Fuck, it was so hot though.
He blinked slowly at me, before his gaze drifted to the counter. “You know how to bake?” he asked in a gruff voice.
“Simple things, at least. Do me a favor and punch the bread dough over there.” I pointed to a bowl of dough on the side table in the corner. “I’m making twisted sweet bread later. It’ll make an easy snack to have on the road… air… whatever.”
“You… need me to punch dough?”
“Yeah, you gotta let the air out or it won’t rise right. Haven’t you ever made bread before?”
When he shook his head, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. With those little helper kobolds always at his beck and call, I’d be surprised if that rich boy ever even made his own sandwich. “Welp, first time for everything. After we eat, you can help me roll it out and braid it.”
He approached the overinflated bowl of dough with apprehension, then rolled up his sleeves. “How hard?” he asked, glancing back.
I shrugged. “Just give it a good wallop.”
“Alright,” he said before slamming his fist in its center. The wooden table snapped like a twig, sending loose bits of flour, dough, and splinters all over the floor.
“Fuck,” he gritted out. Dante fumbled with the shattered corpse of the bowl, trying to salvage whatever he could out of the obliterated mess.
Probably should have seen that one coming.
I laughed, looking at the dragon frantically trying to pick up the chaos. “Sweetheart, just go sit down.”
“Hold on, I can—”
Crash.
“Dante. Back away from the dough.”
Slowly, he raised his hands and backed away a few steps.
“Further,” I called.
He sighed, then dragged himself over to the couch and slumped into the soft cushions.
I took a couple of cinnamon rolls out of the pan and joined him, leaning against his side. He threw an arm around my shoulder, dragging me against his chest. “Here, try one. You woke up just in time.”
He took the treat without a word, his eyes closing as he took the first bite. I leaned further against him, getting comfortable. His hand slid to my side and I laced my fingers with his and traced small circles with my thumb. It felt so nice to lie here like this. Kirkwall’s chilly air was chased away by the warmth of his body holding me. The delightful aroma of coffee, baked treats, and Dante made me feel so at peace it was almost unnerving.
Dammit, I’m crushing so hard.
Tap tap.
Fat droplets of rain pattered against the window. Odd. It was sunny just a moment ago. “Feeling alright?” I asked.
“Please excuse me.” He shifted me upright, then made his way into the spare room and shut the door. The sound of howling wind filled the air, then promptly cut off.
I opened the door to see what had happened, only to find the room completely empty. “… Was it something I said?”
Dante
“Come on, pick up, dammit.” I paced in front of the mirror, waiting for the magic to stop swirling.
She called me sweetheart.
Butterflies– fucking butterflies of all things– burst into song and started dancing in my stomach. The cinnamon roll in my hands was still warm. I took another bite, savoring its impossibly sweet taste. Nothing had ever tasted so right in all my long years.
Finally, the image cleared revealing the captain’s quarters of theBansheeand its puzzled-looking captain. “Dante?” Usha called, brushing a dark red lock behind her ear. “How are you in my mirror?”
