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They stumbled from the tavern.
Well. She stumbled. He mostly supported her. That’s what happened when The Iron Bull invited you to drink with him to successfully slaying a High Dragon. The qunari taught you secret qunlat dirty words. And he gave you something to drink that felt like it just burned away the nerve endings in your mouth and throat and probably was busy digesting your stomach right now.
Maker’s breath she would have such a terrible hangover tomorrow.
She had Cullen’s arm around her waist, he held her upright, helped her walk and she had a fist full of his fur pauldrons in her hand. He held her close, she could feel his body against her – his armour had stayed in his quarters when he had come to find her and he just wore the fur against the cold of a night at Skyhold now.
Róisín cackled madly, leaned over to bury her face in the fur that smelled of spice, leather, candlesmoke, and just... him. Her face was surrounded by a cloud of alcohol.
“Are you alright?” he asked, suppressing a chuckle of his own.
“I am bettaaaahhh than evahhh!” she confirmed, swaying against him, feet dragging behind. He wrapped both arms around her and she heard him chuckle, felt the vibration of his voice through his firm chest, the warmth of his arms around her. She glanced up, nose brushing his chin. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, suddenly almost nervous, cheeks flushed – maybe from the alcohol, maybe from how close he was. “I… love you…” she said, and there was something very sincere in her voice, something almost sober.
He laughed it off, shook his head.
“You are drunk.”
“I sure aaaaaaam. Still love you though.”
He hesitated. And where she sober, she might have been upset, scared even, worried he might be taken aback by her mumbled confession. But all she could really focus on now was his smile. His hand came to her cheek, caressed it gently, brushed short dark strands behind her ear and he leaned to press his lips to her brow.
“And if you still mean that when you’re sober tomorrow, I hope you will come find me to tell me again,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. Her heart was racing wildly in her chest, eyes closed, savouring the scent, the feeling of being so close to him.
Closing her eyes was a bad mistake though. Her head bobbed forward, face buried in his furs. He chuckled, brushed his finger through her hair once, before he cradled her in his arms – like he had once before, under very different, much more dire circumstances. He let her rest her head against his shoulder.
“Let’s get you to bed, Inquisitor,” he said and carried her across Skyhold’s courtyards to her quarters in the highest tower. She blinked up at him, admired his profile against the backdrop of the starry night.
“Mmmhhh yes, Commander, get me to bed!” she cried out, her head rolling back clumsily. She dissolved in a fit of giggles that made his lips twitch into a smirk. “I learned something today… and it applies!” she then declared, surely thought she was whispering but with a voice box as oiled as hers was tonight, that was damn near impossible.
“What’s that?”
“Taarsidath-an halsaam.”
“And what does that mean?” he asked amused. He felt her stir in his arms, then her lips gently pressed against his jawline.
“I will bring myself sexual pleasaaahhhh later, while thinking about this with great respect,” she said.
He was certain his ears blushed along with his face, and no amount of turning away to hide it and laughing it off would help that. Luckily, her head bobbed back onto his shoulder and she sighed sleepily.
They reached her chambers, he pushed open the door with his back and climbed the last few stairs. By now she was breathing steady in his arms, half asleep already. It was the first time he was in her quarters, with the luxurious serault glass surrounding them and her large, Free Marches style four poster bed. He put her down on it, pulled the covers over her and leaned down to kiss her forehead once more. She stirred in her sleep and whispered his name once. He smiled, brought her hand to his lips.
“Róisín?” he asked. She mumbled something unintelligible and his smile turned softer. He brushed through her hair, sat down on the edge of the bed for a moment, simply watching her and the words just came. A courage to say them he would probably never have when she was awake and sober, but it was nice to say them out loud once. “I love you, too.”
And Maker’s breath, he hoped she would remember this tomorrow. He gently placed her hand on her pillow before he rose from her bed, careful not to disturb her and on quiet steps, he left her in her quarters to rest.