No plot, just domesticity fluff. Cullen/Trevelyan
"It's late," Cullen said, regret coloring his words. "I should let you go."
Elanor Trevelyan blinked, glancing at the candles. They had been new when lit that evening, but now they were half gone, wax spilling down their sides in mute testimony.
"You're right," she said, nose wrinkling. "I have to go to Orlais tomorrow and it won't do to fall asleep while meeting with Viscount Whatshisface." She stood, gathering the dinner dishes that had started out their evening. It was hard to snatch a lot of time with Cullen. Ever since that lovely kiss on the battlements, she'd felt that every moment with him was precious. Unfortunately, such moments were rare. Between her missions that often took her away for weeks at a time and his duties as Commander of the Inquisition armies, evenings like this one—where they could just sit and talk and enjoy the sheer luxury of doing nothing—were uncommon.
Elanor stacked the dishes on the tray the servant had brought earlier and made for the door. "Well," she said, a bit shyly. "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow morning before we leave?"
"Are you taking those to the kitchen yourself?" He gestured at the dishes.
She nodded. "It's too late to wake the staff up, and I know Cook prides herself on a clean kitchen before bed. It's no trouble. I used to wash dishes all the time at home."
"I'll come with you," he said, smiling, and she smiled back because her mouth couldn't do anything else when he looked at her like that. They walked out his office, down the stairs, and across the courtyard, not speaking, but somehow not needing to. They'd been friends, after all, before they were... whatever they were now. It was nice, Elanor thought, glancing up at him. Strong and silent. Protecting and proud... Cole's enigmatic words passed through her mind and she couldn't fight the joyful smile that curved her mouth.
"What did you mean, earlier, when you said you're used to washing dishes?" Cullen asked as Elanor pushed open the kitchen door with her foot.
"I was a lay sister in the Chantry," she reminded him. "Labor in service to someone else is a tenant of Chantry belief. I dare say you've washed a few odd dishes in your time, Ser Former Templar?"
His mouth mirrored her grin as he lit the lamps in the kitchen to give them more light. "A few, yes."
A large copper tub that Cook used to wash stood in the corner. It was a modern marvel, with a small hole underneath it in the floor that ran outside into a gutter. A hole in the tub-covered by a rubber stopper- let Cook fill and empty as many times as she wanted without too much manual labor. And, Elanor touched the magical glyph on the side-it also had hot water without endless waiting for the fire to heat it up.
Cullen used another modern marvel in the kitchen to start filling the tub-a chute from the rain barrel on the roof collected water and then at a gentle tug, poured that water straight into the tub. It filled within minutes and soon they were both elbows deep into the magically warmed water, rags in hand and chuckling in embarrassment whenever they bumped elbows or foreheads. The tub really wasn't big enough for two people, but they did it anyway.
"Your technique is astonishing, ser," Elanor said, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing. "Where did you learn such graceful scrubbing?"
"Why, my lady, only the finest kitchens the Templar Order has to offer. I can scrub, rinse, and stack better than anyone in Ferelden."
They both laughed and since it was only a few dishes, they were soon done. Elanor stacked the pewter dishes in the cuboards and dried her hands on her skirt.
"Well," she said, fiinding again that the awkward goodbye would be the hardest part. "I guess this is good night again." She reached up tiptoes before he could back away and before she lost her courage, and brushed her lips against his. A quick, warm kiss was all it was, but she could still hear his intake of breath and feel the pressure of his hands at the small of her back, then gone the instant she attempted to pull away.
"Good night, my lady," Cullen said, inclining his head.
"Cullen," she said, biting her lip, as he turned toward the door.
"Yes?"
"Can you... would you call me Elanor?"
His eyes crinkled at the corners and she felt heat rush into her cheeks, somehow knowing that if she was within reach, he would grab her up and kiss her again. "Elanor."
