howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

That -- wasn't at all what Alistair expected.

His brow knits, the tiny smirk wiped from his face. "You didn't." (He sounds faintly bewildered.) "It was lovely. If you don't want to -- "

Gently, he brushes his fingertips over the hair near Cullen's temple.

Softer, "If you want to leave it at that, and just sleep, I'm fine with it."

"I want what you want." No louder.

(They wouldn't have come here, if not for Alistair.)

His mouth quirks, despite himself.

"And what I want," he murmurs, "is for you to be comfortable. All right?"

Cullen huffs a breath. Scrubs at his face.

Trying for dry: "You've a long wait ahead of you, then."

"I'm a patient man." The quirk starts to approach a true smile. "I'm willing to wait as long as necessary. Years, even."

"You can't tell me you're a patient man when you ate half tomorrow's rations before the fish were done."

It's weak. He's trying.

Alistair can respect the effort. He chuckles, low and fond.

"I was hungry," he insists. "Warden appetite. Can't be helped."

"And I suppose I'm obliged to generously allow that half to be my half?"

"Of course not." He cards his fingers through Cullen's hair again; cradles his cheek. "I accept the consequences of eating nearly everything in sight. If need be I'll catch another fish or two tomorrow."

He can feel himself being coaxed (whether or not it was Alistair's intent). A crooked smile; he leans his head into Alistair's hand.

"You certainly caught enough bait for it."

"Can't let it go to waste." His smile grows at the sight of Cullen's. "Though I suppose if I dumped it all back in the forest, those worms would have quite a tale to tell. Daring feats, enormous monsters, narrow escapes from the jaws of death..."

"It does seem only fair that they get something for their trouble," he agrees.

"I'd hope that if something a thousand times my size plucked me off the ground, stuffed me in a sock, and left me there for hours, I'd get a little more out of it than a good story." He's started to laugh, a little. "But in lieu of giving all the bait a good meal, it'll have to do."

"Consider the alternative."

He turns his head enough to kiss Alistair's palm.

"Getting out of it at all is a good day. A story is a fine bonus."

"True." Thoughtful. "Better that than being eaten by another monster a thousand times my size. Only that one swims."

"An eel," he says sagely.

Alistair opens his mouth. Visibly reconsiders what he's about to say.

"I promised I wouldn't invite more mayhem," he says, dutiful, "so I won't say anything more about man-eating eels in the lake."

Cullen laughs quietly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Warm.

He touches his lips to Cullen's forehead.

"Want to give sleeping a go?"

"It's still light out."

Cullen hasn't yet fastened the tent flap; he looks out at the water.

"I suppose we could lie down."

And then --

(Sometimes talking about revenge rubs him poorly.)

"All right."

Suiting action to words, Alistair stretches along his bedroll, catching one of Cullen's hands as he does.

(Still light out, but -- Alistair didn't sleep while they were out in the sun earlier. Hasn't slept well for days. He can feel himself falling back into that old pattern, where he'd grab whatever hours he could here and there.

And if Cullen wants to take it easy tonight -- well. No time like the present.)

Cullen eases himself down with a sigh.

The tent flap is still loose, which suits him fine. Until the last bit of light's gone, he doesn't want to close it.

As soon as Cullen's horizontal, Alistair wraps an arm around him and draws him close.

"Thank you for such a good day," he murmurs.

A quiet laugh. "I didn't have much to do with it. We were lucky, is all."

"It wouldn't have been nearly as nice without you here," he points out, amused. "Just me tromping along the shoreline all alone. Pleasant, certainly, but better when shared."