howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

He nods, curling closer.

"I can't -- describe how... happy you make me. Even those words are -- " A huff of breath. "Completely inadequate. I wish I could."

Fresh warmth stirs in Alistair's chest. "I'm glad I do."

It doesn't always feel like it. Which -- that's Alistair's own thing to deal with. Sometimes he needs the reminder, like the earliest reassurances that Cullen wouldn't leave: I'm happy when I'm with you.

"That's all I want."

"You don't -- it's more than that." His fist tightens in Alistair's shirt. "I think about my life before, and it's -- joyless."

His throat is tight. But it's important to say. More important than anything. "You've made me whole."

Oh.

"I -- " The heat migrates higher, stinging Alistair's eyes. Before he can swallow back the question -- it sounds a little thin, owing to the sudden lump in his own throat: "How?"

At least he stops himself before saying the other part. I haven't done anything at all.

"I don't remember the last time I laughed, before you. Or took -- time to sleep in, or thought it was all right not to work half the night, or -- that, that -- "

Now Cullen's voice is thin. "I wasn't -- I could ever be more to someone than a burden. Or an obstacle."

Alistair has no hope whatsoever of responding to that.

Overwhelmed, he wraps both arms around Cullen and buries his face in his hair.

Cullen clings tighter.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I just -- I wanted you to know. I know I'm not -- I'm very difficult, and I don't say what I ought to, or what I want to, and you deserve so much better."

"Don't apologize." Low; a bit ragged. "You don't ever have to say you're sorry for that."

He kisses the top of Cullen's head.

"Remember what I've said? It isn't about what I deserve. It's about what I want. And I want you. Difficulties and -- not knowing the right words, and all. Always."

Damned if I know why.

He says, a little choked:

"You have me, then."

"Good," whispers Alistair. His next breath trembles, faintly. "I love you."

Cullen nods. No louder: "I know. And I -- " He has to stop. Swallow. "I'm yours."

He tucks his face back against Cullen's hair. Tightens his embrace, a little.

"As long as you'll have me," he says, muffled, "I'm yours as well."

"Always." He clings more tightly, as if Alistair will disappear if Cullen isn't careful.

A small, waterlogged laugh. "Glad that's settled then."

He runs his hand along Cullen's back, slow and comforting.

Cullen nods again. He hasn't yet relaxed; he'll need a moment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't -- I never want to upset you."

"You haven't." Soft. "It's good crying, I promise."

Beat.

"...Not that I'm crying." He makes a show of clearing his throat. "Far too manly for that."

Cullen huffs. "I'm not."

That garners another tiny snort of laughter, wry and sympathetic. Alistair keeps moving his hand over Cullen's back.

"Thank you for telling me all that," he murmurs, eventually.

"When I can come up with the words -- I have to take advantage." Still tense. "You need to know how much I love you. And why."

Alistair nods.

"I know it isn't easy for you." Still quiet. "And I appreciate it, very much."

That -- might have been a sniffle.

"If things had been different -- and, and they were still here... I'd want to show you everything. So you know you belong."

And just when Alistair's eyes had stopped stinging.

He shuts them, quickly, as his hand curls in the back of Cullen's shirt.

Cullen's still got Alistair's in his fist, so. They have that in common.

He takes in and releases a shaky breath.

"I'm still glad to see this much."

A bare whisper. Any louder, and he's not sure the words will get out through the tightness in his throat.

"Just to -- know a little of what it was like for you. Before we met."

"Admit it, though," Cullen manages. "You'd have been hunting me down along with Branson. Noise and all."