Did someone ask for an almost kiss? No? have one anyway.
Rated T: some mild language.
Solas nearly jumped out of his skin when the door to the rotunda slammed open, causing him to slop a healthy amount of bright scarlet paint over both of his hands as well as down the front of his tunic. He didn't even have a chance to voice his ire with the vehement string of Elvhen curses that were dancing on the tip of his tongue before a petite feminine form launched itself into his arms at full speed.
"Solas!" Aili exulted loudly, startling Leliana's crows up in their rookery as she used the momentum from her previous exuberant barrage to twirl them both around in a clumsy wobbling half circle. "They're alive!"
"Who is alive, Lethallan?" Solas finally managed to ask when she released him from the crushing loop of her embrace in favor of taking him by both paint-covered hands and continuing to lead him around his study in a swinging, faltering, and occasionally tripping sort of dance as some kind of strange enthusiastic testament to her joy.
"My clan!" She chirped happily, smiling from ear to ear, her violet eyes sparkling with unbridled delight. "Cullen got the report this morning. They lost two hunters before our troops got there, and a few more were injured when they went to hunt down the so-called 'bandits', but everyone else is safe. They're safe! Safe safe safe!"
Aili let go of one of his hands and spun into him, laughing deliriously when she accidently ran into his chest. Solas grunted at the unexpected impact, steadying her as she stumbled a half step away.
"And such a victory can only be celebrated with dancing?" He surmised with a knowing grin, completely forgetting to let go of her hand. They were both an absolute ruin of crumpled clothing and red paint.
"Naturally!" Aili beamed, still chuckling to herself. "I kissed Cullen when he told me. You should have seen the look on his face!"
"Is that so?" Solas said quietly, something cool and closing sneaking across his features, his tone carefully neutral. He let go of her hand.
"Right on the cheek, in front of everyone!" Aili snorted, oblivious in her good humor. "I swear the man is secretly terrified of me. It must be all that Templar training that makes him extra jumpy around mages. Truly, he looked like he soiled his smallclothes."
Solas smiled and shook his head at her, the strange tightness in his chest easing slightly at her words.
"You should not tease him so, Lethallan," he chided her gently. "I doubt Fereldans are accustomed to such openly affectionate displays of gratitude."
"You think I offended him?" Aili asked, deflating somewhat as she began fretfully twisting her fingers together. "I only wanted to thank him!"
She bit her lip, her eyes flicking back towards the door she had come in through, her brows knitting with fresh anxiety.
Solas found his gaze drawn to her mouth, watching her worry her bottom lip until it was the color of a ripened raspberry. There were bits of pastry on one of her cheeks, along with what appeared to be a generous dollop of honey. Without thinking, he reached out to touch her face, swiping ineffectually at the remnants of what had likely been her breakfast with his thumb, smearing the line of her jaw with dabs of crimson paint instead.
Aili started at the sudden contact, but did not pull away. She blinked up at him, her amethyst eyes bright and questioning, her lips parting slightly. There were so many things suspended in the air between them, waiting with bated breath to be said aloud, yet she held her tongue. There was some strange magic in the silence hanging between them, and neither of them seemed daring enough to break it. For weeks now they had slowly but surely begun drawing nearer to each other, like two celestial bodies caught in a decaying orbit. Every not quite accidental touch, every private joke or whispered conference, every over-warm glance that lingered a bit too long to retain its innocence drew them nearer to what was looking more and more like an inevitable collision.
Solas felt her breath fan across his lips and inhaled sharply through his nose. When had he moved so close to her? He could smell the faint hint of honey on her breath. It would be so easy to remove those last few inches of space between them, to taste her sweetness and her joy, and to take part in them. He found himself bending towards her as naturally as a flower grows towards sunshine, yearning to catch her in his own fire, to ignite them both and burn away the mistakes of the past. He was distantly aware that kissing her would be an irredeemable blunder in the grand scheme of things, but her kindness was such a tempting succor to surrender to. A veritable feast hovering just beyond the reach of his famished heart.
The tips of their noses brushed one another lightly and he heard Aili's breath hitch in her throat. Her gaze lifted to meet his, and held him more securely than any spell she could have cast. Wide and slightly slanting, her eyes were the soft hazy violet of gathering twilight, glittering faintly in the guttering candlelight like a pair of gemstones. The way she looked at him was soulful and searching, and for the briefest moment, just the tiniest bit afraid. It was enough to save them both.
