howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

Says the bear:

"Look out the window."

"You've got a better view, what with the snow landing on you and all."

He rubs his eyes, squinting down at the topmost letter. The last half a sentence has smudged abominably; frowning, Alistair scrubs at his cheek, and the scowl deepens when his fingers come away black. "Damn it. -- Not you," he thinks to direct upward after half a beat.

"This bed isn't under the hole in the roof and you know it."

Cullen huffs, and turns over on his back. "Have you destroyed my office?"

"No," sighs Alistair, "just one of the letters."

Maker, he hopes it smudged badly enough that he won't be walking around with I REGRET TO INFORM YOU printed backward on his cheek.

"Can I come up and borrow your basin?"

"Long as you bring it back."

-- wait. Where did the furs come from?

"Of course."

Sadly, that means shedding the blanket: it's more trouble than Alistair would prefer to scale a ladder while wrapped in a blanket. Oh well. He'll persevere.

Moments later, Alistair pops into view. (The large smudge across his right cheek might form into the occasional letter here and there, but only if you squint.) He makes a beeline for the basin -- there's a quiet clink as he taps the ice on its surface to pieces -- and, after locating a cloth, he starts to scrub away the ink.

Cullen peers at him.

And says, accusingly:

"You slept at my desk."

"Well, it's not like you were using it," says Alistair, blandly, as he keeps scrubbing his cheek.

"True. And you've also lost all right to complain whenever I do it."

Satisfied.

"Forever."

Alistair groans, slinging the cloth back into the basin to wring out the ink.

"That is the only time I've ever done it," he points out, "while I've damn well lost track of how many times you've done it."

"Meaning you have no proof."

Alistair scowls, and attacks the ink smudge with renewed vigor without deigning to reply.

Cullen watches this process for a moment.

"You're all right."

It might be a question. It might not.

A rough shrug. "Yes. I'm fine."

Another dunk of the cloth. The water's turning an unappealing grey color; he wrings out the cloth and gets back to work anyway.

"How are you feeling?"

Cullen rolls his eyes.

You can't play a player, Alistair.

"Warm," he says. "And better than you, I'd wager."

"Because you slept in a bed rather than at your desk, I'm sure."

The line of his back remains taut, but Alistair throws a glance over his shoulder, eyebrows quirked, before returning to the task at hand.

"Now I understand why you're so grumpy all the time."

"Do you have any idea," Cullen announces, "how difficult it's been to not act like a bear since the moment I left the war room."

Alistair pauses midway through wringing out the cloth, then resumes, slower.

"I've some idea, yes." Quiet. "You've done admirably there."

Cullen snorts.

"Come lie down. Or go to bed somewhere else. You'll feel better."

I'm fine, he wants to say again, but -- that's not going to get him anywhere, is it. And he's got a crick in his neck from sleeping at Cullen's desk, anyway. Maybe somewhere soft, with an actual pillow instead of a stack of paper, really will help.

He sighs, nearly inaudible, and peers into the glass next to the basin to judge how the process is coming along. Answer: well enough for now, though it looks a bit like Bull decked him in the jaw.

Alistair tosses the cloth aside and moves to join Cullen.

Two furs is a little excessive; Cullen tugs one in Alistair's direction.

...and rescues the report, which crinkles a little.

"You're all right," he says again, softer. He's occupied trying to securely shove the report under his pillow.

Alistair nods. He busies himself with the fur for a moment, ensuring he's properly cocooned.

"So are you, I'd hope?"

He lets out a soft sigh.

Wry: "I'll be going down to the springs later. But yes."

Half a smile that quickly turns rueful: "I'm fine."

"All right."

He'll...do his best to take Cullen at his word. For now, at least.

"Hang on, there are springs? That anyone can reach?"

How has he not found them in all his pacing around Skyhold? THIS IS GREAT.

Cullen laughs a little.

"We've done our best to keep them quiet. But yes. Below the cells. Good for soaking."