and he figures most people are desperate enough to give it a shot.
Except he's not desperate enough to let anyone see him as desperate as he is.
So instead he roams Skyhold all night, slow footsteps on the stone floor, when the weather isn't as chilly as it is at the moment, he finds himself in the garden, staring up at the cloudy night sky, his hand itching and burning like it ushers him to do something, go slay some demons at least, if you are too stupid to sleep, but of course he even manages to fail his own hand. But right now, the night sky is too often covered in snowflakes, drifting towards the grass, clinging to his hair like the white color draws them to it, but of course that's just his imagination, imagination that's far too vivid for his own good, ever since the fade - he sees the spiders everywhere, especially at night, from the corner of his eyes, but when he looks, they vanish, creeping back into the shadows, whispering of betrayal and despair. He understands them, these days, clearly, and sometimes he wants to beg them to stay, to tell him what to do.
Instead he finds himself in the library again, crouched on the window sill, his head leaning against the cold glass, and even here it's cold enough for his breath to collapse into white smoke, with only embers left in the fireplace. The world is awfully cold and awfully quiet and he feels so desperately lonely - if carving his heart of his chest with his bare hands would give him company, he would do it, only for something else to be on his mind except the burning sensation of phantom pain in his hand.
He thinks a lot about giving up, during the nights, and putting himself together each morning with little sleep and dark circles under his eyes gets harder each day - he dreams about being a Dwarf, sometimes, if only for the unability to dream. Instead, the only way for him to avoid the dreams is to keep himself from sleeping, and it's not half as hard as it's supposed to be at this point.
“Shouldn't you, of all people, be resting?”
His first instinct is his staff, but it's not there, not where it should be - instead he just bangs his ellbow against the old stone and flinches at the sudden pain. this is skyhold, he tells himself, i am save here. Truth is, he thought he was save in Haven, and none of them was,
and he's not save in Skyhold either because there's not a place in the world where Corypheus can't find him.
It takes him everything to push the thought away and to breathe.
“Are you alright? Aatami?”
Something about the way he says his name makes him snap back into reality, except reality isn't much better than the inside of his head, but at least there's Dorian, so that's a plus. He's moved closer, in the dim light of the library, and Aatami wants to sigh, because he of all people had to find him here and lying to Dorian feels just like beating the odds - it gets harder every time. He desperately wants him to leave, while at the same time he wants nothing more than him to stay - except maybe a night of good sleep and the world to be at peace again, but it's a close call. Wanting Dorian this much is dangerous, even worse than dangerous, it's mad and foolish and Aatami hopes it will only ruin him, not both of them. He can handle a little more ruination, he figures.
He blinks. “Yes. Everything is fine.”
“You know I'd love to believe you, but this”, Dorian's gesture involves the whole room in a very vague way, but Aatami figures he means the fact that they are talking in the library at night, while both of them really should be sleeping, “doesn't really support your statement.” Aatami resist the urge to cross his arms in hopeless defence, because there's no use. That doesn't mean he likes where this is going - because a part of him knows what Dorian is about to say. “I just like being out here.”
“We are in a building.” Aatami doesn't want to roll his eyes, but he ends up doing it anyways, and Dorian's grin is only a shadow of his usual smile, like he's happy to see him happy, and the thought feels tempting and dangerous.
“I like Skyhold at night”, he admits, and Dorian tilts his head, “it feels peaceful. Calm. It makes me feel better.”
“Who exactly are you lying to?”, it's not even a real question and Aatami feels the anxiety clawing their way up in his throat. He gulps it down again, resting heavily in his stomach, pulsing against his ribcage next to the responsibilities.
“Well, what do you want to hear?”, there's desperation seeping through his voice that he can't control and he hates himself for it.
Dorian reaches out to him, half a moment, until his fingers hover over Aatami's chest, and there's a sadness that's unfamiliar in his eyes, until Aatami understands that it mirrors his own. For the first time in years, he feels like crying, no matter if someone is witnessing it.
“All the lies you tell yourself, or the truth - whatever you want to tell me, Aatami.”
“What if I don't want to tell you anything?”, his bare willpower keeps his voice from cracking.
For a blink of a moment Dorian's fingers brush across his cheek.
“I'm not going anywhere, you know. You have enough stuff to care about, I don't need to trouble you even more.”
