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“…I fail to see why any of this is necessary.”
“It’s gloomy in here, Cullen. I’m trying to spruce things up a bit!”
“By cluttering up my office with tacky decorations?”
From his place atop the step-ladder leant up again Cullen’s bookshelf, Atticus flashed a lopsided grin down at the disgruntled Commander before returning to his work, tugging a string of garland from the basket of decorations hanging off his arm and artfully arranging them across the very top shelf. “They aren’t tacky, they’re festive!” he insisted brightly, regarding the leafy adornments with a critical eye while scratching at the shorn hair on the side of his head. “You’d think I was spreading nug droppings all over the room the way you keep grouching.”
Staring up at their Herald, Cullen’s mouth opened and closed several times, his hands clenching uselessly at his sides before he finally managed a rather indignant, “I am not grouching!”
Atticus laughed at that, studiously ignoring the Commander’s adorable spluttering and the way his face flushed a lovely shade of red. “Sure you aren’t. And I’m just a simple Marcher visiting Skyhold for the holidays. What with the merry markets, the snow, the giggling children playing in the streets, Ostwick is positively miserable this time of year.”
Cullen glowered, his brow furrowing delightfully. "Hilarious," he muttered, huffing and leaning back against his desk, watching Atticus out of the corner of his eye as the younger man finished with the garland and started pulling ribbons out of the basket, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he quieted down and listened to Atti hum while he worked. Truly, he didn’t actually mind his presence. In fact, Atticus’ visits to his little corner of the Inquisition had become somewhat routine, to the point that he could even admit that he looked forward to them. Atticus was… incredibly charming, in his own quirky, awkward way. He was loud, and sometimes a little obnoxious. Between him and Varric, the number of inappropriate jokes that were flying around Skyhold these days was atrocious. But he was also fiercely loyal, and had an endless wellspring of love and laughter that he was all too willing to share. That he was also ridiculously attractive had not escaped Cullen’s notice either. He had, in fact, been nursing what could only be described as a crush on the Inquisitor for months now. Not that he’d acted upon it or tried anything of course. The idea of potentially ruining… Whatever it was they had had kept him quiet. But beyond that, it was nice having someone around who wasn’t constantly vying for Commander Rutherford’s attention. It was nice to just be Cullen to someone – even if that someone was absolutely dreadful at chess.
So when their handsome red-headed Inquisitor had barged into his office a half hour prior with an armful of trimmings and ornaments and proclaimed it his maker-given duty to save the Commander from a winter of sadness and despair, Cullen had indulged him.
He was swiftly beginning to regret that decision, particularly once the mistletoe made an appearance.
Taking a step away from his desk, he lifted his hands pleadingly as Atticus started twining sprigs of the dastardly plant through the ribbon strung over his books. “Oh for- Inquisitor, really, I appreciate the gesture, but-“
“Cullen,” Atti interrupted, still smiling but leveling him with a stern look over his shoulder. “How many times am I gunna have to ask you to call me Atticus? Maker’s breath man, we’re friends. Out there, it’s ‘Herald this!’ and ‘Inquisitor that!’ You do know the title comes off, yeah? Among other things…” He smirked, his bright green eyes crinkling at the corners as he winked devilishly.
“Atticus,” Cullen remedied, sounding a bit strangled as his cheeks flushed. Normally he could handle the flirting, but… “I-I really don’t need any of this. It’s- not that it isn’t lovely but wouldn’t your decorating be better suited to a place where people will actually see it?”
Setting the basket down carefully, Atticus turned around and leaned back against the bookshelf, folding his arms across his chest and quirking a brow at the other man. “I suppose so, but this isn’t for them, Cullen, it’s for you.” His smile reappeared, though there was a slightly concerned look about him as he continued. “Honestly, what’s going on? Everyone else is in the holiday spirit.”
Holding up his hands, he started ticking people off on his fingers one by one. “Josie’s got half the keep in a ruckus preparing for the masquerade ball, I’ve never seen the cooks putting this much effort into our food. Bull’s got the Chargers building snow dragons on the battlements, Vivienne and Solas are working on some kind of Satinalia mural for the throne room. And I saw Cole trying to teach Leiliana’s birds how to sing carols. Hell, even Dorian’s getting into it and he’s from Tevinter – they celebrate a bit differently up North so I hear. Lot less snow there you see. So,” and here he folded his arms across his chest once more, eyeing Cullen up and down. “What’s with you? You’re Fereldan – I thought this sort of thing would be right up your alley.”
It was supposed to be light and teasing, judging by the Inquisitor’s tone. And Maker help him, he wanted to brush it off with a clever quip or some playful banter. Instead, he met Atti’s gaze for a brief moment before averting his eyes, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. Try as he might to scramble together anything coherent, or at least something to explain his sudden muteness, the words wouldn't come.
