Chapter Text
“Please, listen to me,” Adaar said, trying hard to remain upright and with his dignity intact. This was a slightly harder feat than usual, and courtesy of several pints of... something. He and the Bull were the only ones remaining – the others having given up for the night or been dragged away by their more sober companions – and was really quite irritated to see that of the two he was the one worse for wear. “You have got to start wearing more armour on the battlefield. You've got to.”
He tried to take another sip of his drink, spilt most of it down his front, and gave it up as a lost cause. With any luck the Iron Bull wouldn't have noticed.
(He had, of course. Bastard.)
“I'm not getting hurt any more than anyone else out there,” Bull said fairly – and worse, without any slurring. Adaar had passed that point hours ago. “Everyone gets scratched up. I'm just saving coin on equipment.”
“I'm not talking about...” Adaar gritted his teeth in preparation for a word that was not going to come out without a fight, “practicality, or anything. Just saying that you've got to stop... s'distracting,” he finished, the last word more or less a mumble.
“You're drunk,” said Bull, with the keen perception of a Qunari spy. He took another swig from his tankard, and Adaar thought he noticed just a bit of a sway as he did so. (Though there was the distinct possibility that that was all him.)
“And you're distracting,” Adaar repeated, more clearly this time. “With your... chest. And back.”
“My back is distracting?”
“Don't act like you don't know it,” Adaar said severely. “You're endangering our mission.”
“With my back.”
“And your front.” It was important not to do the front a disservice. The front had so many wonderful qualities as well. “Distracting.”
“Right.” The Iron Bull got to his feet, with a slight stagger that Adaar was almost certain he hadn't imagined. “So, how about we call it a night?”
Adaar stared at his still half-full tankard. He was sure there was a reason he'd drank so much to begin with, but couldn't for the life of him remember what it was. “Well, if you're giving up already...”
“Yes, it would seem so.” Bull leaned slightly on the table for support – the table, in return, gave a creak of protest. “I might need some assistance getting to my room, in fact.”
“Lightweight,” Adaar said, getting to his own feet on slightly shaky legs, and wrapping one arm around Bull's shoulders. It did seem like Bull was taking more of his weight than vice versa, but obviously that was just testament to his incredible strength. Obviously.
---
The next day – in the afternoon, after everyone had finished either feeling sorry for themselves or laughing at those who did – Adaar sent word out that they were to do a sweep of the immediate area. It wasn't really of utmost importance, and he didn't expect to find much, but it was something that he could contemplate doing without his head attempting to split in two, and doing nothing would draw Cassandra's wrath. He wasn't a coward, but he did have common sense.
It should have been fairly straight forward – had he not been met with a most unfortunate surprise. The Iron Bull, decked in armour that he'd somehow squeezed himself into and that covered everything past his neck. Even his hands – which Adaar would absolutely deny staring at (and wondering about), ever – were hidden in a huge pair of gauntlets.
It was sensible, it was practical, and Adaar thought that in his sensitive, hungover state he actually might shed a tear.
“I took your advice to heart,” Bull explained, as though this excused the torment he was putting him through. “Wouldn't want to endanger the mission.”
“Well.” Adaar cleared his throat, and made a point of avoiding the Iron Bull's eyes – a difficult feat, considering that normally he was the only one at his eye level – as he continued, “It's possible I was a little... hasty. I'm sure your normal armour provides a certain... moveability, and, uh...”
“Boosts the team morale,” Sera added helpfully. “I mean, I'm guessing.”
“If it would be in the best interests of the group...” Bull began, his visible eye wide and at least attempting innocence, “...I suppose I can go change.”
“Yes.” Adaar turned away, staring at a tree some way in the distance. Trees were wonderful. Trees didn't leave him feeling tongue-tied and embarrassed and as though his priorities were truly, terribly messed up. “I think that would be for the best.”
He remained facing away until the Iron Bull's footsteps faded into the distance – distinctive as they were – and then and only then met Sera's gaze. “Don't say anything and I'll buy you something nice.”
Sera grinned toothily, and Adaar was quite sure he was going to have to justify some ridiculous expenditure in the near future.
It was probably worth it.