A/N: No clue when this falls with the main story. Thank you for reading!

...-...

When Josephine had said they were going to a party at the beach, Finley had been baffled. Images of the Storm Coast came to mind instantly, and she'd wondered how they were supposed to call it a party if they were outdoors with massive, rolling waves crashing every few seconds.

And then there were all the rocks.

And, of course, the storms.

Everything she'd been told after that had just been more mindboggling as she tried to picture the Orlesians in their ridiculous getup, trouncing around on stony shores in those high heels of theirs.

Now, as she stared at the delicate tables placed so precisely on a deck that had been built near a rather calm beach with what looked to be absolutely gentle sands and shimmery little objects that glimmered as the dipping sun's rays gave them goodbye kisses, she couldn't help but feel a little…

Disappointed wasn't the word.

She was always disappointed with Orlesian affairs. There was so much…posturing and talking. It was like dealing with Tevinter spells. So complicated and convoluted when one could get the same result with a fraction of the syllables.

The truth was she'd rather liked the Storm Coast, rain and all, and so she'd been looking forward to seeing how such a party might play out.

They were practically sitting in a parlor for this little gathering, though it not having a ceiling was a vast improvement.

Still, the Orlesians talked too much for any of the birds to come to close, and Finley was to leave them alone, anyway.

It wouldn't do to have her appear 'witchy'.

If liking birds was all it took to be a witch…

"Maker, I think this night's finally ending."

Finley perked up, turning her head to find Cullen standing next to her and fiddling with his collar. He wore a black version of the Inquisition's uniform, with all the pageantry necessary for a man of his rank, and he looked absolutely miserable. The wind was enough that his carefully groomed hair was curling in wisps—which the Orlesians had absolutely adored, much to his chagrin.

As he unbuttoned the top few buttons on his collar and let out a relieved sigh, cracking his neck and then rubbing at the base of his skull, Finley leaned toward him. "Josephine said we're supposed to stay in dress."

"Josephine will have to forgive me," Cullen muttered, already moving to loosen his cuffs. "This…event was supposed to end hours ago."

"Josephine said that whenever an Orlesian gives you an ending time, that is merely a propriety that is often gone overlooked, as it would be unbecoming to invite people to stay out all night."

Cullen's gaze rolled slowly toward Finley as he finished with his cuffs and took in a slow breath. "I'll have to let her know you're listening so well these days."

Finley hesitated, eyeing him a moment, head tilted.

…-…

Cullen sighed as he surveilled the party again. Hardly any of the guests had left yet. They were all clustered around a few lamps as Varric entertained them with a reading of one of his books—he had to wonder if it was mere happenstance or if that had been done to give Finley a much-needed break from all the attention.

Josephine stood near the back of the crowd, talking quietly with one of the nobles who, if their posture was any indication, was too enraptured with whatever Varric was saying to care about Josephine's points.

As Josephine happened a glance their way, her eyes widened and then she gave him a rather pointed, almost angry look.

Even as Cullen's fingers moved to fix his cuff, he happened a glance to his side and found that he was standing by himself.

Forgetting about fixing his appearance so that the wandering eye wouldn't criticize the Inquisition, he turned, scanning their surroundings, a bubble of panic filling his chest.

It was squelched soon enough as he saw a rather familiar figure wandering near the waves, orange hair waving gently behind her as the dress Josephine had someone gotten her into billowed a bit behind her.

Giving the party one more glance, he slipped away from the deck and toward the shore, wishing he could yank off his boots to make it easier to walk on the sand. The Orlesians would love that…the Ferelden doglord wandering around barefoot.

Josephine would hang him.

Finley wandered ahead, slipping around an outcrop of rocks near the shore.

However, just as he was getting to the outcrop, he heard a loud, unceremonious splash, followed by a quiet hiss. Darting around the rocks, he intended to make sure she was alright, but instead found a tide pool waiting right around the corner. His boot slid on the slick rock ledge around it and he fell in with an unceremonious splash.

The sand was soft beneath his hands and knees, though the water was cold enough that it didn't count for much. However, the giggle that sounded near him banished at least some of his foul mood. Looking to the side, He saw Finley still sitting in the water, dress billowing out oddly around her as the water moved ever so gently.

She was soaked.

And so was he.

Glancing down, he frowned when he realized that almost all of his uniform was clinging to him, sopping wet.

Josephine was going to kill them.

As he stood up, frowning to find the sand stuck to his boots—Maker, there was already water in his boots—and sucking his feet in place, Finley hopped up as well, her dress a bit of a hindrance as she waded over to him.

