"Ow! Heyy, that hurts." Alistair cringed, shying away from the attention at the wound on his side.

"Maybe if you'd stop moving, it wouldn't." Cullen sighed, brow wrinkling just a touch. He latched his free hand onto his fellow warden's knee to keep him in place. Alistair snorted indignantly, still trying to wiggle away.

"Be careful." Alistair huffed, doing his best to pout at the other man. Much to his chagrin, it didn't help.

"If you don't stop, I'll let the witch do it." Cullen all but deadpanned the threat, his tone even and unwavering as he continued his work. After a few more minutes of cleaning up the wound, he released his hold on Alistair's leg so he could pull a clean bandage cloth from his pack to dress it.

Alistair's attention drifted across camp where Morrigan sat reading the grimoire she'd 'rescued' from the tower. His gaze narrowed. Until he felt a pinch on his arm. He yelped and snapped his attention back to Cullen. The sourness of his expression melted as he looked at his fellow warden, slowly being replaced by the happiness and joy he felt churn his stomach every time he looked at Cullen.

"That's better," Cullen murmured. He tied off the bandage and tucked in the ends, sitting back to admire his work.

Alistair's mouth twitched, a smirk threatening to form. "What's better?"

"You… uh…" Color began to race up Cullen's features, tinting his cheeks a rosy hue. He coughed and looked away. "I mean your side, th-the bandage."

"Riight," Alistair replied with a cheeky grin.