[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]

This is perfect, thinks Alistair drowsily. A soft bed; Cullen in his arms; no priorities, for either of them, but staying right here. It's the sort of memory one would draw on for comfort when they're slogging through a swamp by day and sleeping on a cold bedroll by night.

The sun continues its track across the pillows. Alistair slips into a doze, back out, back in again, the whole room taking on a hazy dreamlike quality as the moments blend together.

[howtoactfereldan]

Perhaps half an hour passes before Cullen, still mostly asleep, presses his hips back against Alistair.

(It's instinctive, born from a nice, idle dream -- which is a pleasant change of pace for Cullen.)

[bringspeopletogether]

...Oh. Well. Hello, there.

Alistair drifts back to more-or-less consciousness. One corner of his mouth twitches into a smile; he shifts his embrace to draw Cullen even more securely against him.

[howtoactfereldan]

Yes. Good.

Cullen arches his neck with a happy hum.

"Nice man," he mumbles.

[bringspeopletogether]

A soft laugh rumbles his chest. He shifts his arms lower, settling them across Cullen's belly -- the better to get a little extra leverage when he rocks forward, just a bit.

"I try to be," he whispers in Cullen's ear.

[howtoactfereldan]

Another hum, louder.

"Alistair." That's softer. "Yes."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair hides a grin against Cullen's hair.

More pressure, then; he keeps the rocking slow, and gentle, but there's no mistaking his deliberation anymore. (If there ever was.)

Low, "I trust you'll tell me if I ought to find the oil?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Maker." A quiet laugh. "Not near awake enough for that. Can we save it for after the first cup of tea?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Mock-doleful: "Oh, I suppose."

(He's laughing a little as he says it.)

He splays one hand over Cullen's abdomen. "Anything you'd like from me in the meantime?"

[howtoactfereldan]

A slightly sharper inhale.

More tentative:

"Not if you don't want."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair pauses. Eases back an inch, curling his fingers into the fabric of Cullen's robe.

Soft, "I do want. I promise."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Oughtn't we to look to you first?" No louder.

[bringspeopletogether]

"We have time enough to look to both of us."

He presses a small kiss to Cullen's shoulder.

"I promise that, too."

[howtoactfereldan]

Not what Cullen asked.

He makes himself take in a slow, steadying breath, and let it out. Whatever's inside of him, left over from last night, is too tangled for him to make sense of right now.

Finally, low:

"I can't tell if I don't know what I want, or if I don't know how to ask for it. Either way I'm not much use to you."

[bringspeopletogether]

"All right."

Still quiet, and calm. Alistair resettles his arm around Cullen's chest.

"I was thinking, earlier, that just this..." He lays his hand over Cullen's heart. "You and me, here. That it's perfect all on its own. You're of use to me just by being here. You always have been."

A pause.

Softer, "And if you don't know what you want right now, or how to ask for it, that's fine. That doesn't make this any less perfect."

[howtoactfereldan]

If perfection is what Alistair wants, Cullen will disappoint every time.

But it would be nice if he didn't let it show. He's of use by existing. So he should... exist.

At least it's perfect for one of us, he thinks, and is glad Alistair can't see his expression.

[bringspeopletogether]

The silence...probably isn't a good sign. And Alistair can't do anything but fall back on his usual tactic: strive to fill that silence.

"I love you," he whispers. "I love you as you are. You're still learning to want things. That won't happen right away; I know. But that doesn't change how much I love you."

[howtoactfereldan]

You shouldn't, is the black thought he keeps back.




"If I said I wanted to stop ruining your day -- "

Their day. He knows how rare this sort of time is.

" -- but that I didn't know how to do that either...?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Why do you think you're ruining my day?"

[howtoactfereldan]

Sardonic, as he curls in a little:

"We're off to a rousing start, aren't we?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"We're talking through something." He lets Cullen move, but doesn't pull away. "A difficult something, yes, but that doesn't mean the day's ruined. All it means is that we're talking."

He quirks a lopsided smile.

"And you know how much I love talking."

[howtoactfereldan]

Alistair lets Cullen move; Cullen relaxes a little.

"You love chattering." That's at least a little amused. "That's very different than whatever this is."

[bringspeopletogether]

A soft chuckle, in spite of himself. "Perhaps," he allows. "But I also prefer this whatever-this-is to letting things fester overmuch. Or -- "

He realizes what he's going to say half a second before he says it: too soon to swallow it back.

"Doing the wrong thing."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen aims a small, tentative smile over his shoulder.

"All right," he says softly, and squeezes Alistair's hand.

[bringspeopletogether]

He returns the smile; stretches the inch or two he needs to kiss Cullen's temple. "All right," he agrees, no louder.

A beat goes by.

"Want to see about that first cup of tea?"