howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

Alistair sleeps like a rock through the whole night. It's not that he sleeps badly when he's away -- certainly nothing like when he first came to Skyhold -- but it's just...easier, here, than it is most anywhere else in Thedas.

He's come to understand what people mean when they say oh, it's nice to be home in my own bed. The actual bed has little to do with it. The my part, the home part -- that's the important bit.

Easier to grasp when one finally has a home of their own.

Shortly after sunrise, Alistair stretches his legs down the length of the bed, toes curling, and lets out an expansive yawn.

Only about a third of the way awake or so, Cullen laughs, his fingers curling into Alistair's hair.

Alistair smiles, drowsily, and plants a lazy kiss on the edge of Cullen's jaw. "G'morning," he mumbles.

"Mm," Cullen agrees. He moves only enough to smooth his palm down Alistair's back.

A contented sigh.

"S'good to be home. Don't like waking up alone anymore."

A soft huff.

Could risk it, he thinks.

"Nor do I." Softer.

Alistair's smile warms. He closes his eyes.

"Glad we're never apart for very long."

Maybe he can say it when Alistair is awake to hear.

A little more tentative:

"I'm -- glad you see him. I miss you when -- it's harder to rest, but -- seeing him is more important."

Alistair nods against Cullen's shoulder.

He'd suggest that Cullen come along sometime -- but while Kieran probably wouldn't mind, Morrigan very likely would. Not out of any particular animosity toward Cullen; just a need for privacy.

Especially when the extra party is still the Commander of the Inquisition.

(For now. Unless things go poorly at the Exalted Council.)

"If the idea of traveling by eluvian didn't make me want to scream and never stop," he says, with dry amusement, "I'd find a way to do that so I could be home quicker."

"...yes," Cullen says, faintly, "please stay out of the mirrors."

He huffs a laugh, fingers curling atop Cullen's chest.

A moment later he presses another kiss to Cullen's shoulder.

Cullen slowly traces lines up and down Alistair's back.

"Sleep?" Quiet. "Or breakfast?"

"Bit more sleep, I think," he murmurs. "Or just lazing about in the quiet. Either one."

"Both," Cullen says, and closes his eyes.

Alistair chuckles. "Both it is," he says. "Cue the quiet...now."

And true to his word, he shuts up, squeezes Cullen gently, and turns his attention to the leaves overhead.

Cullen tightens his arm around Alistair for a moment.

"Budge up." Soft. "Need to stretch."

"Mm."

Obligingly, Alistair budges, rolling onto his back to free Cullen from his soft, comfortable clutches.

Cullen writhes about a little; there's the dull crackling of joints. (Lower back.)

Then, with a contented sigh, he flops on Alistair. "My turn."

Alistair yelps in mock-surprise, before immediately winding his arm around Cullen's shoulders.

"Well, hello there." Laughing a little.

"Surely you expected something of the kind." Amused, as he curls himself around Alistair.

"Yes," he says, before kissing Cullen's forehead. "I welcomed it, even."

"Yelling isn't very welcoming," Cullen informs him, and closes his eyes. "So you know."

With great dignity: "I was startled, is all."

Beat.

"...Despite both expecting and welcoming it, yes, I know, it's early and I've no sense of logic anyway."

"How dare you, ser," he mumbles, pleased.

"I know. It's awful. I don't know how I live with myself. Here, let me hang my head in shame."

Alistair does so.

Which, of course, means he ends up bumping foreheads with Cullen.