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Plush
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Cullen had almost missed it at first, the stout, overstuffed chair that had appeared in the far corner of his office out of nowhere. The longer he stared at it, trying to determine when, and how, it got there, Cullen also came to the conclusion that it was possibly the ugliest piece of furniture he had ever seen. It was wide enough in the seat that it could fit two people (if both occupants sat very still), and Cullen could tell from the way the once cheery green fabric had faded into a depressing color that rather reminded him of a healing bruise, that it was old. It had probably been found in one of the numerous abandoned rooms of Skyhold, but why in the Maker’s name it was in his office was beyond him.
One of the doors creaked open but Cullen didn’t turn immediately, knowing that it would be the Inquisitor because she was the only one who let herself in to his office without knocking. “Oh, you're… done early today,” Beau commented, and Cullen heard her come to a stop.
“Uh, yes,” Cullen replied as he turned to face her. She looked like she had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, with guilt twisted across her expression as she drew the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. In one hand Beau held a mug of something hot, tea most likely, and in the other she pressed a stack of papers to her chest.
“Am I to guess that you’re responsible for putting this in here, then?” he asked, gesturing to the offending piece of furniture.
“Well… yes,” Beau answered, and Cullen watched as her left foot came up off the ground to rub the back of her opposite leg. “I thought I’d be back before you… I hope you don’t mind, but I had it brought up here because we haven’t been able to spend a lot of time together since…”
Beau looked up and away from him as she trailed off, but there was the just the slightest dusting of delicate pink across the tops of her cheeks. Cullen smiled, though he felt the burn of redness across his face as ears as well. They hadn’t been able to spend much time together since their kiss on the battlements over a week ago, when Cullen had learned that not only did Beau return his feelings, but had for quite some time, and the only thing that had stopped her from saying something sooner was the fear of ruining their close friendship. All it had finally taken was a visit from a past Beau would have rather forgotten and a very near brush with death to put everything in perspective for both of them.
“Anyway,” Beau continued with a sigh and then her next words came out in a rush: “I just thought it’d be nice to at least be in the same room as we do paperwork. If you don’t mind, that is. I’ll try not to be a distraction. You can say no, of course… Maker’s ass, I shouldn’t have assumed –”
Cullen silenced her with a kiss, not hard or forceful, but just enough pressure that whatever Beau had been about ramble out next was muffled against his lips. His whole body relaxed in pleasure when he heard Beau make a content sound at the back of her throat as she melted into him, and Cullen knew that if her hands had not been full that they would have wound under his arms, and up his back. He made sure to kiss her thoroughly, to compensate for the week (and all the time before) he hadn’t, until he was certain that Beau had forgotten what she had been about to say.
He understood Beau’s nervousness, more than he wanted to admit because this was so very new for them both. They had consciously changed the nature of their relationship and if this didn’t work out for whatever reason, Cullen wasn’t certain that the friendship he had so cherished would survive. It wasn’t something that Cullen wanted to consider – losing Beau, not her genuine companionship and now, definitely not her open affections.
“It sounds perfect,” Cullen whispered when he pulled away, absurdly delighted when Beau leaned forward to follow him. “However,” he added, “this chair is hideous.”
Beau blinked at him, the haze clearing from her eyes as she refocused on the chair behind him. She opened her mouth once, twice, perhaps to refute his claim, but a moment later she admitted, “I know.” She stepped away from him, a small smile curling the corners of her mouth as she turned toward Cullen’s desk and set down both the mug of tea and the stack of papers. When she walked toward him once more, Beau had her hands stretched out before her, herding him back toward the plush chair. “Believe me, though, it more than makes up for how ugly it is,” Beau assured him as her hands spread across his chest with a gentle push.
Cullen let her push him backwards until he felt the chair bump into the back of his legs, and Cullen allowed her to ease him into the seat which gave a rather ominous creak, as the legs of the chair shifted under his weight. For a moment, he feared that the chair was so old that it was going to simply give out underneath him. But that fear slid away as he eased into the plush upholstery as it perfectly molded to his backside and shoulders. When a groan slipped through his lips, Cullen heard Beau chuckle as she kneed apart his legs and stepped between them. He gave her a glare that lacked any heat and a moment later Beau was settling herself in his lap, her hands making their away around his neck, and his hands came to their natural resting place, splayed along the curves of her hips.
“I told you,” Beau sang before she sealed her lips to his in a heated kiss.