Solas pulled away, his smile edged with trace amounts of guilt as he swiped at her cheek one last time. Aili blinked like she was coming up for air after a long dive into unknown waters.
"Solas…what?" she began dazedly, trying to piece together what had almost happened.
"There was something on your face," he informed her, chuckling ruefully as he finally took note of the paint he had rubbed on her. "And I fear I have made it worse."
"O-oh," she stammered, wiping at her face with her sleeve to remove whatever mess might remain. She cringed when she took stock of the wide stripes of red paint covering both of them. "I see you were painting."
"Yes, I was just adding a few last touches when you arrived," Solas told her, glancing back at the fresco of Haven burning.
"It's beautiful," Aili said with a smile, coming to stand at his side to observe his work. She turned to him after a few moments of quiet appreciation, concern furrowing her brow once again. "You don't really think Cullen is mad at me, do you?"
"I imagine he is rather flustered, but I doubt you have truly offended him," Solas reassured her. "Indeed, I believe you may find there are few men who would not rejoice at such a manner of thanks. For instance, the Commander may well go beyond the call of duty in an attempt to garner another sign of such appreciation."
"Cullen...always does his best," Aili agreed uncertainly, sounding a trifle confused, "but you were right. Fereldans are more reserved with touching and things, and I should have been more sensitive to his personal boundaries. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."
Solas sighed, shaking his head and smiling at her hopelessness. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn she was willfully obtuse in regards to her own charms.
"So…what about you?" Aili asked.
"What about me?" Solas replied, arching a brow and tilting his head slightly to one side.
"You said most men would like getting a kiss as a thank you," she explained, the color rising in her face. "Would…would you like something like that? To be thanked that way, I mean."
"Hm, I supposed it would depend on what I was being thanked for," Solas answered, one corner of his mouth twitching upward in amusement. He gave her a meaningful glance, "And who was doing the thanking."
"I…I see," Aili told him, though it was perfectly evident by the crease in her brow that she did notsee at all. Solas had to bite back a laugh as he watched the implications of his words go sailing over her head. She was usually so perceptive when it came to reading people, the gift was prevalent in all matters save one it would seem. She was clearly just as ignorant of his growing regard for her as she was to Cullen's. It was a small mercy. He wasn't certain he had to power to refuse her if she pursued him in earnest.
He reached out and touched her hand lightly, curling his long fingers loosely around her slender palm, wishing for more than he could ask for. He may have been cringing internally at his selfishness, but the smile he gave her was tender and genuine.
"I am glad to hear that your family is safe, Lethallan," he said, his voice grown soft and sincere. She squeezed his hand and flashed him a dazzling smile.
"Ma serannas, Lethallin." She glanced back at his fresco. "Are you going to keep painting?"
"I still have a few details to add before it is completed," he informed her. "I need to finish it before the plaster dries."
"Can I stay and watch?" she asked eagerly. He chuckled at her enthusiasm, pleased at her interest.
"Of course."
"My my, what do we have here?" Dorian mused in a low voice, leaning over the banister of the library on the second floor of the rotunda, arching a brow and stroking his he goatee thoughtfully as he peered down at the two elves in the study below. He had heard Aili's earlier excitement, but there was nothing particularly strange about the Dalish woman bouncing off the walls when she was happy. He had been far more intrigued by the sudden drop into hushed tones that had come a few minutes later, and the silence that had followed. And here they were: the strangest pair of turtle doves he'd ever laid eyes upon, or at least they would be, if one of them could be prevailed upon to return the other's affections.
"Wot?" Sera asked thickly through a mouthful of blueberry tart, taking a break from her task of cramming rude drawings into all of the Inquisition's dullest looking tomes in favor of joining the Tevinter mage at the railing. She shot him a puzzled frown when she saw what he was looking at, half her dessert still in one hand, oozing deep purple juices through her fingers. "So? S'just Aili and Solas. Probably talking 'bout boring elfy shite, as usual."
"Is that all you see?" Dorian asked with a knowing grin as Aili scooched her chair closer to where Solas was painting, leaning towards him as much as she could without disturbing his work. Solas took note of her proximity, pausing long enough to bend down and whisper something in her ear, making her laugh.
"Elfie's got it bad for the Inquisitor, yeah?" Sera scoffed, "So what else is new? Cullen's got more hero-y…ness. And hair. He'll win her over, you watch. Sweep her off her feet all proper-like."
