howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

Cullen breathes out.

Smaller: "I'm sorry, Alistair."

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."

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?"

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

He kisses the top of Cullen's head.

"As often as you need."

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."

"Ah."

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

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

He nods against Alistair's neck.

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

"Yes."

Alistair wraps his arm more snugly around Cullen.

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

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."

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!'"

"Ugh."

He lets his forehead fall on Alistair's shoulder.

Alistair pats him, snickering faintly.

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

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

"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.

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

"I think," he says, "that sounds like an excellent idea."

Alistair finally draws back, but only so he can take Cullen's hand.

Cullen stays close, holding the blanket together with his free hand.

"I think that was both my best and worst idea," he muses.

He chuckles. "Once we've gotten you warmed up, we can move it firmly into 'best,' I think."

Whatever Cullen needs to do to clear his head -- even if it's jumping in a freezing-cold lake for five minutes -- Alistair approves.

"I'm plenty warm," he protests. "Unless you're objecting on your own behalf, which is reasonable."

"Hugging you isn't quite like hugging an icicle any longer," Alistair allows.

He tugs Cullen into the tent.

"Like hugging one of Skyhold's walls, perhaps."

Cullen immediately sheds the blanket and flops on his bedroll. "So I'm stern and uninviting, then."

Alistair laughs.

"Strong, quiet, and good at protecting people, I'd say," he corrects as he flops alongside.

"Cold and unfeeling?" He stretches.

"Until it gets some sunlight."

He drapes an arm across Cullen's chest.

"And then it's lazy and unmoving." He ruffles Alistair's hair.