[sandbox]

[bringspeopletogether]

Skyhold gets quieter and quieter as the days move on. It's not a complete stand-down; there's cleanup to do, stragglers to round up, the same sort of business Alistair remembers from the months after the Blight. The Thaw, as Wardens call it. Thedas is thawing again, but the fortress only grows colder for it.

He won't lie: he'd feel warmer if Kieran and Morrigan were still there.

When Cullen suggests a vacation, Alistair lights up, only to deflate slightly when he realizes they'll be "vacationing" in Orlais. There's business to attend in Val Royeaux -- not the sort of business that'll keep Cullen occupied from sunup to sundown, but enough to require an in-person visit for a week or so. On the one hand: Orlais. On the other: he can't argue that time away from Skyhold, especially in Cullen's company, will help.

...So will the cheese, probably.

(Look, as Alistair has said many a time, he is a very predictable man.)

They room at a small place in the university quarter that's downright plain for Val Royeaux. Libraries for Cullen, a cafe around the corner for both of them, limited contact with people trilling about whatever stupid, petty scandal's hit the court this week -- it could be far worse. Alistair takes to writing his letters at the cafe, usually accompanied by some flaky pastry or another.

Today, they're cheese-filled. It's hard to descend too far into a personal funk when you've got a cheese-filled pastry.

Comments

[bringspeopletogether]

"Not even if I ask very, very nicely?"

His fingertips circle the base of Cullen's spine.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen squirms just a little.

"You'll never make me talk."

(He sounds like he hopes Alistair plans to try.)

[bringspeopletogether]

"Are you sure about that?" he murmurs in Cullen's ear, struggling not to laugh. He brushes a light kiss over his earlobe. "Are you absolutely sure?"

His hand splays wide on Cullen's lower back.

[howtoactfereldan]

"The Maker is on my side, you reprobate." Cullen is also stifling laughter. (Also tightening his fists in Alistair's shirt.) "Do your worst."

[bringspeopletogether]

So cheerfully: "Right then."

Alistair wraps both arms firmly around Cullen's waist and heaves him off his feet.

He doesn't actually throw Cullen onto the bed once he gets there -- it's more like a mutual toppling -- but the intent is there. (As is a lot more laughing. He's not even trying to stifle it any longer.)

[howtoactfereldan]

"Oof."

Cullen grabs Alistair by the collar, grinning. "You big oaf." And kisses him soundly.

[bringspeopletogether]

That's one way to get the laughing to stop!

Alistair returns the kiss eagerly, hands fastening to the sides of Cullen's shirt. When they have to come up for air, he says, "Your oaf."

That's immediately followed by another long, thorough kiss.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen seems very focused on rucking up Alistair's shirt enough to get his hands on bare skin. "My only oaf."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Always," he breathes against Cullen's cheek. "Yes."

Cullen's hands on his skin are all the extra motivation Alistair needs. He squirms out of his shirt; within moments he's flung it aside so he can get to work on Cullen's own clothes.

[howtoactfereldan]

"Mm." Slowly Cullen runs his hands up and down Alistair's back. "I do hope you weren't planning on stopping with this."

[bringspeopletogether]

As his fingers unknot the laces of Cullen's trousers -- as he pulls in a breath, back curving into Cullen's touch -- "Oh, not for some time yet."

He's smirking, with a faint wicked edge.

"We've nowhere to be until sunrise."

[howtoactfereldan]

"And you did say you would do your worst," Cullen reminds him.

Hopefully.

[bringspeopletogether]

A low laugh. "I did."

He has to raise himself off Cullen for a moment to get his trousers the rest of the way down; his own soon follow, landing in a heap on the floorboards.

"I suppose that means you're not ready to talk yet, ser?"

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen frames Alistair's face gently with both hands.

"Alistair," he says, seriously, "am I ever?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair sputters a laugh and drops his forehead onto Cullen's chest.

"You'd take a vow of silence without my influence, wouldn't you." He kisses Cullen's chest; he curves his hands around Cullen's sides, thumbs working light circles over his skin. "Go live as a hermit on a mountaintop."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen sighs, content.

"You mean what I was doing before you moved in?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Something like that." Still laughing.

As he runs his hands down to Cullen's thighs, he pushes himself higher to mouth a line of kisses over his neck.

"More like -- " One kiss. " -- kept leaving my things -- " Another. " -- and kept sleeping in your bed -- " Another. " -- and suddenly all of it was in your room."

He ends with a last kiss at Cullen's sternum, open-mouthed and wet.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen lets out a long, shaky breath; his eyes fall closed as he slides a hand into Alistair's hair, fingers tightening.

Uneven: "And that was the end of the quiet."

[bringspeopletogether]

"But..." He trails one hand inward, teasing, then rests it atop Cullen's navel. "The start of some other rather nice things to make up for it."

He nips at Cullen's neck, lightly.

[howtoactfereldan]

A small yelp, more startled than anything else; he brings his free arm around Alistair's shoulders, holding on.

"I'm not in a position to deny it, Theirin."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair grins, the epitome of innocence and cheer. He makes himself more comfortable against Cullen; it might involve more shifting and wriggling than strictly necessary.

(It's a very deliberate sort of shifting and wriggling.)

"You're the only person in the world," he murmurs, fond, "who can call me that and make me like it. Did you know that?"

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen's fingertips dig into Alistair's back: shifting and wriggling has consequences, especially if Alistair doesn't seem inclined to get on with it.

Then, thankfully, a distraction. "I -- no." Beat. "Really?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Really."

His smile's gone softer, now.

"Other people say it and it's a burden. You say it, and it's...not. I don't know how you do it. But it just feels like -- me. Like my own name."

Alistair stretches to kiss Cullen again.

"Not Maric's."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen runs his hands down Alistair's back, smoothing palms over his spine, his scars.

"Never knew the man." Cullen's smile is crooked. "But I know you. The name's yours."

[bringspeopletogether]

A soft, contented hum. "And it can just be a name. Nothing more."

No expectations beyond simply being himself.