With the silence stretching uncomfortably between them, the smile slowly dropped off of Atticus’ face, until he was fidgeting with his rings on top of the ladder. “Er, look Cullen…” he began after the quiet became a little bit too unbearable for his tastes, “I didn’t mean to… to pry, or dredge up unpleasant memories. Only I thought… That is, what with the holidays and all, I figured you could use a little cheer? You’re always working so hard, and Josie said that a Ferelden Satinalia is second only to Antiva’s, so I assumed you liked this sort of thing. Which, y’know, in retrospect might not have been the best idea, honestly I s’pose I ought to have asked first, but I wasn’t really thinking about that. Mostly I was excited to be doing something nice for you and Maker, I’m making a mess of this, I…” his rambling trailed off into more silence, and after a moment he looked down at the floor, looking chastised and guilty in a way Cullen had never seen before. “I’ll ah- I’ll just go shall I? I can send a runner to take down the, um… the decorations.”
Atticus made to move off the ladder and head for the door, and Cullen reached out to him before he could stop himself. But any reassurances died in his throat when, in his apparent haste to put some space between himself and the Commander, the ladder tipped under Atticus’ weight. The man squawked in alarm, his arms pinwheeling as he tried to regain his balance before gravity sent him tumbling into Cullen with a yelp.
Not expecting an armful of Inquisitor, Cullen barely managed to keep them both upright, his arms wrapping securely around Atticus even as their combined weight tried to take them both to the floor. Fumbling for a little steadiness, it wasn’t until the world had stopped spinning and he was sure neither of them were going to fall that Cullen realized the precarious situation that little stumble had put them both in.
They could’ve been some starry-eyed couple on a ballroom floor, for their pose; Cullen's arm was hooked supportingly around Atticus' waist, the other hand cupped just at the base of his neck, the younger man hanging there beneath the Commander. They were both completely frozen, hardly daring to breathe. Cullen stared down at the younger man, his eyes wide, quite certain his face was bright red by now if the heat pooling in his cheeks was anything to judge by. And Atticus, for his part, didn't seem to be doing much better, for once completely silenced by the strange turn of events. His brows were practically at his hairline, and a rosy blush had taken over most of his face, in stark contrast to the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks and Maker's breath, when had he noticed those?
Swallowing, Cullen licked his lips, eyes flicking down to Atticus’ mouth and then back up to his eyes, well aware that the rogue had followed the movement, if the way his breath hitched and his throat bobbed were anything to go by. His leafy green eyes, normally bright with mirth, were a little glazed at the moment, his pupils blown wide. It would be so easy to lean down, to close the space between them and capture his mouth in a searing kiss. He’d thought about it before. He’d woken up hard more nights than he cared to count with Atticus’ name on his lips, the memories alone sending a jolt of heat through him, and he shuddered minutely, squeezing his eyes shut.
Maker, he’d thought about doing a lot of things with this man.
Fingers curled hesitantly into the curls at the nape of his neck, and his eyes flew open to see that Atticus hadn’t looked away or tried to untangle himself. He had his lower lip between his teeth, and was looking back and forth between Cullen, and something just past his shoulder. Brows furrowing, Cullen turned his head, his racing heart leaping into his throat when he realized exactly what it was the younger man was looking at with such intensity. Dangling from one of the ribbons pulled loose from his bookshelf was a very recognizable little plant, conveniently hanging right above their heads.
“Mistletoe,” Atticus croaked from below.
And just like that, the spell was broken.
Scrambling upright, Cullen pulled the Inquisitor up onto his feet before snatching his hands away as if he’d been burned. “I- I apologize I didn’t-“ Embarrassment and shame for the direction his thoughts had taken made it hard to focus on words, and he stumbled through a hasty apology before Atticus lifted a hand to quiet him. “It’s alright, Cullen.” He murmured, sounding very tired. “Thank you for… Er, making sure I didn’t fall.” Cullen didn’t miss the disappointment in his voice or the way his shoulders slumped as he made to turn for the door. And before he realized what he was doing, Cullen’s hand was around Atti’s wrist, gentle but firm.
“Wait.”
Atticus glanced down at their hands, before slowly looking back up at Cullen, confusion written across his features.
Cullen took a deep breath, letting go of the other man’s wrist when he was certain Atti wasn’t going to try and bolt for the door. He lifted his hand and rubbed at the back of his neck, letting out a soft sigh. “I love Satinalia,” he admitted quietly. “When I was a boy, it was my very favourite time of the year. Honnleath is a very small village; everyone knows everyone, and because of that it was… Special. The streets were always lined with-with decorations and banners. And every year, the townspeople would transform the square into a little market, selling hot cocoa and mulled wine. The traders would come in with all sorts of new wares. Trinkets, toys, that sort of thing. It was like..." He huffed a laugh. "Like magic, I suppose, ironic though that might sound. And as for my family… My mother was always in the kitchen baking, and while she was making gingersnaps and sugar cookies, my father would get all four of my siblings and me to help him decorate the house. I have… very fond memories of that time."
