#They're both old people at heart and enjoy crosswords what can I say

[greypetrel]

Oh oh oh PROMPTS?? Cullen/Aisling + is this a date? 👀

Eheheh. EHEHEHEHEHEH.

You hit something I already planned, thank you. uwu DadWolf AU and that’s it, and... It's long, sorry about it.

(a premise: it’s kind of canon-divergent, in a modern setting, but I took Corypheshit out of the games because my fic my rules. Inquisition is a secret organization, trying to fight Venatori.)

Tis the prompt list (ask something else if you want!)

Ride ‘round Picking Up Clues (🎶)

is this a date?

The moment Aisling stepped in the car, she instantly realized she made a mistake. One of those you can’t salvage, you just have to turn everything off and start your experiment again, from the start. She’s in one of them, but she also can’t admit the failure without uncovering herself and throwing in the gutter the whole research.

So, she just sat there, hands clutching close her trench -luckily at least she wore the long one, frozen on the passenger seat in Cullen’s car – an old, probably second or third hand station wagon that was still going out of good will and good hopes. The radio still had tapes, she noticed absent-mindedly, trying desperately to grasp at something, anything, to find an excuse to get out of the car without making him suspect anything. But there was nothing. Just Cullen, very casually dressed with a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt she was sure she saw him wearing in high school over a white shirt. Looking at her with a question on his face.

“Is everything all right?” He asked, worried.

“Uh… Yes. Yes, sure, But…” She was sure that if the student board could see and hear her now, they would have retired all her degrees and kicked her out of the university. And she would have agreed with them. “…Ehm, I think I forgot something at home, yes. It’s… I forgot tissues and-”

“Oh, that’s fine. Here.”

Cullen, damned, always ready Cullen, snaked an arm in front of her, opening the compartment -a very messy compartment you can only find in a car that has seen too many miles- and fishing out a new, perfectly fine pack of tissues he was ready to offer her.

“There, take it.”

“N-No, thank you but-” Think, Aisling, think. You’re paid to think on much more complex problems than this. Problems that need math formulas to be solved. “… I can’t, it’s too much bother, I… I’ll be right back, it’ll only take five minutes.”

Cullen groaned, rolling his eyes up as he let the pack fall in her lap and got back to his seat.

“I won’t die because I gave you one pack of tissues, Lavellan. If you don’t want to come with me that’s fine, just tell me.”

She glomped. She did want to spend more time with him, that was the alpha and the omega of her current predicament, but…

In the choice to admit that she tragically misread the situation and just go with the flow and hope he will fail to notice everything, she decided to try her luck.

“N-No, ok… Let’s go.”

“Ok. Seatbelt on, please.”

And as she shifted on the seat and moved to pull the damned seatbelt with just one hand -the other had to keep the coat closed-, earning another look full of doubts that lasted blissfully just a moment, he started the engine and off they went.

Off they went, to something that really wasn’t a date, and really wouldn’t have required the two hours she took to dress up and choose what to wear and pester Sera and Dorian for advices. Surely it wouldn’t have required high heels, which she cursed silently as what must be the slowest cashier in the whole Ferelden checked the snacks she chose with the quickness of a sloth under a sleeping spell.

She shifted from a foot to the other, batting her fingers on the counter, as her eyes scanned back and forth the little shop, looking for something to wear that really wasn’t what she was right now. But of course, Cullen had chosen the smallest shop around, one which sold strictly food and beverages, and a small selection of newspapers and magazines. Thankfully, he hadn’t made many questions or protested when she insisted in going in on her own.

“Going somewhere fancy, ain’t ya, lass?” The old woman at the cash asked her, not impressed.

“What?”

“That’s a deep neckline if I ever saw one.” She nodded towards her chest.

Aisling grumbled, closing the trench again. “No. Actually, I’m not. Don’t you have… Shirts? Anything to wear?”

“Just the trashcan bags, darling, aisle 4.”

Well, that would surely have been more noticeable. How didn’t Cullen notice that she was wearing heels was beyond her.

“D’you want the bags, lass?” The old woman asked.

“… No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

“As you wish. Don’t need to justify yourself with me tho, yeah? That’ll be 23, darling.”

“Let’s make it 25. I don’t?” Aisling asked, not sure about that, handling her 25 and fishing a crossword magazine from an exposer, launching it on the counter.

