"We will need a tree for the birds to rest and nest in."

Cullen had almost drifted to sleep when he heard the declaration, and he slowly pushed himself upright, confused. Finley was staring at him expectantly. When he didn't respond, his mind still far too foggy to comprehend what was going on, her brow pinched together. "Am I supposed to keep going?"

Letting out a groan, Cullen forced himself to focus on her more, though he wished mostly that she hadn't moved so far from him under the blankets. Without thinking, he drew her closer, smiling at how easily she came to him and settled back against his side.

"There should be a chicken coup, too."

That made him stop before he could ask what was going on.

Earlier, he'd been discussing reports and the like with Finley and Cassandra when Ser Yorric had come in. Despite being a templar, Finley seemed to have accepted the man as a friend, and she no longer became to skittish when he was present.

Well, most of the time.

Today, Ser Yorric had asked them what their plans were for after all of this was over.

Seeing how spectacularly awful Finley had responded to his own, similar query a few weeks prior, Cullen had been ready to change the subject when Finley had beat him to speaking, asking, "For what purpose do you wish to know my future whereabouts?"

Cullen had run his hand down her back, reminding her that she wasn't alone as Ser Yorric had arched his eyebrows and then shrugged. "I don't know, just wondering. Cas and I were talking about getting a dog."

"You were talking about that," Cassandra had clarified, not looked up from the report she was reading.

"Well, you did say you wanted—"

Cassandra's cheeks had flushed as she darted over to her lover and clapped a hand over his mouth. Even as Finley and Cullen had watched, she'd dragged Yorric out into the hall to talk to him.

"What's that about then?" Finley had asked, looking up at him with idle curiosity.

Cullen wasn't completely sure, but he shrugged a shoulder as he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "People like to dream about what the future will hold."

"Like you can ever be sure," Finley muttered, gaze dropping back down to the report they'd been going over.

It was surprising how much that had stung, but he'd told himself to drop it, even as the words had come tumbling off his lips, "Some people think it's fun. To imagine what things might be like. It's goals to try for, things to want, a promise of a life together."

Finley had lowered her papers and looked up at him, mildly perplexed, when Cassandra had come back into the room, flustered, but pointedly avoiding whatever it was that had happened in the hall as they went back to work.

"I asked Varric about it," Finley said, drawing him from his thoughts of earlier, "and we're supposed to do this together. It's your turn."

Cullen squeezed her closer briefly, pressing a kiss into her hair. "I want a dog."

"You'll have to train him not to eat the chickens."

"I will," Cullen retorted, feigning hurt that she would think he wouldn't. "I grew up on a farm, you know. I know something about tending to animals."

Finley propped herself up so that she could look at him, nodding slowly as she accepted his answer. "So a tree, a chicken coup, and a dog. It's still your turn."

With a smile, he rolled them over, moving so that he could look her in the eyes more easily, with both of them on their sides. "A huge yard."

As she nodded in agreement, he leaned forward and kissed her, long and slow. "I love you. You know that, don't you?"

A quiet smile graced her lips as she chased his kiss arms slipping around him and tugging him closer. "I love you, too."