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Cullen doesn't know why it's so much easier to be with Josephine in all this. Not that it's hard to be with Leliana, not that he doesn't want to be around her -- because he is trying, he is trying so hard. But Josephine is open and honest with what she wants and feels. Josephine likes to kiss in corners and on balconies and whisper what she wants him to do to her right into his ear in the middle of a game of Wicked Grace -- and then take his money and laugh.
Leliana is not that way.
Leliana is exquisitely secretive about everything, and it seeps into everything, including the things she might want from Cullen. Josephine seems to understand perfectly, but in all the ways that the Ambassador is empathetic and intuitive, Leliana is the equivalent of riding a horse into a wall. So Josephine tells him what she wants. Leliana doesn't even consider letting him guess.
It is not upsetting. Not even frustrating. It simply...is. And Cullen doesn't know what to do about that.
It happens between them all so easily -- just a night after a successful mission, the three of them alone in Josephine's quarters, drinking to the Inquisitor, to her hard work and cleverness, to their own bit of work they'd put into making things come together. Cullen leaves the room for only a moment, to get more whiskey, and when he comes back, they are kissing. He stands in the doorway for a moment, before Josephine looks up, as though offended, and says, "Aren't you going to join us?"
And that's that.
Now it's easier. And harder. Everything around them is complicated, and Cullen supposes if he'd wanted something easy, he could have just drank himself stupid every night until this was over, and then possibly died. Josephine disapproves of dying. She's said it nine hundred times.
"You must stop fretting over her," she says to him one day. It's easy for her, of course. She and Leliana practically communicate without words. Cullen is not that way. "She will tell you what she wants when she is ready."
"And if that is never--"
"Then I suppose it is never," Josephine says quietly. She runs her fingers through his hair. "You look like a sad nug. But cuter," she adds, kissing his temple. "Cheer up, Commander. Leliana has great admiration for you. Perhaps you are a bit...intimidating."
"I'm not even a little. All the recruits have told me."
Josephine smiles. "Well, she is known to have her weak spots. Very specific to Leliana alone, you understand." Cullen doesn't, and it must be obvious. "Perhaps you should try thinking like a spy master for a while, instead of like a three hundred man army."
"We are much larger than that and you--" He gets a very expensive pillow tossed right into his face, and it's so easy to tumble into the sheets with her and pretend that there is nothing outside of these walls.
Think like a spy master, think like a spy master, think--
A crow shits on his armor, and Cullen gives up on that for the day.
"I hate these boots," Leliana says, almost to herself. They're reading together in the library, looking over notes from another misson in the Exalted Plains, while Cullen mumbles to himself about elves and why he can't always understand elves and he wished he understood elves and he's glad Trevelyan understands elves because he's at a loss--
"You hate what?"
"These boots," she says again, more for him now. "They're...I don't know."
"Practical? Comfortable? Good for walking in the mud and snow?"
She lobs one of the smaller books on their table at him, and he catches it. "They call you a lion, sometimes, but I know better." Leliana leans forward and captures his lips in her own, their first kiss without Josephine present in some time. "Cat."
"What's wrong with your boots?" he asks again.
She pulls back, tipping her head to the side like one of her birds. "Do you care so much?"
"You seem upset."
"I'm not. I only wish..." She sighs, glancing upwards as though the Maker might have inspiration for her. "Ages ago, I had the most beautiful shoes." Cullen listens to her go on, and he's listening, but also thinking. His eyes trail down her legs, to the tips of her boots, scuffed and worn down. It's not a lot, it's hardly anything -- but it's something.
"You're going to Val Royeaux today, are you not?"
The Inquisitor looks up from her breakfast, face bright and hair pinned back and looking all the world like she has not fallen out of the Fade and right into hell. Cullen knows what he looks like, he chanced a quick glance in the mirror this morning, didn't really like what he saw.
"I am."
"I...wondered. If you could get something for me."
Trevelyan covers her mouth with her hand, swallowing a laugh. "You need me to buy you something?"
He scowls. "Don't be that way."