“I'd like trouble as long as it involves you”, he jokes, because what he really wants to say is yes, i need some peace and quiet, but i'd rather spend all of this by your side than alone, and if this is supposed to be casual, he isn't good at it.
Dorian's chuckle is almost quiet. “I appreciate it, but I think more trouble is really not what you need.”
“Maybe you're right”, he sighs, half-hearted. “Of course I'm right.” He admires Dorian, sometimes, most times, for his seemingly unshakeable confidence, because Dorian believes in it so much more than Aatami does in his own confidence, but he figures it gets a lot harder being the Herald of Andraste, because how much confidence is a chosen one of a god supposed to have? It's a selfish thought, but he can't push it away, no matter how hard he tries.
“If you know me that well, what do I need?”, this time, Aatami almost smiles, and maybe it's what Dorian does to him - not getting him away from the breaking point, but instead he simply offers him a hand to take a couple of steps back.
He pretends to be thinking about it, but Aatami can see the humour in his eyes.
“At least twelve hours of sleep, a decent meal, a break, and oh, me, of course.”
Aatami raises an eyebrow at the wink Dorian adds to the end of the sentence - the sad thing is, he's right, about all of those things, but maybe it's not that sad after all. “Being Inquisitor is a full time job”, he adds in reply, but Dorian rolls his eyes.
“You're only human, sometimes you should act like it. Just take a break.”
“Technically, I'm not human”, Aatami smirks, but it vanishes quickly. “I can't just take a break, Dorian. It wouldn't be fair. There are people out there who need me, or what I stand for, I can't just -” A gesture shuts him up.
“Aatami, no one benefits from you working yourself to death. And I mean, you weren't working here at night.” He has a point, and Aatami isn't fond of the point. He avoids eye contact, stares at the dark book shelves instead, trying to form words that don't really come out right. Dorian reaches out to him again, but this time, his hands linger, cupping his face. His voice is barely a whisper. “I could help you out with taking a break. Even if that's indeed very selfish of me, but maybe we would both gain.”
Aatami hesitates, or at least he really wants to hesitate, because it's the middle of the night and they are in the library and he feels so weary and worn-out, but it's the middle of the night and they are in the library and no one is around and no one will be around and kissing Dorian feels so much better than the nightmares.
He wants to kiss him again as soon as they part - Aatami wants a lot of things while wanting none at all, he wants the world to be okay and he wants to be okay and he wants Dorian so much it hurts, fingers entangled in his hair, pale skin against brown strands of soft hair and Aatami clings to it, clings to Dorian like he's his only lifeline and maybe he is.
His back collides with one of the bookshelves and the laughter that bubbles up in his chest feels too real to deny it, because what they are doing is ridiculous, and maybe ridiculous was exactly what he needed. “How will you ever spend time in this library again”, he breathes the words out, and somehow Dorian manages to undo the buttons of his shirt without looking, faster than Aatami himself would've managed it. “With fond memories”, he smirks, and it's not even a real reply, but Aatami doesn't care, he doesn't care about anything except his hands in Dorian's hair and Dorian's hands on him and teeth and skin and harsh breathes.
It's a chaotic mess, but it's exactly what he needed, too fast to think, he's left with nothing except his body, reacting, craving, and he's very glad that no one else will see him like this, their Herald of Andraste, except he's just Aatami, and Dorian's name is the only thing left on his mind and it's the only prayer he'll ever need, a moaned prayer for absolution, and he lets himself fall apart in Dorian's arms, in a different way than he had expected, but it doesn't matter - none of it does, they are just two nameless people in a giant universe, colliding, interlocking their lives, and when Dorian kisses him, breathlessly, Aatami buries his face in Dorian's shoulder, whispering his name, a mess of limbs and skin and chaos, but with Dorian's arms wrapped around him, he almost feels whole. Almost okay.
“Stay with me”, he whispers, and his voice cracks.
“As long as you want me to”, Dorian mumbles against his neck, pulling him closer, only a little.
Aatami's “What if that means staying forever?” is choked, almost painful, and he lifts his head long enough to see Dorian smile.
“I would give forever my best try for you.”
Aatami falls asleep in his quarters, arms wrapped around Dorian's upper body, and for the first time in months, his sleep is dreamless.