A/N: Fluff.

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Metal clanged as the two swords struck one another. Dodging back, Cullen was already moving for another attack when he saw that his partner was yielding. Stopping himself before he could do any damage, he eyed Yorric Trevelyan, a single brow raised in silent question.

Both of them were shirtless and covered in sweat, having spent the last half hour sparring on the training grounds. Normally, Cullen trained in the mornings, but he'd needed to do inspections at the base camp in the valley, and hadn't had time to work out properly today.

Ser Yorric had been Maker sent when he came in and offered that they relieve some stress. While Cullen wasn't sure what the templar's problems were—so far as he knew, Yorric and Cassandra were as madly in love as ever, with no complaints from either, aside from Yorric's tendency to wear socks to bed—he had seemed to need to stretch his muscles just as much as Cullen.

Things had been going smoothly of late. There had been clear victories for the Inquisition against Corypheus and all in all, it felt like everything was fitting together, like they might actually be able to beat back an ancient Tevinter magister.

Just thinking of the monster made the pit in Cullen's stomach return. It had nestled itself there a few weeks ago when he'd realized something that should have been obvious from the beginning, something he'd always known but had never really thought of.

He was going to have to send Finley up against Corypheus someday. And with the way things were going, it would be sooner than later.

He'd be there with her, he'd sworn himself this much. He wouldn't let her fight that monster alone, but even so…

Even after seeing her fight demons at Adamant, and when they closed the Breach before Haven was ransacked, Cullen was still quietly terrified of what might happen.

Finley was capable, but it just took one misstep for even the most seasoned warrior to fall to an enemy's blade. And it had happened before. She'd gotten too caught up in healing those around her to realize someone was coming up behind her, only to get stabbed—or kidnapped—and Cullen had been wracking his brain for exercises and routines to help her with her awareness.

"Did you want to go one more time?" Cullen asked Ser Yorric, nodding to the man.

His sparring partner was already running a cool, wet rag over his dark muscles, cooling down after their fight.

"I think someone's waiting for you," Ser Yorric offered, pausing to give someone behind Cullen a small wave.

Turning, Cullen couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips when he saw her there, leaning against the fence that enclosed the sparring ring. Pausing to say good night to Yorric, who simply grinned at him and waved him off, Cullen headed over to the fence, settling against it when he was across from Finley.

She reached out and brushed her fingers against his temple, tucking back one of his loose curls. Her fingertips lingered against his skin, and he reached up and caught her hand, pulling it down so that he could press a kiss into her palm. "Was I supposed to meet you?"

"No," she replied, thumb stroking his cheek. "I'm supposed to be listening to one of Josephine's reports about new noble support."

"I shouldn't keep you then." Despite his words, he didn't let go of her hand.

"You could walk me there," she offered, blush creeping up her cheeks. "If you don't need to go back to your office."

"Let me get my shirt." Cullen grinned when her gaze wandered down, clearly appreciating his form. Finally letting go of her, hurried over to where he and Ser Yorric had abandoned their shirts earlier. Only his was left, Ser Yorric having already disappeared for the night. As he walked back, he noticed that Finley's gaze had never left him. He ducked under the fence, shirt already tugged into place, and Finley finally turned, matching his pace as they headed toward the main hall.

"Be careful," Cullen warned as they reached the steps. "Someone might think you're fond of me."

Her arm looped through his, her body pressing against him. "We can't have that."

"What would the good people think?"

When she pressed a kiss to his shoulder, he stopped. With complete and utter disregard to whoever might be watching, he pulled her flush against him and kissed her. Fingers twined in hair as lips molded to lips, and for a few breathless seconds, she was his and his alone.

It was over far too quickly.

She let out a small laugh as they drew apart.

"What is it?"

She rested her head against his chest, breathing him in and seeming to forget that they'd been on the way to see Josephine. Her arms curled around his waist. "It's just…silly, really."

"Tell me."

After a brief hesitation, she leaned back far enough that she could look up at him. She bit her lip a moment before finally saying, "I just…I never thought anywhere other than the Wilds would feel like home." She shrugged weakly, hiding her face against his chest again. "But it does. Here. With you."

For the first time that evening, Cullen forgot about Corypheus and demons and war plans. Instead, his world closed in on the two of them, everything beyond their little spot a mere haze. "You know what?" He offered, cupping her chin and pulling her face up to his. His lips ghosted across hers. "This does feel like home, doesn't it?"

In response, she tugged him down to kiss him harder.