[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]

Alistair exhales, a little shakily, as his own smile grows. He brushes the collar of Cullen's robe aside and bends to kiss his chest; he follows it with another kiss to his neck, then his mouth.

(Those words alone have him practically melting against Cullen as he kisses him.)

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen closes his eyes on a sigh, back arching a little; he rubs his palms up and down Alistair's back.

He might have forgotten about the tea a little bit.

[bringspeopletogether]

No complaints from Alistair, if his eager hum is anything to go off. He threads his fingers through Cullen's hair as he deepens the kiss; his free hand smooths down to Cullen's waist.

"Still perfect," he whispers, half-laughing, before kissing Cullen again. And again.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen, alas, cannot be distracted that easily.

...not for long, anyhow. It takes a moment before he has the wherewithal to gently bite Alistair's lower lip and murmur, "How about now?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Yes," he breathes.

Reflexively, he clutches Cullen's hair tighter.

"Cullen."

[howtoactfereldan]

When Alistair does it, it's instinct to turn his head, baring his throat. He can hear his pulse in his ears.

"Now?" Only a little higher-pitched.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair nods. He nuzzles Cullen's neck, breathing deep. "Yes."

The lightest nip, right over his pulse point.

"What do you think? What about now?"

[howtoactfereldan]

His fingers dig into Alistair's back as he whines, sudden and sharp.

Uneven, now: "You're the one hung up on perfection, Theirin."

[bringspeopletogether]

Serene: "Well, at least you seem to be enjoying yourself."

He sweeps his tongue over the spot he bit.

"I'll accept that."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Glad that's clear," Cullen manages, with a shiver. "Alistair."

[bringspeopletogether]

He's smirking. "Yes?"

(He's trying not to ask, what would you like me to do? Trying not to worry so much about doing something wrong.)

He slides his hand to Cullen's belly, working at the tie of his robe.

[howtoactfereldan]

Without thinking too hard about it, he covers Alistair's hand.

And he can't look at Alistair when he says, voice thick with something close to shame, "Can we -- leave that out of it? For now?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Immediately, Alistair stops.

(If Cullen isn't looking at him, he doesn't see the flash of concern on Alistair's face. Probably for the best.)

"Of course." Quiet. He flattens his hand, smoothing the tie back into place.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I'm sorry." Barely audible. "I don't mean to be -- difficult. I can -- if you'd rather -- "

[bringspeopletogether]

"You don't have to apologize."

He's loosened his grip on Cullen's hair by now; he smooths that down as well.

"And you're not being difficult. I'd rather you tell me no than go along with it when you're not particularly inclined."

[howtoactfereldan]

He's doing his best not to look at Alistair. No louder than before: "Truly?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Truly."

Gently, he strokes his palm over Cullen's hair again.

[howtoactfereldan]

He makes himself take in a few breaths. They're raggedy.







"I can't... lose myself, right now." Shame. Definitely. "I'm sorry. I know it's -- not what you had in mind."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Oh," he breathes, without quite being conscious of it. Alistair slips to one side: laying next to Cullen now, one arm still hooked around him. "Cullen, it's all right. It's fine. Don't ever apologize for that."

[howtoactfereldan]

"The alternative's fury." He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, hard. "I -- look, before I do some violence to myself, can I see if a cup of tea will halt it in its tracks?"

[bringspeopletogether]

The flicker of concern has moved on to a flicker of alarm.

Alistair's voice stays calm, though, when he says, "Yes. Absolutely. Come on -- "

He rolls out of bed to start for the kitchen.

[howtoactfereldan]

So does Cullen. He stops, though, to pick up a blanket, and wrap it tightly around his shoulders -- tight as he can.

[bringspeopletogether]

The fire's down to embers; a little stoking, a little more wood, and it crackles back to life. Alistair fills the kettle and hangs it over the flames.

As they wait for it to boil, Alistair takes a seat and holds out an arm to Cullen, lifting his eyebrows in gentle inquiry.

[howtoactfereldan]

The hand that isn't holding the blanket shut slips out to meet Alistair's.

He's still not meeting his eyes, though.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair links their fingers, grip firm and warm.

"You're here," he whispers. "You're safe."