howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

Alistair snickers. "Would you rather I say 'adequate man?' 'Serviceable man?'"

He patterns light circles over Cullen's abdomen.

He's not quite ticklish, but the movement's enough to induce some squirming. "Unremarkable man."

"Hm. I'll say that for the sake of your vanity," says Alistair, wrapping his arms securely around Cullen, "but that's all. You're very remarkable to me."

Cullen rests his hands on Alistair's, and closes his eyes.

"Get out more." Small smile.

"To Stone-Bear Hold, for instance?"

Smiling, he presses a kiss to Cullen's shoulder.

"And South Reach?"

A small, content sigh.

"You really do enjoy missing shirts, if Stone-Bear Hold is your first thought. The more, the better, is that it?"

"It's on my mind because you literally just mentioned it for our honeymoon," he protests, laughing, and gives Cullen a squeeze. "You're the only one I enjoy seeing shirtless, husband."

"Come now," he murmurs. "Other fine specimens exist. It's all right to admit that."

Alistair hums low in his throat.

"Perhaps," he acquiesces. "But it's like admiring a nice painting. Not the same as admiring you."

It's unfortunate that Cullen is en deshabille; it's easy to see how his blush extends down his neck and shoulders.

"Ridiculous," he huffs, as though that will do any good.

All that does is draw a soft, rumbling chuckle out of Alistair.

"How so?" he asks.

Ugh. That sound.

(Cullen melts a little more, tension in his shoulders giving way.)

"A form is a form is a form."

"Cullen." Warmly amused. "That's like saying my nug sketches are identical to a landscape hanging in the royal palace."

He drops another light kiss where the curve of Cullen's neck meets his shoulder.

His head falls to the side, eyes closing.

"I know which one I'd rather look at," he murmurs.

"And so do I," he whispers against Cullen's neck. "Other fine specimens, maybe, but you're my favorite."

Cullen tries for grudging but doesn't quite make it.

"Suppose that can be allowed."

"Good," says Alistair with another soft laugh. He winds his arms a little more securely around Cullen's waist. "I'm quite relieved."

"Can we...?"

He lifts a hand, only long enough to motion to the bedroom.

"Not for anything -- fun. Just..."

"Of course."

One more squeeze, and he lets go of Cullen long enough to take his hand. Once they're in their bedroom, Alistair gets to work unfastening the clasps of his own jacket.

Just because nothing fun's about to happen doesn't mean Alistair can't get comfortable.

For his part, Cullen tugs his linen shirt back on: nothing fun, but Cullen doesn't want to give whatever messenger comes for him the idea that fun is happening while the Qun is doing -- something.

Something bad.

He doesn't bother pulling down the covers -- just gets out of his boots, quick as he can, and curls on his side.

Alistair takes a seat to pull off his boots, then swings alongside Cullen, draping an arm around his waist.

"I could tell absurd stories," he murmurs after a moment, "or I could stay quiet. Your pick, love."

"For once in my life."

It takes him a moment to reply; he's settling back against Alistair, just so.

"I wonder if I'm not taking this seriously enough. The Qunari finally invading the south. And all I want is to stay in here, with you."

"Taking time to rest doesn't mean you're not taking this seriously," he murmurs against Cullen's shoulder. "If this really is invasion-levels of bad, we'll all need strength for later, and we'll need to collect it where we can. Like now."

"Mm."

"I suppose... I just can't fathom it. I try to get my mind around it, and -- nothing. All the tactical reading I've done? None of it's been about the Qunari's wars with the Imperium. I don't know anything. And because of Kirkwall -- the only people possibly better informed than I am are Dorian and Bull. And I'm supposed to manage a military response?"

(He's tensing up again.)

"I can't walk away from this. You know I can't. And at the moment I want nothing more."

What can he say to that?

Alistair rests his forehead against Cullen's shoulder, exhaling quietly.

"I'm sorry," he whispers at last. "I wish you could walk away from it. Not -- because I want you to shirk your duty or anything of the sort; because I wish there was someone who knew enough about all this to step up and let you fall back. You've done so much. You thought you wouldn't have to keep doing this for much longer. Certainly nothing like this."

His mouth quirks, faintly.

"If I knew anything about the Qunari besides what Sten and Bull've told me, I'd step up for you myself."