His whiskey coloured eyes had a faraway look about them, and his voice had gotten quieter, more somber. "It was so long ago now. And when I left for Templar training at thirteen, Satinalia was never quite the same. Mia… Mia always wrote to me, asked if I could come home, but there was always something more important for me to do, always something else that took precedence. And- And then Kinloch happened, and I couldn’t-“ He let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair, waving off Atticus when he stepped closer, looking troubled. “It's alright... I-I was transferred to Kirkwall not long after that, and now… It’s been years since I’ve been home. Years since I’ve seen any of my family. And I suppose… I suppose Satinalia just reminds me too much of everything I’ve lost, everything I've missed. It wasn’t anything to do with you, Atticus. I… I very much appreciate the decorations and… You’re right, my office could use a little cheer. I could use a little cheer. And I apologize if my behaviour suggested otherwise.”
For a moment, the office was quiet. But Atticus broke the silence by letting out a whoosh of breath, and lifting his hand to rub at the back of his neck.
"Well shit."
Cullen cracked a small smile, chuckling softly despite himself, and Atti flashed him a hesitant grin.
"Now I feel like a right arse." the redhead admitted, looking sheepish. "But Cullen, you know we could- we could make Satinalia special again. I know the Inquisition isn’t exactly the same as a real family but… I care very deeply for everyone here. For… For you." Atti's face was bright red at that point, but he soldiered on, looking determined. "We can make you some new memories. And I mean, if you like... You could always write to your sister? Perhaps invite your family for a visit? Skyhold is about as safe as anyplace and I know that they'd be welcome here. I'd make sure of it because, well... If they're important to you, then they're important to me."
Cullen was at a loss for words, a lump forming in his throat. “I…" He swallowed, blinking rapidly, and attempted to regain a little bit of composure. "I would like that, Inqui- er, Atticus. Very much so.”
Atticus coughed, ducking his head as if that could hide the blush that had taken over his face. “Yes, alright... Er... Well then!” he said, clapping his hands together and dispelling the awkwardness. “There’s still plenty of ribbon left. What say you and I liven this place up a bit?”
For the remainder of the afternoon, Cullen and Atticus worked together to spiff up Cullen's office, draping garland across almost every available surface, and hanging ribbons and sprigs of dragonthorn from the rafters (all without further ladder related incidents). And when all was said and done, they stood back to admire their work, Atticus with his hands on his hips and a triumphant smirk on his face. "What'd I tell you?" he crowed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Festive as fuck!"
Beside him, Cullen lifted a hand to his face to hide his grin. "Yes, very nice." he said with a laugh. "You have quite a way with words, Inquisitor."
Atticus snickered, waving a finger at the older man. "Well one of us ought to, Commander. Besides, it's charming, don't try to deny it."
Cullen blushed at that. "I won't" he murmured, lifting his gaze to take in Atti's surprised expression.
Taking a deep breath, Cullen took a step towards him before he could over think things, raising his hands to cup Atticus’ face, cradling his head gently between his palms and relishing the feel of that light stubble against his skin. “I lost my nerve earlier,” he murmured, brushing his thumb against the younger man’s temple and delighting in the shiver that ran through him as a result. “And the timing wasn't quite right. But I do believe I owe you a kiss.”
Atticus' eyes went wide. "D-do you now? I was, ah, under the impression that you... Didn't fancy men."
Cullen smiled. "Not ordinarily," he admitted. "But then... You're anything but ordinary."
Then he leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Atticus', thanking the Maker silently when the younger man didn't pull away, but rather pressed himself closer, gripping Cullen's fur mantle in his fists and returning the sentiment with enthusiasm. The kiss lasted far longer than either of them could have anticipated, the heat building between them rapidly and only the need for air pulling them apart, panting and breathless.
Atticus was flushed, his pupils blown wide once more and his eyes dancing. "That was a really corny line you know." he said hoarsely. "'Anything but ordinary'? Did you use that one on all the girls at the Chantry?"
Cullen chuckled warmly, pulling the slightly smaller man back in close and pressing a kiss to his brow. "Not all of them. Only the ones I really liked."
Atticus made a soft, pleased sound in response, leaning back in to press another chaste kiss to Cullen's lips before touching their foreheads together. Cullen wrapped his arms around Atti’s waist in return, and for a long moment, they simply stood there, breathing one another in.
“I’m a rubbish dance partner,” Cullen murmured eventually, opening his eyes and giving Atticus a fond look. “But… Would you care to accompany me to Josie’s ball?”
Atticus looped his arms around the Commander's neck and chuckled, the sound warming Cullen more than anything had in a very long time.
“Absolutely.”