When she was close enough, he leaned against her to free his boots, all the while trying to think of what he could say to Josephine and the Orlesians that would make this less of a disaster.

"I'll take that smile to mean you're well," he muttered, as he turned and walked as careful as he could back toward the rock ledge. His boots kept sinking into the wet sand, though he didn't stay still long enough for them to get stuck again.

"Healer, remember?"

He stopped himself before asking if she'd actually hurt herself. It was a routine that he'd like to get out of, as she always seemed puzzled by his concern.

"I was hoping for a moment or two alone with you," Finley offered when he didn't say anything. She picked at her skirt, frowning when it floated near the top of the water around her. "I had hoped it would go a bit differently."

Cullen paused at the rock ledge, one hand resting on it. It was still slippery. It would be wiser to just follow it around to the beach…but then they'd be seen, for sure. As he glanced the other way to see if there was somehow a way to sneak off—they'd figure something out to tell Josephine later—he found Finley standing at his side, hands resting on the rock ledge as well, though she was watching him.

Her brow pinched together when their gazes met, and she glanced away.

Without thinking, he reached out and ran his fingers across her bare shoulder and to her neck, drawing her carefully to him and resting his forehead against hers. He held her a moment, enjoying the way her arms slipped around him to hug him closer.

Then, just as he leaned his head down to claim her lips—they were already in a mess, so a few more minutes wouldn't hurt anything and they might as well enjoy them—a voice interrupted their quiet getaway.

"Commander!"

Cullen knew that damned voice. Knew it far better than he'd ever wanted to.

He turned slowly away from Finley, gaze flickering angrily as he watched the scout come into view, peeking around the corner and managing not to fall in after them.

"Scout Jim." Cullen's voice was far drier than he was.

"Lady Josephine—" The man stopped mid-sentence, staring down at the two of them, clearly at a loss for words.

As the scout stood there, fish-mouthing as he tried to think of something that wouldn't make matters worse, Finley slipped a little in the water, nearly falling to her side again.

Cullen caught her instinctively, though as he helped her back to his feet, he couldn't help but wonder what she was doing. Her balance was better than this.

"Commander Rutherford was trying to help me out of the water," Finley said, a little slowly, "but then I slipped, he lost his footing, and…"

"I'll…go ask Lady Josephine about some towels," the scout whispered, already turning away and leaving them, still in the water.

"You didn't need to lie."

"It was true enough," Finley offered, idly batting at her floating skirt. "I did fall in. And you would have come to help me out, if you hadn't fallen in, too."

"And how did you fall in?"

"There was a creature in the water in a little shell. Like a crab, but much more intricate. I wanted to see him better." Even as she spoke, Cullen caught her around her waist and hoisted her up so that she could sit on the ledge. She tried to stand up, only to nearly fall back on him. With a frown, she began ringing out her skirts where she was. "I've dealt with slick rocks before, but normally there's some sort of tree or something nearby to grab hold of."

Cullen nodded a moment, before catching her face in his hands and kissing her. When he moved to lean away, she chased him, arms sliding around his neck. Without thinking, he tugged her toward him, only to suck in a breath as the stand gave out under his boots and sent both of them tumbling back into the water.

When they came up, Finley was laughing again.

She reached out lightly and ran her fingers through his hair, and he could feel his curls bouncing free.

Even as he let out a sigh and tried to smooth it down—only to make his hair considerably worse—one of the Orlesian nobles, the Comtesse who was hosting their gathering, no less, came around on the sand close enough that she could peer in at them.

There was a muffled gasp and then a swiftly worded apology. "Inquisitor, if I had known you wanted to see the beach, I would have arranged a proper tour." She came to stand closer, holding her hands out to them.

Cullen used their predicament to guide Finley by the small of her back to where the woman could reach her and help her out of the water.

He followed after, feeling more than a little self-conscious with how both their clothes clung to them.

He tried to keep his gaze off Finley, as he couldn't help but let it wander down, and to pretend he didn't know how his own clothes looked.

"It is so noble of you, commander, to try to help," the Comtesse asserted, reading his embarrassment, but mistaking the cause. "Truly. I feel terrible. If you would like, stay the night and I will see to it that you get to go for a proper walk on a beach that is not so wild untamed as the ones in Ferelden."

He wasn't sure what else the ladies talked about as they headed back up the beach, instead imagining what it might be like to have Finley alone out here, tamed beach or not.