howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

"They were one-of-a-kind, custom made, and a very closely-guarded Warden secret," protests Alistair. "They knew what sort of havoc they'd unleash if every mabari in Thedas had a crossbow."

Cullen huffs.

"Fine."

(One corner of his mouth is twitching.)

Alistair, by contrast, is grinning outright.

"I'm glad my ridiculous story met with your satisfaction, Commander," he says, and pulls their hands close so he can kiss Cullen's fingertips.

"It was certainly better than Ser Bovine."

He runs his thumb along Alistair's lower lip, smile going crooked.

"In fairness," murmurs Alistair, as his eyes drift closed, "anything would be better than Ser Bovine. That's rather the point."

Cullen says, low and warm:

"I'll remember that next time you claim to want steak."

Alistair snorts out a tiny laugh.

"I don't know. Ser Bovine might be more palatable after he's been turned into steaks."

Pun wholeheartedly intended.

"Ugh," says Cullen, and shoves Alistair's shoulder.

Alistair topples onto his back, cackling the whole while.

There's so much smugness radiating from his side of the bedroll. So much.

Cullen, meanwhile, goes back to his previous position of curling up in protest, pillow over his head.

"Why," he moans.

"You suggested I come along," says Alistair, back to the innocence and light of before. "On your head be it."

"I thought you were merciful."

"I consider it merciful that I've limited my awful puns to no more than two a day. Especially after all that time around Bull."

He's just saying!

Cullen lifts the pillow and turns over just enough to shoot Alistair an evil look.

"I happen to have an excellent pun," he growls, "and now I'm going to withhold it."

:O! goes Alistair's face.

"What! Why not? It could make friends with my pun -- "

"That is not how that works."

"Of course it is! Just think, your pun could rescue mine from a life of terribleness, teach it how to be a fine, upstanding Pun Citizen..."

He tucks his hands behind his head, grinning.

"They're not autonomous beings, Alistair."

"Well, certainly not with that attitude, they aren't."

Cheerful once more.

Cullen rolls onto his stomach, pulls the pillow over his head with both hands, and makes a very loud and angry noise into the bedroll.

"Admit it."

Alistair pats Cullen's shoulder.

"You'd miss my awful jokes and stories if I wasn't here."

Without moving, muffled:

"Five minutes ago I would have agreed."

Alistair snorts, rolls onto his belly, and sets his chin against his hands.

But -- to his credit -- he doesn't say anything else.

It's nice and quiet.

Maybe he'll just stay under here. It's a little comfortable. Comfortable enough.

Alistair frees one hand and sets it on Cullen's back again.

Gently, absently, he traces small circles with his palm.