[sandbox]

[bringspeopletogether]

No Orlesian nobles pounded down their door to demand their hound back, so when Alistair and Cullen left Halamshiral, the newly-dubbed Gruyere happily trotted alongside their horses.

A few weeks after -- which included some quiet conversation, a few orders placed with a few merchants, and almost an entire extra pack of gifts slung over one of their mounts -- Gru just as happily trotted along as they turned for South Reach.

Years of correspondence led Alistair to build an elaborate image of Cullen's family in his mind; Mia, perhaps, more fully realized than the others, but everyone with a name and a voice to match their letters. They're...not wholly inaccurate? But Mia's definitely shorter than he expected, and one or two of the children a little louder.

(Mia's voice, however, adopts exactly the pitch he imagined it would when Alistair brings up the whole I'm-your-brother-in-law-now thing.)

It's a nice place. Just the right kind of rambunctious, with all the kids running around; just the right kind of homey.

If only Cullen weren't -- well, reacting more or less precisely how Alistair worried he'd react to the reunion.

Comments

[howtoactfereldan]

"And I look forward to making you rise in two or three hours," he returns. "It's more the standing up without warning."

[bringspeopletogether]

"I see." He slips an arm around Cullen's waist. "My apologies for putting you through such a trial as well, then."

Gru steps closer, nudging Alistair's free hand; chuckling, Alistair gives him a thorough scratch behind the ears. "All right, yes, goodnight to you as well," he says to the dog. "Sweet dreams."

Satisfied, Gru trots to the door. Alistair lets go of Cullen just long enough to let Gru out -- his bedroll being stationed like a guard post a few feet from the threshold -- then shuts the door and returns to his husband's side.

[howtoactfereldan]

He's pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. Then he stretches. When he looks up at Alistair, Cullen's smile is a little tired again.

"You seem happy here." Soft.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair returns the smile; takes one of Cullen's hands, slipping their fingers together.

"I am." Not much louder. "It's a nice vacation. Finally meeting everyone is -- fantastic."

(Among other things, he didn't expect to get on with Bran as well as they have. Cullen's brother has an excellent sense of humor.)

Then his smile dims, fractionally. Alistair hesitates a beat before venturing, even quieter, "You...don't seem as happy?"

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen shrugs a shoulder, averts his eyes. "Doesn't matter."

He doesn't expect it to work, mind. Not on Alistair. If he has to, he'll point out that at least he's not saying I'm fine.

[bringspeopletogether]

"You know it does to me."

He squeezes Cullen's hand, gently.

"You don't have to talk about it, love. But you can if you need to. Any time."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen's face crumples a little. He nods. Steps in. Slips his arms around Alistair, clinging.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair wraps his arms around him in kind. No less gentle, he runs a hand up and down Cullen's back.

"I love you," he whispers. "I'm here. It's all right."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen buries his face in Alistair's shoulder, and makes himself breathe.

"I know." Muffled. "I know."

[bringspeopletogether]

He keeps rubbing Cullen's back, slow, and touches his lips to the top of his head.

"Can I do anything for you?" Soft.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen shakes his head.

"Just... don't want to talk about it."

[bringspeopletogether]

"All right," he murmurs. "I'll prattle enough for both of us." A slight smile. "It's what you keep me around for."

A beat.

"Until it gives you a headache, anyway."

[howtoactfereldan]

"It is not," he mumbles, tangling one hand in Alistair's shirt.

[bringspeopletogether]

Were Cullen in a less fragile state, Alistair would offer a teasing rejoinder: ah, so it's only for my arse, then, I knew it. It's not the time.

Instead, he hugs Cullen a little closer.

"Well, whatever the reason," he murmurs, "I'm yours for good."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen's breath catches.

He shakes his head in flat denial.

Don't lie to me. Don't.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair closes his eyes. Cradles the back of Cullen's head.

For as long as I'm alive.

It's the best he can offer; it's not something he can say right now, either.

[howtoactfereldan]

Alistair is happy here. Cullen can't ask that they leave.

Even if they did -- there's nowhere to go.









"I'm tired," he manages finally.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair nods, a little unhappily.

None of that unhappiness makes it to his voice, though, when he says, "Then let's go to bed." He smooths his palm over Cullen's hair. "Come on, love."

[howtoactfereldan]

Slowly Cullen pulls away. He doesn't look at Alistair as he drifts toward the bed, undoing the closures of his jacket.

(Hunched into himself again.)

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair watches him go. With a silent sigh, he runs his fingers through his own hair and follows.

He doesn't need much prep for bed: he's alread in his linen trousers, since it seemed unlikely he'd venture out again after he settled down to write those letters. (Or try to write them.) He strips off his shirt -- maybe Cullen's favorite view will cheer him up a little as well? -- and yanks off his socks before settling onto the mattress, turning toward Cullen without hesitation.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen isn't paying much mind to the view, which is a pity. He's changing in silence, movements spare and sparse. He doesn't stop to fold his clothes; his boots are knocked over on the floor.

Gingerly he sets himself down on the bed, his back to Alistair, and takes a moment to let out a breath before stretching out on his back to stare at the ceiling.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair scoots closer, but doesn't say anything for a moment.







"So," he whispers at last, "what sort of trebuchet things should we look for tomorrow?"

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen shakes his head, closing his eyes.

It sounds like altogether too much work. Deeply impractical. Wasteful.

[bringspeopletogether]

Well.

Alistair breathes out. Tentatively, he reaches for Cullen, settling a light hand on his chest.

[howtoactfereldan]

At Alistair's touch, he flinches -- but only because he wasn't expecting it. He then covers Alistair's hand with his. (His fingers are cold.)