She reached out in the darkness and her hand met something wet. And sticky.
At first the sensation didn't even register in her mind, she simply turned over in her bed. Until her other hand flopped in the same wet, sticky spot she had already dipped her hand in before. Frowning, she slowly resurfaced from a very deep sleep. What in the Maker's name…?
She fumbled with the candle next to her bed and after only three attempts she managed to light the wick, casting a flickering light on the room. Squinting against the light, she stared at her fingers. Her fingers that were now dripping with a sticky substance.
"What is this?" She mumbled, slightly alarmed. Was it blood? She peered intently. No, not blood. She sniffed her fingers. It smelled sweet. Sugary even.
She stuck out her tongue and carefully licked her index finger. Syrup?
Why was there syrup in her bed?
She yanked the blankets away and stared down on a wonderful breakfast tableau. A plate filled with pancakes, syrup drizzled over them. They were still warm and the syrup was slowly pooling on the sheets. If only her bed had been a breakfast table.
"They are all wrong."
Mellisa nearly jumped out of her skin from fright.
"Cole! Sweet Andraste! You almost gave me a heart attack!"
Cole looked down at her from his perch on the chandelier. How did that boy get up on those impossible places anyway?
"Do you need a healer? I did not intend to give you a heart attack."
She sighed, rubbing her temples with her fingers before remembering they were still covered in sticky syrup.
"No Cole. It's just a figure of speech." She grimaced as she looked at her soiled bedding and gestured at the mess.
"You could, however, try to explain to me why there's pancakes with syrup in my bed."
"Sleepy, chewy, sugary goodness. Sweet and warm. Good natured arguments around the breakfast table. Pulling Mia's hair, getting a kick against a knee. All forgotten between bites." Cole points at the pancakes with an accusing finger. "But those are not right! They are supposed to taste sweet and nice and these are… not." He finished lamely.
"Not serving them between the sheets might help." Mellisa mumbled, licking the syrup from her fingers.
"No, no, no. They are dry and salty and not good at all."
"Wait. Did you just say 'Mia?'" Mellisa looked from the pancakes to Cole. "Isn't that Cullen's sister? You made these for Cullen?"
"He was hurting a lot today. Head throbbing, insides aching. A little sip, just to ease the pain. Don't give less. Giving less is not an option." Cole shrugged. "The pancakes made him happy when he wasn't a Templar yet."
"So why are they in my bed and not on his plate?"
"I already told you." Cole sounded exasperated now. "These are all wrong. They taste wrong. And you know how to make them right. Your mother taught you. Flour, eggs, a pinch of salt. Laughing, handprints made of flour through the kitchen, eggshells all over the place."
"Oh Cole." Mellisa got out of bed, grabbed a robe and slipped it on. "You promised me you'd stay out of my head." She folded her arms in front of her chest and sighed. She liked Cole. She really did. But she really had to talk to the boy about all this rooting around other people's memories.
A look on her sticky bed made the decision for her.
"Very well. Come on down and I'll help you out."
"Thank you." And just like that, he'd disappeared.
She met up with Cole in the kitchen. It was a complete mess. It seemed like Cole had been trying to bake the pancakes himself. And the results were… shocking. To say the least. Flour was everywhere. Eggs got smashed and there was yolk smeared on every possible surface. A pitcher of syrup had tipped over, dripping syrup on the tiles of the floor.
"Maker, Cole. What did those poor eggs ever do to you?" Mellisa mumbled, gingerly stepping over some cracked eggs.
"Alright, first we'll get some of this mess cleaned up." She said, rolling up her sleeves and grabbing a broom. She shoved the broom in Cole's hands and took a dishcloth. Together they cleaned up the worst of the rubbish.
Not long after that the kitchen smelled of freshly baked pancakes. Cole had managed to whip up another pitcher of syrup. She decided against asking him where he found it.
"And that's how you make pancakes that do not taste 'wrong'." Mellisa explained as she slid the last one on top of the already pretty big pile of pancakes.
