Work Text:
The first time it happens, she doesn’t even think about it. Doesn’t have to, it just happens, like it’s the most right thing in the world.
It’s morning, but it’s early, the light that comes through the windows just barely tinged all pink and soft. She’s watching Leliana dozing, warm and peaceful, limbs flung over Sera haphazardly—a thigh laid over her hip and nestled between her own, an arm across her middle, a hand resting against her breast, the other curled against her upper arm where Leliana’s cheek rests. It makes her smile. It always makes her smile. Makes her feel important, when other people might just feel squished. Feels safe, too. Makes her chest ache, kind of, in that way that she does—a little sad, almost, but really sweet, soft feeling.
She touches Leliana’s hair, brushes it back from her face, and it makes Leliana’s nose wrinkle, makes her nuzzle closer against Sera with a disgruntled little sound. It’s one of the more adorable things Sera has witnessed, and she giggles, low and quiet, feels it resonate in her belly. Her fingers trace against the soft hairs at the nape of Leliana’s neck, content, happy.
“I love you.” She breathes the words, a whisper that she doesn’t really consider, doesn’t really comprehend until she hears it aloud, out in the cool morning air. For a second she freezes, but Leliana is still asleep, her breath warm against her skin, her limbs still heavy and relaxed. Sera relaxes too, draws her hand down Leliana’s back and squeezes her closer, whispers again. “That’s our secret for now, yeah?”
The second time, she’s too shy to really say anything, but feels too much to say nothing at all. She’s leaving, again, off to some other corner of Thedas, only this time she’s leaving her girl. This time Leliana says goodbye out in the courtyard, out in front of everybody, not behind closed doors. It’s not that she was ever shy about affection, either, but Sera was still wary, still unsure of what it might mean if they were seen together. But now, Sera feels proud, feels smitten, feels so much bundled all warm in her chest as she presses against her, brings her arms tight around her.
Leliana hugs like she means it, did even before they started all this, even before Sera ever thought about the possibility of it. Except now it’s almost too much, what it means to be in her arms like this, to feel the way she murmurs against Sera’s hair, for only her to hear: please be careful. Says it all simple, but Sera can hear everything in those few words, all the times she has whispered je t’adore like a hymn—it’s like I adore you, she says, only better, like translating makes it clumsy, makes it not the same—and underneath that, she hears all the worry that she keeps close, won’t let anyone else see.
She can only nod in response, press her face close against the leather of Leliana’s collar, feel the way the ends of her hair tickle against her skin. She bites her lip; the sting of it grounds her, and she sucks in a deep breath—all she can smell is her, and she wants to keep that, remember it for those long nights on the road. For a second she holds her breath, and when she lets go she whispers it against the leather, too quiet to be heard. “I love you.”
Later, after they part, she sees Cassandra talking to Leliana, sees the way she lays her hand against her shoulder all gentle. She doesn’t need someone watching her back, knows damn well how to take care of herself after this long. But Cassandra assures her that it is for Leliana’s sake that she says so, and for that, she is grateful.
By now, she’s restless, considering it as she doodles at camp, before she falls asleep each night, writing it into letters only to throw them out later. Dorian teases her for being moody, prods at her like a little kid while they travel, asks if she’s jealous that the cute blonde in the last town flirted with him instead of her. She’s too distracted to think of a good comeback, but later, once they set up camp, she thinks, Cassandra’s the one who was making eyes at her, and laughs.
She throws another balled up sheet of paper at the fire, takes a drink instead. The clear liquor is harsh, makes her cough, but it’s warm in her belly.
“You’re wasting a lot of paper, you know.” Dorian is the only one still up, and he moves closer once Sera stops writing, gets out of her own head for a minute.
She just shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t know how to say it right anyway.”
“Say what?” He clears his throat, feigns a haughty tone. “Dearest Cassandra, I have long dreamed of your touch–”
She smacks his arm, interrupts him with a scoff. “Shut it, you tit.” She takes another drink, winces as it goes down, then leans back, stares across the fire. “It’s Leliana.”
“Yes, she’s quite the catch, but that’s hardly something to be in a mood about.”
She shakes her head, lets out a heavy sigh. “I love her.”
Dorian laughs, short and abrupt. “I know that. It’s rather obvious. Don’t you think you should be telling her–” Her glare finally catches him, and he stops, face lighting up with recognition. His eyes soften, and before she knows it he’s sat right next to her, arm around her shoulder like he understands.
He smells like booze and wood smoke and those weird oils he puts in his hair, but she doesn’t mind. He lifts his drink then, nodding to her and the bottle in her hand. “Cheers, then?”
Then, when she tells her, really tells her, it’s not how she imagined. And somehow, that’s just perfect.
The afternoon is warm, just right, so she steals Leliana away from the rookery, tells her she needs a break, brings lunch. They lounge in the sun afterwards while Leliana reads to her, something Orlesian, because Sera wants to learn. For her. She’s supposed to be watching the words, but she gets distracted, watches Leliana instead, the movement of her lips as she speaks, the way the sun catches her hair, bright and hot.
“Ma belle…”
She knows she’s been caught, then, knows that’s not in the book, and looks up to find Leliana watching her. She smiles, a little sheepish, but Leliana isn’t upset.
“Do you know ‘je t’aime’?” Leliana asks.
“Mm, no. What’s that?”
“I love you.” Leliana says it like she means it, not like a definition. Looks at her like she means it too, and there’s a coyness to the little quirk of her smile, to the way she folds the book shut, leans closer. “My hearing is not so bad as you think, you know. I was waiting for you to tell me again, but you’ve been quiet, so…”
Sera can barely think with the way her heart thuds in her ears—this whole time, Leliana knew—it makes her feel hot, flushed, happy. She flashes a grin, finally, when she manages a breath. “Yeah? I–I do. I love you.”
“Yes, ma chérie.” Leliana leans closer still, and her lips brush against Sera’s, her words melt against the warmth of her mouth. “I love you too.”