“You don’t, lass, worry not. We’ve all been young, once. Say hi to Varric for me, will ya?”

Aisling hated this town. Hated being back there where everyone knew her and who her parents were, and talked. It had been wonderful in Minrathous: freedom, lots of opportunities, people not looking at you in the face. She went barefoot for two years with none the wiser, around town. She slipped everything in a tote bag, grabbed the box of donuts from below, and assured the lady -she didn’t know her name- she would have said hello and bidding her good night.

“Mind protections, will ya!”

The granny shouted at her back, as she opened the door. The bell on top wasn’t enough to cover it. She stopped in front of the door, stopping as she felt her cellphone vibrate in her pocket. A good excuse to get back in a calmer attitude, but for now…

Dorian. [ Sooo… Did his jaw already fell, you slut? 😏 How’s it going?? ]

Aisling. [ Get your head out of the gutter. It’s not a date. ]

Dorian. [ What? Friday evening, just the two of you, explicitly told you you would have been alone, the winky face… How’s it not a date? You’re misreading it. ]

Aisling. [ I’m not. He’s wearing the same old shirt from high school and I just bought donuts and energy drinks and crosswords, and it’s Inquisition shit. Not a date. 🙈 ]

Dorian. [ Well, shit. Want me to call you and fake an emergency? ]

Aisling. [ Nah, thanks. I’ll manage. Somehow. ]

Dorian. [ Offer stands if you need. Write “Planck constant” and I’ll be on my way. ]

Aisling. [ Love you too 💚 ]

She slipped her cellphone back in the pocket and walked back to his car, sighing loudly, buttoning the trench for good. Thankfully she had worn a long coat. A small mercy to save her from the total embarrassment of, apparently, having showed up to what was a stakeout in a mini dress with yes, a deep neckline showing off too much skin -not that there was much else than skin- and high heeled pumps, made up and with hair softly curled.

But ok, if she had so tragically misread the situation, and indeed all they had recovered in the last year was friendship, she would take it. She just had to survive the night and convince him that she was cold and wouldn’t take the coat off because of that.

She schooled herself, took a deep breath and opened the car door, slipping right back in.

“Larder stocked, Captain, the raid was successful and the loot plentiful. Ready to sail!”

She chirped in a mock salute, handling him the box as she turned to slip the bag between the front seats on the back one, minding not to shake it too much. Cullen hummed in affirmation, opening the lid to examine the content.

“… You bought donuts? Seriously?”

“Of course. You still like them, do you?”

“I do, but… donuts? On a stakeout?”

“Of course, it’s a classic! It’s not a stakeout without donuts, I care for your career in this Inquisition thing you see!”

She pouted straightening her back and fixing her coat, before slipping the seatbelt on again. Cullen chuckled, shaking his head and turning to leave the box on the backseat. He stopped to look at her with a frown. Not that she noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Cullen, I know that face. Spit it out.” She prodded.

“I… Ah, it’s – well. It’s stupid, don’t mind it.”

He shook his head and turned back, turning the key and starting the car - took three attempts. She hummed, crossing her arms on her chest and not continuing the topic as he drove out of the parking lot and back into the streets. It was evening and there were few people around, just the streetlights stopping their track.

“I know it sounds stupid but-“ He kept on, huffing through his nose.

“Come on. I got donuts on a stakeout. And crosswords. Can’t be stupider.”

He smiled, just turning his eyes at her for a moment, concentrated on the road. “I… Did you do something?”

“I do a lot of things, be more specific?”

“You... Maker it must sound so stupid, but: you kind of looked taller.”

A pause. A pause that was full of fresh fear for Aisling, that Cullen of course misinterpreted.

“I- I don’t mean to imply that- Ah, I’m not saying you’re – Maker’s Breath.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. Loud, pulling her head behind her. Time has passed, but he still fumbled in the same, exact way. And turning to look at him, still blushed in embarrassment as well.

“I-I’m sorry but… Cul, I am short. It’s  not a secret anymore and I’m not 15 and self conscious since a while.”

“Well, I feel like I am, right now.”

He grumbled, and she laughed again at that.

Maybe the evening wasn’t so terrible.

Stakeouts, it turned out, were extremely boring. No wonder he had asked her to come with him and told her to buy food and drink.

