Let it be known that I still have zero shame when it comes to little fluffs like this.

The heroes of Thedas have to get sick sometimes, right? I don't buy that they all have godlike immune systems. Let's be real here.

(My headcanon runs with a female Dalish Inquisitor and her brother coming along as a companion, because I wanted to romance Dorian and still keep one Inquisitor because it makes sense. And also because, well, Dorian. Has anyone else done his romance? I haven't finished yet it but I'm loving it.)

Ailments

"Finn," Nanyehi said. "Finn. Finirial Lavellan."

"What?" Finn said, vigorously rubbing his arms with his hands and shivering as he did so.

"Put on a warmer coat next time," Nanyehi said.

Finn sighed. Yes, perhaps wearing warmer armor while exploring the wet, dank, gloomy marsh that was the Fallow Mire would have been a splendid idea, but the Inquisitor's retroactive advice didn't help matters. He scrubbed his rain-slick white hair off his forehead and looked away from his sister, who happened to look extremely warm and cozy in her own armor. Finn figured Cullen wouldn't even let Nanyehi leave Skyhold without fifty pounds of protective gear.

This weather, Finn mused, could just serve as a way to toughen himself up. Right? It sounded fine in his head. He squinted to see through the darkness, looking at the tiny pale green pinpricks of veilfire on the path ahead of them. When he lifted his foot, mud squelched beneath it.

"I'm sure the last thing out here that will end up killing Frosty is the rain," Varric said. "There's already so many more things that would be happy to do us in."

"I'll do him in myself, if he keeps clipping me with ice spells," Blackwall said. The older warden's black hair had been plastered to his head by rainfall, but he didn't look to be suffering from the weather.

"I'm sure you are all helping immensely," Dorian said. Finn watched him lift a tanned hand and attempt to summon a fireball, only for it to sputter pathetically and die in the downpour. "This weather is delightful."

Finn sneezed.

Dorian and Nanyehi both sent nearly identical looks Finn's way, but Finn just shook his head, trying to brush off their concern.

"I'm fine, really," he said. "No use worrying. Let's dip a toe in the water and stir up some corpses."

"Let's not," Nanyehi said. "I'm exhausted from that last wave." Blackwall glanced up from trying to wipe water off his sword.

"Look, Frosty, if you need a coat, mine might fit," Varric offered. "Probably too big in the shoulders, but you do what you gotta do."

"And then what will you wear?" Nanyehi asked him, gathering her deep red hair in both hands and wringing it out.

"All that chest hair must keep him nice and toasty," Dorian said.

"No, no, I'll manage," Finn insisted. Admittedly, he'd put too much stock in his training as an ice mage and hadn't considered that weather would affect him like this when his own inner frost didn't, but it was much too late for regrets. "Let's go blow some rotting corpses to smithereens," he said, soldiering on to the front of the group and muffling a cough with his sopping wet sleeve. He really was itching to clear out some more of the Mire's corpses. He thrust his staff in the air. "Dead people, ho!"

"I do adore his eternal optimism," Dorian remarked.

"It's going to get him killed, I'll bet," Nanyehi said.

"I'm sorry, Finnie," Nanyehi said, feeling Finn's forehead with the back of her right hand; not the hand with the pulsing, bright green mark, thankfully. Her brows pulled together in concern. "You look miserable."

Finn sat back in his bed in Skyhold's keep, propped up by what felt like no less than a thousand pillows and holding a handkerchief to his running nose.

"I swear, Nani," he said, chuckling in spite of it all, "if you keep calling me that, our friends are going to pick up on it. And then I'm going to have to convince Iron Bull to kill you, because I'm too tired to do it myself." He thought for a moment. "Although I suppose he'd have to go through Cullen."

"Easy," Nanyehi said. "All he'd have to do is talk about sex until Cullen sprints out of the room like his arse is on fire. Bam. Clear shot. Dead Inquisitor."

"Killed by Cullen's awkwardness," Finn said, laughing. Then he sneezed into the handkerchief.

"Poor baby," Nanyehi said, stroking Finn's hair. "I wish elfroot juice did more than just ease physical pain…and that we had a healer in Skyhold. It's astounding, how none of the mages here know healing arts." She stood. "I should tell Dorian you aren't feeling well."

"Creators, no," Finn objected. "We both know he isn't the best at…well…caretaking." Besides, Finn had to keep up some façade of masculinity around Dorian, right? Right.

"He'll find out somehow," she said, shrugging. "Even if it's not me. It's only been a day since we returned from the Fallow Mire, and people are going to start wondering why you aren't showing up for Wicked Grace."

"Tell them I fell into the privy," Finn tried.

"Nah. They'd just organize a rescue mission. And I really don't want to be involved in a full-scale privy exploration." She gave his shoulder one last pat, her turquoise eyes soft. "I'll let you rest."

And with that, she left the room, leaving Finn to lean his head back against the headboard and try to nap. It didn't help that his nose felt stuffed up and swollen, and that every part of him ached – really, what was with Skyhold's lack of healers?

No matter. This may as well be one of the hardships that would mold him into something more manly than he looked. Wiry elves with big eyes needed a lot of help in that regard.

Several minutes later, just when Finn was about to doze off, footsteps startled him awake. He blinked, disoriented, and saw Dorian leaning in the doorway, watching him.

Shite. He knew.

"Did you really stuff that handkerchief up your nose?" Dorian asked, looking amused by the whole thing. "My, my. Sometimes I wonder, Finn."

Finn hadn't even realized he'd done that, but when he reached up to his face, he surmised he must have left the handkerchief like that so he didn't tire his arm out holding it. "I like the hands-free approach," he said, trying for a weak laugh and ending up with a rattling cough.

"I should hope that's the only thing you don't want to use your hands on." Dorian stepped closer, the floorboards creaking under his boots.

Finn let his eyes trail along Dorian's smooth dark skin, finally fixing on the Tevinter's grayish eyes. "Satisfied?" Finn asked. "I suppose I've learned my lesson about proper attire for exploring the Fallow Mire."

"No, I wouldn't say satisfied is the correct word. I certainly don't like seeing you like this." Having reached the side of the bed, Dorian leaned down and pressed a kiss to Finn's forehead. "Good grief. You're freezing."

Finn just shrugged.

"I believe I have just the fix for that," Dorian said. He lifted the covers and gracefully slid under them to sit next to Finn; Finn not-so-gracefully sputtered and glanced over at Dorian, who unabashedly wrapped an arm tight around Finn's slender shoulders and dragged him close. "There. Better?"

"Perhaps," Finn said, all too aware of the heat rushing into his cheeks. Dorian really was quite warm…not to mention how nice it felt to sit so close to him like this, tucked into his arm with their sides pressed together.

"Perhaps? Silly." Dorian squeezed him, laughing at Finn's startled reaction. "We really do need to get you warmer armor. Surely Cullen could inform you where he gets all of his nice warm feathers from."

"Who needs nice warm feathers when there's a nice warm Dorian?" Finn tried.

"I like the sentiment," Dorian said. "Oh, and Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"Do take that handkerchief out of your nose."

Now that was the Dorian that Finn knew well. He smiled slightly to himself, doing as requested and leaning his head back against Dorian's muscled chest. Dorian's warm hand skimmed through Finn's hair, nearly lulling him to sleep. Tomorrow he'd probably be up and moving again, helping his sister save Thedas and all that…but today, this would be good enough.