"I admit, the Commander is rather fetching, in a rough backwater kind of way," Dorian agreed, "but I'm afraid Aili would have to stop making doe-eyes at our Fade expert for longer than two minutes in order to actually notice the poor man."
Sera blew a disgusted raspberry, her face scrunching up in obvious distaste, "There's no way, Aili'd be into that dusty old fart, she's too much fun."
"Stranger things have happened," the Altus replied with a laugh. "I think you've mistaken Solas' interest though. It seems more likely that he is aware of her interest and wants to avoid hurting her feelings. He could certainly spare us all this awkward posturing and just tell her though, the Inquisitor isn't exactly adept at subtlety."
"For someone so smart, you sure are dumb sometimes, yeah?" Sera laughed, shaking her head. She gestured down at the first floor with the dripping remnants of her blueberry tart, drawing attention to Solas as he moved past the Inquisitor to get something off his desk, casually placing a hand on Aili's shoulder in passing, breaking her gaze from his fresco long enough to flash him a smile. "He touches her, yeah? Like, all the bloody time. When she's angry. When she's hurt. When he won't shut up about the stupid Fade. And sometimes for no reason at all, just 'cause he wants to. There's only one reason someone who's laced up as tight as him does that sort of thing, and it isn't to let her down easy, yeah? But Aili's like that with everyone, grabby hands and huggy arms, always up in your business. It doesn't mean the same when she does it."
"That is…remarkably astute of you," Dorian admitted, sounding impressed.
"Who's got arse toots?" Sera asked, scowling at him in suspicion.
"Astute. It means you're observant," Dorian sniggered. "I suppose it's just hard to imagine Solas being interested in anyone. And the Inquisitor seems a bit…young for him."
"Right?" Sera snorted, "Don't even want to think about him trying to kiss someone. There's only one part of him that knows how to pucker, yeah? And it isn't his mouth." She gave a rippling peal of laughter at her own wit. Dorian groaned.
"Ma vhenan ghilana," came a soft voice from Dorian's right as Cole materialized from seemingly nowhere, sitting precariously on the railing, swinging his long legs back and forth. Sera gave a strangled yelp of alarm, instantly backing away from the spirit boy.
"Bloody creepy thing!" she sputtered crossly. "I hate it when it does that."
"What were you saying, Cole?" Dorian asked, turning his attention to their news companion. "That sounded like something Elvhen."
"Eyes bright and brimming and so beautiful. An old song blossoming into something new, because you make it new, you make it real. Warm summer light sifting through leaves, blinding and hopeful, tumbling and soft. Like rain making ripples in a quiet pond and the smell of spring. Falling, feeling, faltering faith. Why did I find you here?"
"And those are…the Inquisitor's thoughts?" Dorian guessed, basing his estimation of his own hunch.
"Yes?" Cole said, sounding a bit confused, as though it should be obvious.
"Ha!" Dorian crowed.
"Piss!" Sera groused, her face souring. She turned her gaze back to the elves on the first floor and found that Aili was smiling broadly, leaning much closer to Solas than was required for a friendly chat. The rogue made a noise of supreme disgust and disappointment at her friend's poor taste, hurling the remaining half of her blueberry tart down at the almost-couple.
There came a string of fervent cursing followed closely by the sound of Aili's laughter echoing off the chamber walls. Sera stayed just long enough to peer over the railing and take in the sight of Solas' bald head covered in purple juice and bits of pastry. She turned her head to Dorian, mischief burning in her eyes and a victorious grin pulling at her full lips.
"You did it!" She exclaimed, running up towards the door that lead back to the main hall from the library, laughing raucously the whole way.
"Who did that?" Solas fumed from below, making Dorian decide it was high time he made his own hasty exit, keeping far from the balcony as he edged towards the door in an attempt to avoid being seen.
"Come on," Aili said, still laughing as she took the older elf by the elbow and tugged him towards the door to the great hall on their level. "We should both probably get cleaned up."
Solas' expression softened as he allowed himself be led away, leaving no one in the rotunda except Leiana's crows and the strange pale boy still perched up on the railing of the second floor.
"It was both of you," Cole said to no one in particular, smiling faintly at the door the two elves had just left from, clicking his heels against the wooden beams of the balustrade. "I'm so afraid, but I want this; I want you. Despite everything. When did you begin to feel like home? Emma lath…aneth ara."