In the end, they ate the donuts, all of them, and were digging through one bag of crisps, sipping their drinks. Cullen looked at the house that one of Leliana’s contacts suspected housed some Venatori agent, and Aisling had the crosswords on her thighs, slowly filling one after the other and asking clues aloud. The topic of her supposed enhanced height hadn’t come back - she slipped out of her shoes right after and kicked them under the seat, out of Cullen’s view. It was terribly warm inside the car, the late April evening milder than expected. Cullen slipped out of his flannel, but Aisling kept on refusing to take off her coat. She tied her hair back, tho, and tried her best to ignore she was sweating.

“13 across: the biggest one is in Nevarra.”

“Necropolis.”

“Yup, then Florian is wrong.”

“What was the question for Florian?”

“Mad Emperor of Orlais.”

He turned to look at her, lowering the binocular with his nose scrunched.

“What?”

“I forgot how much of a sucker you were at history.”

“Hey!”

“It’s Reville, I told you he was Florian’s father.”

“Yes, and you went on and I got confused.”

“You have a fucking PhD in Physics and Applied Magic, I’d guess you could follow some historical anectodes.”

“I do, and I’m not mocking you because you wouldn’t follow me if I explained you Sabine’s reverberation equation.”

“An anecdote is ten time easier!”

“It is if you’re interested!”

They bickered for some times still, laughing all the while. Falling back into old rhythm and habits had been easier than they both would have thought, all in all. With some due changes, of course, but after a first period of careful approaching, it was as if they never left. Most of the time, at least. Right now, time passed easily, Aisling rolled the window down a little and yawned, passing the crosswords on as she lowered the back of her seat and mindlessly, drowsy after hours sitting there doing nothing, raised her legs to prop her feet on the dashboard. Not thinking, sleepy and relaxed, that doing so her trench slipped up on her thighs and revealed that there was, indeed, too much skin for propriety, the chiffon of her dress slipping up even quicker.

“Ash.”

“Mh?”

“Aren’t you- Ah. I mean.” He cleared his throat, somewhat nervously. “You forgot your trousers?”

All drowsiness left her suddenly and abruptly, she opened both eyes, slipped her feet down and dragged the coat back down, embarrassed, poignantly turning her head towards the window.

“Yes.”

She replied, hastily, desperately hoping she was feeling hot because of the damn coat, not because she was blushing to her ears.

“Ash.”

“What was the last definition you asked? I don’t think I heard it.”

“Ash, please, just-”

“Because we miss so little and it would be a pity just to leave that puzzle halfway completed, right.”

“Ash. Stop changing the subject. Please.”

He sighed. She didn’t answer, collecting words and carefully placing them in a way that would have been best, hopefully, to save her pride and not put him ill at ease. He was working, after all, even if the night was as quiet as it could be expected from a residential lane such as they were in, little rowhouses one after the other slowly switching their lights off as the hour grew late.

“… I misread the situation and it was totally my fault, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing at all. It’s ok, I don’t mind. Just… I’ll keep my coat on.”

“What did you misread this situation for? A stakeout outside a possible Venatori agent’s house, you can’t get out of the car or let anyone see you?” His voice started to rise, but he realized soon afterward and huffed. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry, it’s just… I don’t understand what you misread this for.”

“… You sounded ironic speaking of the stakeout, you see…”

“Ironic?”

“You put a face with a semi-column.”

“It was a smile?!”

“No, it’s a wink, Cullen. You sounded joking and I… Can we change the topic, please?”

She seriously considered getting out of the car and just… Run for it. Leave the shoes, leave everything, that side of the road opened to a park, she could jump over the fence and ran away without any inhabitant noticing much, hopefully. Or at least, not noticing exactly the revealing details of the tattoo on her left thigh, which could have given her away as her, not as a random blonde elf running away and being weird. She realized it was stupid: as much as she really wanted to dig a hole and bury herself in it, she knew she was stuck inside. And as many experiences they had together, she and Cullen, this was, peculiarly, a first.

A first she really didn’t want to experience, and yet, he didn’t let it go.

 “I- Just- Just tell me what you thought this would have been.” She heard him swallow. “I… I promise I won’t judge you or blame you or whatever. I was awful to you in Kirkwall, I owe you some free embarrassment time.”

