(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

[howtoactfereldan]

Rueful:

"Until I'm reasonably certain I won't take whatever this is out on you."

He gestures up at his hair. "It'll dry awfully, and then you can make fun of me."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair tries for a smile. It's wan, at best, and doesn't stick around very long.

"Well, since nothing's trying to eat you -- " He holds up the dagger. "I'll go put this away."

He doesn't wait for a reply before turning back toward their tent.

[howtoactfereldan]

Right.

He tried to tell Alistair, once, that the reason he leaves when he gets upset is so he doesn't lose control and hurt someone who doesn't deserve it.

An example, he thinks, sourly.

Cullen hauls himself out of the water -- no eels or leeches, thank you very much -- and uses his shirt to dry himself off. Trousers on only, he wraps his arms around himself. Shivers. Drips, some.

(It is better, though. His mind's clearer.)

[bringspeopletogether]

Inside the tent, it's just possible to make out Alistair rummaging through their packs, rather more than one might expect for something as simple as putting a dagger away.

When he re-emerges, he has a blanket slung over one arm: the thickest one they brought along.

Wordlessly -- and with a half-smile that's a bit more solid than before -- he unfolds it, holds it wide, and tips his head inquiringly.

[howtoactfereldan]

"Thank you." Quietly, as it settles around his shoulders.

He doesn't say I don't deserve this, because it'll just start it all over again.

(But he's thinking it.)

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair hesitates a moment, unsure if he wants to leave his arm around Cullen as well. In the end, he does.

He doesn't do more than that though. No attempts to guide Cullen back to the tent; no drawing him closer, or pushing him further away.

No words.

[howtoactfereldan]

Slowly, carefully, attuned for any sign of resistance, Cullen turns to bring his arms around Alistair, blanket and all. Like a damp, surly bat.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair exhales. He shuts his eyes, and offers no resistance as Cullen draws him in.

(Damp, surly, and cold. At least Alistair's body heat can help with the last bit.)

His fist tightens in the blanket.

[howtoactfereldan]

Murmured into Alistair's neck:

"I mentioned I was difficult?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair nods. Quiet, "It might have come up."

There's very little emotion in his voice.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen breathes out.

Smaller: "I'm sorry, Alistair."

[bringspeopletogether]

And at that, Alistair's shoulders slump. He presses his face to Cullen's hair; relaxing a little, finally.

"Thank you," he whispers. "I appreciate it."

[howtoactfereldan]

He tightens his hold on Alistair, wincing a little.






"I'll try." Uneven. "To -- remember it's all right to ask for things. Can you remind me?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Yes." Still soft, but without hesitation. "Of course."

He kisses the top of Cullen's head.

"As often as you need."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen lets out a breath.

Then, smaller:

"I don't know why, but today -- I don't like thinking about it as -- revenge. It -- bothers me."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Ah."

It's more exhalation than word, full of dawning comprehension.

"I'm sorry, then. I didn't mean to -- set something off."

[howtoactfereldan]

He nods against Alistair's neck.

"Freely given," he murmurs, "or not at all."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Yes."

Alistair wraps his arm more snugly around Cullen.

"I won't joke about that sort of thing anymore."

[howtoactfereldan]

Another nod.

Then, light, lingering, he kisses Alistair's neck, and says softly right in his ear:

"I fear what joke you'll replace it with."

[bringspeopletogether]

He hums, low in his throat.

His mouth twitches in a badly suppressed smile.

"Two cookies are in an oven. One turns to the other and says, 'Hot in here, isn't it?' The second one says, 'Maker's breath! A talking cookie!'"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Ugh."

He lets his forehead fall on Alistair's shoulder.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair pats him, snickering faintly.

"I save ones like that to make all my other jokes look good in comparison."

[howtoactfereldan]

"You mean the one where you suggested that we start entangled and then end up swimming? Because Alistair, we're well situated for that -- "

[bringspeopletogether]

"No." Laughing outright now. "I take that one back. You still feel cold."

More 'light breeze' cold than 'ice cube' cold by now, but still.

[howtoactfereldan]

"A smart man would retreat inside his tent, then. What do you think?"