It was hard work loading and unloading the car, especially in the winter. Eleanor had backed up to the barn, the tires of the car leaving tracks in the snow, underneath which there was a path somewhere but which wouldn't show itself again until March. The soldiers helped, forming a sort of fire brigade to pass all of their dry goods into the renovated space, those on the end setting to work stocking the cupboards in the little kitchen area and filling the chest freezer. When the goods had been divested, Eleanor did a lap of the space, making sure every bed had clean, warm bedding and that none of the slats overheat were drafty or leaky - which they never were; Eleanor's father had done good work turning the old, rickety barn into livable space for the farm hands not all that long ago, and the maintenance Eleanor kept up with every summer made sure the structure remained in good condition. As a bonus, she now more than knew her way around a roof. But the soldiers insisted all was well, that they'd had much worse, and soon, Eleanor was in the kitchen, filling her own fridge with all the edibles and potables that she and Cullen had brought home.
She was just reaching up to close the last cabinet when she turned around and saw a box of hot cocoa mix on the table, somehow having escaped her notice until now. She'd thrown it in the cart without really thinking about it and Cullen, now in the dining room going over the latest reports from Skyhold, had unpacked most of the boxes and bags, and Eleanor had forgotten all about the drink mix until this moment.
Climbing up on a chair, Eleanor reached to open the cabinet above the sink, but as she lifted the box, she caught a scent of the chocolate powder as it shifted, and it made Eleanor pause.
She'd bought the mix on a whim, having always associated hot cocoa with the holidays, and after Cullen had gone all soft over the tree, she'd pulled the box off of an end cap and thrown it into the cart along with the industrial quantities of eggs, bread, and a million other things.
But now that it was here in her hands, now that she smelled that sweet smell, Eleanor stopped in place, one hand still reaching up to the cabinet, the other holding the box of chocolate. She looked down at it, at the blue packaging, and let the arm that was reaching up slowly drop, leaving the cupboard door open.
She rolled her lips as she slowly stepped back down to the floor, not taking her eyes off box. Eleanor let herself sit down in the chair, her back to the sink. Holding the box in both hands like a book, she let her head hang a bit as her vision misted over. She sniffed.
Cullen had had his head down over the giant map that had replaced the tablecloth on the dining room table for some months now, but he stopped and looked up and through the doorway, where he could see Eleanor sitting forlornly in a misplaced chair, hair falling free from her ponytail and around her eyes which hid whether or not she might be crying. Her posture gave him no reassurance that he was not.
He stood up and walked softly into the kitchen, lowering himself down to the level in which she sat in the chair, knees bent, balancing on tiptoe. He peered down at the box, then up at her.
"Did it say something to upset you?" he asked, tone sincere in spite of his joke.
Eleanor didn't look up, but her shoulders shuddered in a little laugh. "It told me I smell."
"You do smell," he answered.
With a louder chuckle, she elbowed him in the shoulder and he wobbled, reaching out and grabbing on to her arm to steady himself. She wiggled the limb back and forth, threatening to cause him to fall.
"You're awful," she said as he steadied himself, but Cullen only smiled, standing up to put an arm over her shoulders.
Eleanor raised up the box a bit and one hand and slapped it into the palm of the other, answering the question he hadn't needed to ask. "I dunno, just… we always used to drink hot cocoa this time of year, and…" She looked up at him with a sad smile, pressing the top of her head against his ribs.
"You and your father?"
Eleanor nodded. "And Mom, I guess, but I don't remember much."
He bent down and kissed her hair, and a silence passed between them.
"What about your parents?" she asked in a moment of realization.
"What about them?"
"You told me about your siblings, but not…" her voice trailed off as she watched his face darken. "I'm sorry," she said, looking away, knowing the implication of his expression without him having to speak.
"It's alright," he answered, and told her.