The fact that his voice was equally embarrassed as she felt helped. The admission that they actually met in Kirkwall helped. When they met again, both back in Redcliffe, he was particularly stubborn in pretending that Kirkwall never happened. She took her time to find words, heart thrumming loudly in her ears, fingers playing nervously with the hem of the coat, nails scratching the stitches absent-mindedly, just to have something to do.

“Cullen, is this a date?”

She took a deep breath and asked, quickly and all in one breath. The air froze in the cabin, both catching their breath as the word was out, and the situation, finally, clear. Aisling groaned loudly, after a minute, covering her face with both hands.

“I’m sorry.” She groaned, behind her hands. “It was stupid and I… I didn’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry, please, forget everything.”

“You’re…” Clear of throat. “Why didn’t you ask?”

“I was embarrassed.” She clarified, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “I… I didn’t want you to think that… I don’t even know. But then Sera and Dorian convinced me that it was and… And I shouldn’t have listened to them.”

“Sera and- Sweet and loving Andraste.”

More silence, heavy and tense as it has never been between them. Or well, as it has been. In Kirkwall. Him overly stressed and under lyrium. She hostile and not willing to listen or look better and just treating him as the Knight Captain.

“We can pretend nothing happened. Again, it was all on me and… I’m not- I mean. I don’t-”

“No, that’s… Leave me a little to sort thoughts out, please.”

And so they did. Suddenly focusing more on work. Something that Aisling had no part in, but could help him with: it wasn’t difficult, after all, to check for movement beside the windows. A distraction as any other, even if the atmosphere remained awkward and tense. They almost managed to get back to an easy line of discourse, when Aisling slipped her hand in the crisps bag, stuck between the handbrake and the gear shift, a second before Cullen did the very same, while looking out of the window. Their hands met, knuckles brushing against each other, and even if it wasn’t remotely the first time they held hands platonically, it felt charged and awkward, in that particular moment, the word “Date” hanging heavily over both their heads.

They exchanged one look, and were quick to slip their hands out of the bag and look away, in various stages of embarrassment and with various apologies one to the other. More awkward silence followed.

“It’s just like being back at 16, right?” Aisling laughed, nervously.

“No. It’s just like I’m back at 16, you are still 30.” Cullen rebuked, grumpily.

“What? Why-” Aisling started, looking at him and noticing that his very ears were pink, by now, as he purposefully looked outside the window and not at her. “… Were you…?” She asked, surprised.

“You really never noticed?”

“… I didn’t. How could I?”

“Everyone noticed I had a crush on you, Ash. Dorian, Hawke… All of the Hawkes, our classmates, my siblings, my parents… Your parents. I thought… You were just pretending because you never had any interest.”

“… I never noticed.” She told him, and she was sincere. She had noticed that he had started to spend more time with her than with Dorian, or even all three together, but... “…Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why did you tell me you forgot tissues and not that you needed a change of clothes because you thought this was a date and I clearly didn’t?”

“Point taken.”

 A pause. A pause that was so awkward that Aisling started to laugh, hysterically, folding forward with her face buried between her hands as Cullen tried to stop her, telling her there was nothing to laugh about. He poked her in the ribs, she batted his hands away and tried to do the same, and in no time, they were battling each other’s hands, both laughing.

“Ok. Ok, listen. It doesn’t have to be awkward.” Aisling resumed, tersing some tears away from her eyes – and staining her fingers black with the kohl she had applied before leaving. “Let’s finish this job, bring me home, ignore my stupid heels when I walk out, and we’ll start back tomorrow as if nothing happened, ok?”

“I knew you looked tall…”

He got a playful swat on his arm for that, that made him laugh a little more.

“Is that what you want? Acting like nothing happened?” He asked, delicately.

“Actually, in this moment I’d like to dig a hole in the ground and bury myself inside it. But the shop had no spades, I asked.”

“You’re so dramatic some times.”

“You know whom I grew up with, what did you expect.”

Cullen wasn’t sure. But every word died in his throat. He wanted to tell her that he had, in fact, thought about asking her out properly in the last weeks too, but never did because whatever friendship they recovered felt fragile and precious, and he didn’t want to ruin it a second time. He wanted to tell her that he wanted to go on a date with both of them aware that is was one. And that he did want to see what was under that coat. But again, it felt too soon, Aisling wasn’t in the mood, and he didn’t know what to say that wasn’t an apology and an admission of fault his therapist would have just talked him so he could see it wasn’t the best course of action.