"Cullen. Commander. You say the word and it's yours. It's just...unexpected." She gestures for him to sit across from her. "What did you have in mind?"
"Shoes," he says. "For...someone else. Ah, this--" He rubs his neck, feeling a flush crawl over it. He can see Varric and Dorian sauntering in from the corner of his eye, and he knows if they hear a single word of this, they'll never let him live it down. In a rush, he leans forward, whispers what he wants in her ear, and heads out, just in time to hear Dorian calling after him. He chances a look over his shoulder, wondering if perhaps she hadn't heard a thing -- but her eyes are shining, her lips curled up, and he knows she's heard every word. And he'll be getting what he's asked for.
Of course, knowing her, he'll get seven hundred shoes, and a few new death threats to top it all off.
Commander:
I hope this is what you had in mind. You'd probably fall on your ass trying to count the number of shoes I did come across, and you can thank me later for telling Dorian they were for me. So you know, you're welcome and everything I guess. I hope Leliana likes them.
"Josephine isn't here--"
"She said it was fine."
"You asked her?"
"It was part of the agreement." Cullen shuts the door to his quarters and locks it behind him. Getting the gift from Trevelyan and knowing that perhaps he could get a bit closer to Leliana has given him drive, and he kisses her like hasn't in a long time. It clearly surprises her, but she doesn't resist, her arms tangling around his neck as he pushes the hood of her robes off. "She'll be by later," he adds quietly, hefting her onto the bed.
"After you've had your wicked way with me, then?"
"Or perhaps the other way around," he murmurs. But she is an expanse of muscles and secrets and Cullen spends far longer than he should going over every inch of her. She shudders under his touch, and he wonders if this was a better gift to her -- finally trying to appreciate and understand in maybe ways he has not. It's the most satisfying thing that's happened to him in so long, he almost forgets the box resting patiently beside the bed. "I have something for you," he says, reaching for it and pushing it into her arms. "It's not much--"
"You got me a present?" Her voice shifts into something different, something he hasn't heard before. It's not naive, not childish, really. Less troubled, he might call it, and her face brightens considerably. She pulls at the string around the box and tosses it aside, lifting the lid and giving a little oh when she sees what's inside. "Cullen."
"You complained about your boots."
"I did."
"You've told everyone who will listen what life used to be like for you in Orlais."
"I have."
"Meaning me, for the most part."
She pulls out the shoes and turns them over in her hands. They're not terribly fancy, not decorated with jewels or anything like that -- but they are unique, he supposes. In a way that shoes can be. Perhaps because she's holding them, perhaps because the Inquisitor is very good at shopping for Leliana. Cullen has no idea. "You were listening," she says. He takes them from her hands, settling between her knees and lifting each foot, one by one, and sliding them into the shoes.
"I am always listening," he says, and presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh.
Josephine leans back against the pillows, inspecting the shoes carefully. "I won't be able to steal them from you. I have a delicate face and absolute man feet."
Leliana laughs. "You do not, Josie. You have lovely feet. They are just...larger than mine."
"They are practically on par with Cullen's."
Cullen shrugs. "Or perhaps I simply have delicate feet. You did tell me I have the profile of a princess."
"Only after several glasses of brandy," Josephine argues. She groans. "You are both impossible."
Cullen leans forward and kisses her temple. "It's alright, you don't have to be jealous." She opens her mouth to protest, but he presses a box into her hands. "I have something for you, too."
Josephine squeals, and it's something to behold as she tears into the little gift and unearths a delicate haircomb. "Oh, you are magnificent, did you know that?"
"I bought that some time ago, before we were all...together. I bought it for someone, but I didn't know who." Cullen reaches up, her hair easily twisting into thick, elegant ropes on her head. He slides the comb into the curls, fingers ghosting under her chin to get a better look. "Beautiful." He looks at Leliana, who is still wearing the shoes and nothing else, and she nods her approval.
"But look at us," Josephine says sadly. "You've done all this and here we have nothing for you."
"No," Cullen says, and he lays between them as they recline on the pillows, their hands sliding into his as he closes his eyes. "I don't need gifts, you know. I have the two of you."