(no subject)

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen is fine in the field. He can set up a tent, build a fire, find water safe to drink, make something edible. But he hasn't traveled enough to get the knack of what's wise to bring.

These days it makes little difference, given his status: he helps to set up camp, but there are runners and adjutants to find and fetch things. And there are few enough of them, this time -- not the massed force of the Inquisition, but a patrol's worth of soldiers and scouts and accompanying support -- that in the evenings, Cullen finds himself... restless.

It's akin to the reason he doesn't frequent the Herald's Rest, but there's no office to hide in, and no paperwork to justify staying in the tent.

At least tomorrow he and Alistair will peel off to where Honnleath used to be, to spend the night and rejoin the rest again late the following day.

(This may also contribute to his fidgeting.)

Comments

[bringspeopletogether]

"Yes."

His mouth finds Cullen's again, fastens on in a hungry kiss. When it finally breaks: "Everything. It's yours."

He gets a hand between their hips, with effort, to see about getting rid of those pesky trousers Cullen's still wearing.

[howtoactfereldan]

"Alistair," he manages again -- but it's with a soft laugh. "See to yourself first."

He tugs at Alistair's shirt with intent. "Unfair."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair pauses, then starts to laugh, too, quiet and sheepish.

"How," he says as he helps Cullen yank his shirt free, "did I end up wearing more clothes than you after trying to warm you up?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Because you're a cruel tyrant," Cullen says, sorrowful. "A cruel tyrant who doesn't care that this -- "

He drags the pad of his index finger down Alistair's chest.

" -- is my favorite view."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair shivers.

"Your favorite? Out of everything? Really?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"I have many favorites." Serene.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair plants his hands on either side of Cullen's shoulders, smiling down at him.

"Well," he murmurs, "I'm relieved I made the list, then."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen's smile is sudden, crooked.

Softer: "You are the list."

[bringspeopletogether]

Despite months together, despite everything Cullen told him earlier today, Alistair's heart flutters like wingbeats against his chest. Maybe this will stop feeling so remarkable some day. Maker, he hopes it doesn't.

He leans down. The kiss is gentler this time, more tender.

(No less thorough, though.)

[howtoactfereldan]

His hands slide up to frame Alistair's face with the care usually reserved for something fragile, precious, priceless beyond any measure.

When it breaks, he leans his forehead against Alistair's and breathes, softly, "Maker."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's smile has turned smaller, sweeter; he hasn't opened his eyes.

"I can't begin to say how glad I am that you found me," he whispers.

[howtoactfereldan]

You found me first, he thinks; his smile flickers for a moment.

Buy some time. Cullen makes a soft, interrogative noise.

[bringspeopletogether]

"You've always helped me remember who was I was before Adamant."

He opens his eyes. Gently, he brushes aside a bit of hair that's fallen over Cullen's forehead.

"You've never doubted I could get better. I look at you, and I know I'm safe."

[howtoactfereldan]

Nearly everything he could say would ruin this. Or put a damper on it. And that's the last thing Cullen wants to do.

So: something that has the benefit of being the truth.

"I'm glad," he murmurs. It's his turn to close his eyes. Easier to hide that way.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair pushed too far earlier. He won't make the same mistake twice in less than an hour.

So instead of saying anything else, he touches his lips to Cullen's forehead, and whispers, "I love you."

Believe that much, if nothing else.

[howtoactfereldan]

That, he thinks, also has the benefit of being the truth.

So he says it in return, and then: "Welcome home."

[bringspeopletogether]

A fresh lump rises in Alistair's throat.

Definitely better to act than speak, now: he kisses Cullen again, as if the overflow of emotion in his chest could pour into him, as if Cullen could miraculously know, by one action, everything Alistair has ever felt for him.

(As if he could, at last, see himself the way Alistair sees him.)

[howtoactfereldan]

No miracle occurs. But Cullen does suspect that Alistair is -- overwhelmed. He wraps his arms around Alistair in as steady an embrace as he can muster.

It's all right, he thinks. It's fine.

[bringspeopletogether]

When it breaks, he rests his forehead against Cullen's again. Takes a moment to right himself, emotionally speaking.






"It would absolutely ruin the moment if I tried to take off your trousers again, wouldn't it."

He's struggling not to laugh.

[howtoactfereldan]

"An astute observation, Theirin."

Cullen is stifling laughter as he rubs Alistair's back.

[bringspeopletogether]

"I thought so." He gives into the laughter, soft as it may be. "See? I can be romantic sometimes."

Swords and Shields taught him well. Ahem.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I'd go so far as to say 'not infrequently.'"

[bringspeopletogether]

"It's the rose that did it, wasn't it."

Solemn.

[howtoactfereldan]

"Of course not," Cullen says. He makes sure to sound very outraged. "It was the sock full of worms. Obviously."

[bringspeopletogether]

"If only I'd thought to put them in your hair like a five-year-old." Alistair tsks at himself. "That truly would've sealed the deal."