So, instead, he let the topic die and, when it was clear nobody was coming in or out of the house, all lights switched off, he turned the car on again and they drove back to her building, the town even more desert than when they left. Not surprising, seen how late the hour was. None of them really talked about much of anything, recharging batteries after a rocky conversation too close to home for both of them. He stopped under her door and slipped out of the car as she did -retrieving a pair of high heels from under the seat and stubbornly refusing to put them on again to walk back in.

Bidding each other goodbye was a new peak of awkwardness. A hug felt too intimate and close, kisses on the cheeks were even worse… In the end, Aisling put out her hand, clearing her throat. They did shake hands, as a proper salute that didn’t add to the current embarrassed situation, smiling at each other.

“Ash.” He called, when she was mid-way to the door. He had to ask, at this point.

“Yes?” She turned, keeping walking backward, head tilted sideway.

“Can I see the dress?”

“… You really want to?” She groaned, grimacing.

“At this point…” He laughed, shrugging and leaning over the side of the car.

“Well… Ok. But you’re not allowed to laugh at it, ok?”

“On my honour.” He signed a cross over his heart, as a reply.

She nodded and took a deep breath, unbuttoning her trench and revealing what was underneath. A single chiffon dress, crossed on the bust while leaving a good portion of skin out, loose skirt swinging softly as she walked back, reaching the mid of her thighs, the bare hint of a tattoo peeking down on the left.

“Whoop!” She let out, almost tripping on the stairs to the entrance and cursing under her breath as she did.

He had to bite his lower lip to stop from laughing, still blushing fiercely and covering his mouth with a hand, shaking his head vigorously as she made sure he wasn’t, in fact, laughing at her. A last good night, and she was inside, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He honestly didn’t know dating was on the plate for her, and felt extremely stupid for not realizing the signals. But one thing he was sure of: He wasn’t ok in doing as if nothing happened. Oh no.

He jumped back in the car, feeling for once like maybe leaving a stable position in Kirkwall, his title and job to become a security guard for a college, back living with his family and part time collaborating with Seeker Pentaghast on her secret plans, wasn’t that much of a setback as he thought it was.

Surely, there had been good things. And another one that just happened that evening. And he wasn’t going to let that go and pretend it never happened.

---

Two weeks later, Aisling stepped down the stairs of her building, dressed comfortably in leggings, an oversized shirt that she stole from Dorian, and a hoodie. Cellphone, wallet and house keys in a tote bag with an assortment of activities to fill the evening with. Because pretending she never totally embarrassed herself worked so well that Cullen invited her again for another stakeout, semi-column and parenthesis in a smiley face that by now she could read as just an innocent smile.

She hadn’t bothered to put up much of anything, and she even kept her glasses on, this time, dress to sit comfortably in his old car.

And yet, when she stepped out of the door, she froze on the spot, looking up.

“… Are you fucking kidding me?”

Because there he was, Cullen, leaning over the side of his car, in a jacket, shirt and even a tie, hair well combed behind his head, well-shaved, and with flowers. Tiger lilies, forget-me-nots and elfroot, her favourites.

They exchanged a look, assessed the situation, assessed that the tables had definitely switched.

“Is this a date…?” She asked.

“… I got you flowers, so…?”

“… and I got more crosswords.”

She started to laugh, uncontrollably, from the pure absurdity of the situation. He joined her right away, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Can I go up and get changed?” She asked, in the end.

“I… Booked a restaurant. We don’t have much time, actually. I can unbook it and… I don’t know, we’ll figure something out?”

She shook her head, stepping down the entrance stairs.

“No. No that’s fine it’s just… It’s only fair. I’m sorry if… Well.”

“I should have made it clearer.”

“No it’s ok… We’re awful at this.” She laughed again, accepting the flowers he offered her and smelling them.

“We are.”

“Well then… Let’s go embarrass myself in a restaurant, shall we?” She proposed, awkwardly, peeking up from the flowers with a smile.

“Are you sure about that?” If you want to get changed.

“No. No I’m sure. Let’s go.”

“Let’s go.”