[sandbox]

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair surprises himself: he adapts to the Basin a lot quicker than he expected.

The camps feel -- snug, he decides. In a good way. Trees overhead, a limited number of egress points, a vantage point so high it puts every night by the ladder to shame: they're not the stone walls of Skyhold, but maybe they're the next best thing. After an initial restless night or two, he sleeps soundly.

(Knowing he's surrounded by lots of people with sharp, pointy weapons? Also helpful.)

Joining the patrol rotations seems like a decent next step. No point in being in the field, especially after all that training with Bull, if he's just going to twiddle his thumbs all day.

Comments

[howtoactfereldan]

"Always." He squeezes Alistair's hand. "But you're eating something before we turn in for good."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair twists to look over his shoulder, peeking out from between his fingers.

"You won't demote me to Half Commander, then?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Now, why would I do that?" Warm, amused. "By that logic I'd be less than a recruit, wouldn't I."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Fair point, I suppose."

He rolls over to face Cullen; as he takes his hand away, it reveals that he's grinning.

"Right then. The sooner I eat, the sooner we can get back to..." A considering pause. "Caboodling."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Ugh."

Cullen, in contrast, rolls onto his back. Away. Pointedly.

"That's what I get for being nice."

[bringspeopletogether]

"What?" says Alistair, laughing. "You don't want to caboodle?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Bad enough that you made me snuggle." He points at Alistair. "I refuse to do the other thing."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's too busy snickering to answer right away. In lieu of that, he pats Cullen's shoulder.

Once he can actually speak: "Shall I come up with a better word for it? Something manlier?"

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen snorts. "It's not manliness that's the problem with it."

He tucks his hands behind his head. "Go get your food. And then we'll debate what it is we're doing."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Yes, Commander."

He leans over Cullen, smiling, and gives him a quick kiss before pushing himself to his feet.

"Love you. Back in a moment."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Let me know how many people scatter away when you set foot outside," Cullen says, giving Alistair a lazy grin.

(The moment the tent flap closes, Cullen's diving for the desk.)

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair reddens -- whether at the remark or the smile, who knows -- and steps outside.

(Both. The answer's both.)

The evening's rations aren't completely depleted by the time he arrives, thank the Maker: he secures a portion of meat and some kind of roasted root or another to bring back to their tent. Midway there, his foot catches a scrap of leather that must have fallen off the heap destined for the camp's makeshift armory. He doesn't notice it until it's winging forward a yard or so.

Hm.

After a couple seconds to ponder, Alistair picks it up to stuff in his pocket.




"Three," he announces as he pushes open the tent flap. "Four if you count the man looking up at the trees and whistling to himself."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Have you ever known someone to do that and not be eavesdropping?" Cullen asks; he's back at the desk, scrawling a few notes, his back to Alistair.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Not a one," says Alistair.

A beat.

With resigned amusement, "You went back to work the instant I left, didn't you."

[howtoactfereldan]

In his very best I am a deeply reasonable and responsible person voice:

"Now, Alistair, would I do that?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"...Yes," he says. "Yes, you absolutely would."

Shaking his head -- still amused -- Alistair returns to his seat on the floor to dig into his meal.

[howtoactfereldan]

"There's your answer, then." Very cheerfully.

[bringspeopletogether]

After swallowing a mouthful of food, Alistair sighs, "I can't leave you alone for a minute. It's tragic, really. I'll have to start taking all your quills with me whenever I'm out."

[howtoactfereldan]

"You're welcome to try it."

Less cheerful. More saccharine.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair snorts. "No thank you. I have some sense of self-preservation."

He chews another bite of food, considering.

"If you had to give up your coat or your quills, which would you pick?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Quills," Cullen says promptly. "Easier to replace. This had better not be the first step in a plan, Alistair."

[bringspeopletogether]

"You have my word: it's not." He lays a hand on his chest. "Just curiosity. Speaking of -- "

He points to Cullen.

"I've always wondered. Where did you find that coat?"

[howtoactfereldan]

A sudden, crooked smile, then.

"Had to find something that wasn't templar armor, didn't I."

He rubs the back of his neck. "Got dragged into a master armorer's workshop. This... somebody'd had it made up, special order, and never came back for it. Thought it suited. -- I mean, thought it would do. Since we knew the Conclave would happen in Haven. Appropriate for the climate."

(When he gets nervous, or awkward, or -- paradoxically -- thoroughly comfortable, he sounds far more like he came from southern Ferelden.)

[bringspeopletogether]

As he listens, Alistair's smile warms.

"Their loss, your gain," he says. "I think it suits, too."

(He might be a smidge biased in that assessment, but still.)

[howtoactfereldan]

Pinking a little, and staring very hard at the pages in front of him:

"It's functional. That's all. I've enough vices without adding vanity."

Beat.

"More vanity. Before you say anything about my hair."