"Thank you. Thank you very much." Cole peered at the plate with interest. "Will you bring them to Cullen now?" He asked.
"I… what? Me?"
"I will clean the kitchen. Cook will be very angry if she finds out I've been here again. She remembers me easier now. I need to get new eggs. Flour. Or she will notice."
Mellisa chewed her lip pensively. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more behind all this. But eventually she gave in.
"Alright. I'll quietly bring him the stuff and you get the kitchen straightened out. It'll be a surprise for him. Right?"
And so it happened that Mellisa Trevelyan, Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste, was stalking the battlements of Skyhold in her robe. Barefoot. In the middle of the night. Carefully balancing a pitcher of syrup on top of a pile of pancakes.
"This is the last time I let Cole talk me into things like this." She grunted through gritted teeth, nudging the door to Cullen's chambers open with her hip.
His office was quiet. A single candle lit the room, making the shadows dance as a draft played with the flame. His desk was completely covered in paper. Letters, tactics, battleplans, orders, lists.
She glanced at them, smirking a bit when she saw another letter from Mia on top of the stack. The newest in a stream of scolding letters about how he never wrote.
"I can't believe I'm doing this." She muttered to herself, as she tried to make some space on the desk. It wouldn't do to get syrup over everything.
"You can't believe you're doing… what, exactly?" Came a voice from upstairs, nearly giving Mellisa the second heart attack of the evening.
"Cullen. I… err… was just stopping by to…" She glanced around, trying to think of an excuse while Cullen clambered down the stairs. The excuse would preferably be something more dignified than 'Cole thought you needed pancakes to make you happy.'
But the sight of Cullen wearing only his pants did not help her think.
Well. She was thinking plenty of things. But none of them useful in this situation.
She had to force herself to stop staring at him. "I couldn't sleep." Oh well. It could've been worse.
Cullen's gaze fell on the plate on his desk. When he looked back at her again, there was a mildly confused look in his eyes.
"You couldn't sleep so you made me breakfast?" He asked bemusedly. "Well. I say breakfast, but it's a bit early for that."
"Well. Not really. It's… complicated." She shrugged, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the fact that she was wearing a robe in her general's office.
As if he read her mind, she saw him look her up and down, eyes briefly lingering on her bare feet.
"Complicated. Very well, Inquisitor." The corner of his mouth twitched. He gestured at the pancakes. "Would you like to stay for a midnight snack then? I can't eat it all by myself anyway."
For a second she considered declining, the words already on her lips. Then she remembered her syrup soaked bedding and sticky hair.
"Yes. Sure. Why not." She flashed him a quick smile.
Cullen sauntered over to his desk, inspecting the plate. "Why not? For starters, it seems you forgot to bring along cutlery."
Thankfully, pancakes are easily turned into finger food.
When the plate was empty, Mellisa was almost nodding off to sleep.
"I think," She said in between yawns, "that it's time to go to bed."
"I agree." Cullen smiled and got up, opening the door for her.
"Inquisitor?" He asked, when she was outside the door.
Mellisa turned around, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
He stared at the corner of her mouth, and gently brought his hand up to her face.
For a moment she thought he was going to stroke her cheek, but instead he wiped at something sticky just in the corner of her mouth with his thumb.
Then he licked his thumb, slowly.
"Sweet." He mumbled, not taking his eyes off of her.
She knew she looked dumbstruck. Her mouth was slightly ajar and she was staring stupidly at him. But there wasn't a thing she could do about it. She was practically glued to the floor.
Did he even know how that just looked? Did he realize what it did to her?
"Goodnight Inquisitor." He said, breaking the moment. "And thank you. Sweet dreams."
"Uh. Yes. Goodnight Commander. Sweet dreams to you as well." She stammered.
As she walked away, he softly called after her.
"And Inquisitor? Please, thank Cole for me when you see him. I really needed some happiness."