howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

His smile warms further; he catches Cullen's hand, briefly, and squeezes. "I look forward to it," he murmurs. "Go do your commander things."

"...'my commander things,'" Cullen repeats, stifling laughter. "Yes. Of course."

He hands the reins to the stablehand, and turns for the great hall.

Alistair watches him go; the fond smile never abates.

It is so good to be home.

A little part of him worries that Kieran will be indifferent to seeing him again -- that he hardly missed Alistair at all in his weeks away. (It would be reasonable. What they share in blood, they haven't shared in life: Kieran's only known him a few months, and known Alistair was his father for even less than that.) Turns out he needn't have concerned himself. Kieran brightens the instant he sees him, and within seconds, he's peppering Alistair with questions about everything from the Basin's vegetation to what the Avvar are really like.

(Kieran lowers his voice conspiratorially when he reaches their, ahem, vocabulary lesson. Morrigan studiously pretends she can't hear, but Alistair catches her mouth quirking in amusement before she breezes past them to head for the war room.)

And while Alistair does not share the details of Storvacker as they relate to Cullen, he does tell Kieran that they now have a real live bear as an agent of the Inquisition. Kieran's uncontrollable giggling in response is one of the best things he's ever heard.

The Inquisitor, having been occupied with the one large angry dragon in the Basin, has not turned her attention to where the other large angry dragon is living when it's not babysitting Corypheus. In fact, there has been no sighting of said dragon. No reports of missing livestock that can't be attributed to other beasts. Which means there's very little to indicate what Corypheus is planning next.

A cabal of Orlesian troops loyal to Gaspard has formally accused a detachment of chevaliers working for the Inquisition of war crimes without evidence, but with a true gift for gossip, and it's not the kind of thing Cullen can foist off on Josephine.

All told, by the time he leaves the war room, he's got another headache coming. With nothing else on his schedule for the day, Cullen makes a beeline for the hot springs: if he's going to spend the evening in a bad mood, he should at least do it while clean.

When Morrigan returns, Alistair takes his leave.

To his mild surprise, Cullen's office is empty when he arrives. No rest for the wicked, he supposes, and stifles a twinge of disappointment as he sets to unpacking his bags. Probably got held up by more commander things after the meeting.

...That does leave Alistair more time to grab a few things that aren't trail rations, though. Like celebratory things. Hm.

Satisfied, he heads to the kitchens, making a detour to Herald's Rest en route.

Cullen doesn't spend long in the springs: long enough to get clean, long enough to soak just a little of the travel stiffness out of his bones. He doesn't bother putting his coat back on, either, as he heads to his office.

When he can carve out a spare moment, he figures, he'll see to it.

He tosses it on the chaise (his desk being covered in paper), and calls up, "Alistair?"

"Up here," Alistair calls back.

Basket of food obtained -- and set at the foot of the bed -- he's sprawled over the whole mattress, arms and legs splayed to better luxuriate in being in an actual bed again.

And not just any bed. Their bed.

(So good to be home.)

Cullen, peeking over the top of the ladder, stops, smirking a little.

"Were you planning on making room for me, or should I go occupy the chaise?"

Alistair lifts his head, grinning. "For you? I'll always make room."

Suiting action to words, he scoots over to his side of the bed, then holds out a hand to Cullen.

Cullen, having finished stripping off most of his armor, sits to take off his greaves -- but squeezes Alistair's hand before he does.

"The springs are still there," he observes.

"Oh, good." His grin curls more toward a smirk as he adds, "I thought your hair looked a bit more -- sproingy. Did it help?"

"...you evidently think it helped my hair."

The greaves go against the wall, and Cullen gingerly eases himself onto his back.

Alistair props himself on one elbow, watching Cullen.

Softer, "Bad meeting?"

He stretches, tucking his hands behind his head.

"Not really. Just... we're back." Wry. "I've managed to secure the rest of the day, but tomorrow I'll be at my desk. All day."

Pause.

"And likely after dark."

Disappointment flickers again, quickly squashed. You knew what it would be like when you started all this, he reminds himself.

"Well," lightly, "then I suppose we'll have to make the most of what we have." He settles a hand on Cullen's hair. "Starting with, if you'd like -- I say this not to fuss, but just to enlighten you -- "

He tips his head toward the foot of the bed.

"I brought us meat pies and some wine."

(Alistair isn't the only disappointed one.)

Cullen aims a smile at the ceiling.

"Well done, Double Commander."

Alistair's smile returns. He leans over to drop a kiss on Cullen's brow.

"Want me to fetch you one?"

"Not yet?"

He reaches one hand up to brush a thumb over Alistair's cheek.

"I'm enjoying this."

Alistair closes his eyes with a soft hum of appreciation.

"We have walls again."

Back to smirking.

"Very observant of you." Cheerful. "You might also notice we've got a door or three."

"Interesting."

Alistair leans further over him, still smirking, and props his hand on the other side of Cullen's chest.

"Very interesting indeed. And have they been locked?"

"They have," Cullen informs him. "I'm nothing if not diligent, Theirin."

"Of course." Serene. "Wonderful."

And with that, Alistair swings a leg over Cullen's hips and kisses him with far more fervor than before.

Cullen would laugh if he wasn't very busy at the moment. As it is, he runs his hands up and down Alistair's back. This does come with some encouragement for Alistair to get even closer.

No need to ask him twice. Alistair presses flush against Cullen, one hand finding its way to his hair, tangling fast enough that it'll look even more sproingy when all this is over.

(Which it hopefully won't be for some hours yet. Peace and quiet and privacy. Finally. It might be the best 'welcome home' present Alistair could ask for.)

"Good to be back," he breathes against Cullen's cheek, laughing a little, once the kiss breaks. Then he picks up right where he left off.