All Of It
Alistair
Apples. Just a hint of magic. His name, so soft he almost doesn't hear it.
And suddenly, he knows. He knows what every extra little touch when healing him, every blush, every smile, was for, and he tries with all he has to show that it was returned. All of it.
He still has the taste of her kiss on his lips when he sits back and looks at her, hands resting on her shoulders. "Well, that was... a surprise," he remarks quietly, even now slightly dumbstruck.
There's a hint of colour in her cheeks, and she looks away, almost as if she's ashamed of what she's just done... but why would she ever be ashamed of something like that? She asks, equally quietly, "Was... was that all right? I probably shouldn't have, but I..."
He raises a hand to absentmindedly stroke her cheek, musing teasingly, "Nope. Absolutely awful. Hated every second of it." At her silence, he adds, "What do you think?"
She mumbles something, and he catches the words "very enthusiastic", before she finally meets his eye with a smile he's never seen before: It's half-bashful, but it's also almost... impish.
It looks good on her.
Maker, he realizes, he's a lucky man.
It's only at her small laugh that he knows he's said the thought aloud, and releases her, embarrassment finally catching up to him. She grins at him, eyes sparkling, and takes a sip of tea; putting it down, she picks up the rose again, saying, "You're one to talk. How do you think I feel?"
The... the same? He's astonished. Something occurs to him, and he observes, "Hey... think you'll be too distracted to spar tomorrow?"
"Oh no," she says casually. "I'm quite prepared to lose."
He wonders briefly what she means, but is distracted by her soft, "Thank you." He has no idea what to do next, his mind still busy working up the courage to give a kiss of his own, so they simply sit together, watching the fire, tea going cold beside them.
He says nothing when he feels her hand gently wrap around his own, but his smile grows just a little wider.