howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

Rather than backpedal immediately, Cullen gives Alistair a grin that could vaguely be described as impish.

"When's the last time you got to be lazy in the sun?"

"...Probably twenty-odd years ago."

He starts to smile: tentative, but pleased.

"Then it's past time to do it again, don't you think?"

"I suppose it might be."

He settles next to Cullen.

"Very well. I accept your generous and very lazy offer."

"Excellent," he proclaims, and promptly flops on his back, stretching. "No telling when we'll get another chance."

Alistair chuckles. "I'd suggest kidnapping you for a day," he says, and works an arm around Cullen's shoulders. "Take you away to a distant spot in the valley. But I've a feeling that'd only incite panic, no matter how kind a note I left."

Cullen slides over -- just enough to use Alistair's shoulder for a pillow.

"Consternation, perhaps." Thoughtful. "We could enlist a few helpers to keep that to a minimum. Though that might defeat the point of the kidnapping."

"How so?"

He draws his thumb back and forth along the knob of Cullen's shoulder.

"If we enlist the right helpers, I'm sure it could go quite smoothly." Beat. "Though I think helpers of that caliber end up being called accomplices eventually."

"They might prefer that, honestly." Dry. "If one or two were aware of your plan and could vouch for your intentions, that might forestall some of the consternation."

"I'll recruit Lel and Bull, then." He considers his options. "Maybe Cassandra as well."

Cullen groans. "No. Please. She'll chastise me for not working."

And then, horrified: "Or she'll think it's Swords and Shields."

Alistair snorts, not unkindly. "What makes you think she isn't secretly thinking that already?"

"Ugh."

Cullen rolls over on his side, hiding his face. "No."

Alistair pats his shoulder.

"Sorry." To his credit, he does sound genuinely apologetic. "I'm sure she's not. She does have some sense of propriety."

Unlike certain other people in Skyhold, cough, cough, half the damn Chargers.

"As long as she's not being an accomplice," Cullen mutters. "She wouldn't be rational."

He settles back against Alistair, turning inward. After a moment he reaches up, running the pad of his thumb lightly along Alistair's lower lip.

Alistair's eyes slip closed; his breath catches for an instant.

"Hard to think," he murmurs, "that if I'd been asked to go without you for six weeks, half a year ago, I would've been fine with it."

A quiet laugh. "Still thought I was insufferable, I imagine."

"Not insufferable," he says, still soft. His mouth quirks up. "I was glad to see you when I arrived at Skyhold. More glad to see you well. But I suppose -- after ten years, what would've been another month and a half?"

"...given we're at war, potentially a great deal."

He traces small circles on Alistair's chest. "But I take your meaning. Even if I'm wondering why you're dwelling on it."

"I'm not sure." A small exhalation; the smile stays put, rueful as it might be. "Picturing myself back at Skyhold, for some reason. Alone in our bed. All the embarrassingly forlorn letters I'd be sending off with the ravens. How miserable I'd be, and...how lucky I am, that I'm not."

His smile warms.

"You came back," Cullen says, very softly.

"Yes."

Not much louder, as -- more unconscious than not -- his arm tightens around Cullen.

"The only reason I'll ever leave you behind is your own safety."

Still quiet. He curls his fingers around a fold of Alistair's shirt, as though hanging on tight.

"If I have any say in it. That's the only reason."

"I know," whispers Alistair.

He touches his lips to Cullen's forehead; lingers there a moment.

"Are you sure?"

Because Alistair was still planning as though Cullen would leave --