[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

[bringspeopletogether]

"Maker's breath, Commander, if you can't do as you're told I'll have to sling you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Is that what you want?"

(Alistair could totally pull it off. Warden strength means never having to say ow, I just dropped that massively heavy object right on my foot.)

[howtoactfereldan]

A moment's thought.

"Yes," he says, finally, "but also you could move a few feet to your right."

[bringspeopletogether]

In perfectly normal tones: "Oh, yes, I suppose I could."

He lets go of Cullen and scoots aside.




And, two seconds later, tackles him around the midsection to sling him into a fireman's carry.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen squawks.

And prays, more silently, that nobody's eavesdropping and decides it would be a good idea to make sure the commander isn't dead or in the process of becoming thereof.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's laughing. Once he's on his feet, he spins Cullen in a quick circle, then -- with care -- lowers him out of the carry.

"All right, Commander." Cheerful. He claps him on the shoulders. "Good to see you upright."

[howtoactfereldan]

"And dizzy." Cullen steadies himself by leaning against Alistair. "But I followed orders."

Pause.

"Ser."

[bringspeopletogether]

"You followed them very well, Commander." With his hands at Cullen's shoulders, it's the work of seconds to draw him in. One hand slips to the back of his neck. "Well done."

That's all the warning Cullen gets before Alistair kisses him.

[howtoactfereldan]

And Alistair's pleased with him.

The thought floods his senses, makes his chest tighten in a way that isn't unpleasant at all. Cullen locks his arms around Alistair, and does his best to be good.

(When he thinks about this moment later, he will make himself blush, and facepalm: it's embarrassing, being this predictable.)

[bringspeopletogether]

He draws out the kiss for as long as he can, slow, thorough. Ensuring Cullen knows just how pleased he is.

He keeps his hand at Cullen's neck when they finally drift apart; he keeps his eyes closed, forehead resting lightly against Cullen's. "There," he whispers, with the soft pride of one surveying another's work.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen's breathing is fast, and -- for a moment -- a little uneven.




"We could... do more of that later," he suggests. "With more... when we can keep things more private."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair breaks into a tiny grin. "Yes," he agrees. "Something to look forward to, once we're home."

(He won't deny it: he's a teensy bit smug at how quickly he managed to unmoor Cullen there. Quietly happy, too, knowing how much Cullen enjoyed it.)

"For now..." A softer kiss, to Cullen's scar. "To the lake?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Give me another moment?" He brushes a thumb over Alistair's cheekbone. "I'll seal the letter and have it sent out with the evening packet."

[bringspeopletogether]

He leans into the touch just a little, and sighs, quiet and contented. "All right."

It's difficult to remember why he felt so poorly when he walked into the tent half an hour ago. Everything's -- lighter. Steadier. More of Cullen's good work.

[howtoactfereldan]

He should tell him. He's got to tell him.

At the lake, Cullen thinks. Let this linger a while longer.

There's a candle already lit; Cullen folds the letter and seals it inside another page addressed to South Reach.

As they pass the palisade (and still within sight of the gate guards), Cullen takes Alistair's hand, and says, idly:

"So? What's going to be in your first letter, then?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"After a proper introduction that dwells more on my favorite types of cheese than anything involving the Fifth Blight?" Alistair smiles, winding his fingers more securely around Cullen's. "That threatened sketch of your hair first thing in the morning. Reassurances that you're doing a fine job looking out for the Inquisition. Maybe another sketch of you as three nugs standing on each others' shoulders, wearing your coat."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Sounds good. -- make sure you include all of those threatened sketches, yes? She'll appreciate that. And it might get you some drawings from the children in return."

(Cullen might send another note to Mia suggesting this. Maybe.)

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair brightens. "We could start a collection," he says. "Hang them all around the chest upstairs. Maybe put the most imposing-looking ones right behind your desk."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Any portraits of me stay upstairs," he warns.

[bringspeopletogether]

"And just when I planned to commission a full-size painting of you as a nug." Alistair heaves a sigh. "Damn. It was going to be your birthday present, too."

[howtoactfereldan]

"You weren't, and it wasn't."

[bringspeopletogether]

Straight-faced: "You got me. It was going to be a portrait of you as a bear."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen says thoughtfully, "It's been some time since I wielded the threat of porridge. It might be time to bring it back."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's jaw drops.

"But the porridge here is even worse than Skyhold's porridge!"

Would you truly be so cruel, Cullen?

[howtoactfereldan]

"Making it an even more potent weapon." Cheerful.

[bringspeopletogether]

Guess that means yes.

Alistair pulls a face and grumbles, good-naturedly. "Fine, fine. No silly portraits. Only very solemn and staid ones that never see the light of day."